Friday, June 21, 2013

Welcome to the Jungle

Bed Where It Happened. Notice the K2 meter on the bed and the DVR on the nightstand.
Copyright 2013 S. Giron

It was Saturday night and I had just come out of the shower. My roommates had left for the Bram Stoker Awards presented by the Horror Writers Association. We were having the convention at the Hotel Monteleone along with the World Horror Convention. I didn't want to attend the banquet not because I don't like banquets. Not at all. In fact, I've been to many of the Stokers and always have a great time.

No, it was because I was born in New Orleans and Bourbon Street is in my blood. My body was tingling with the urge to dance, to wander through the raucous streets, tossing beads from balconies, drinking bourbon from plastic cups bigger than my head and watch the people embracing their hedonistic urges. The siren song of the revellers was luring me out into the throngs.

Before I had stepped into the shower, I had put my K2 meter on the bed and my DVR on the nightstand. I had said nothing to the ghosts in my room at all yet on the trip and I'd been there since Wednesday. Four days.

However, earlier that day was the first time I'd taken out my ghost gear since I'd arrived. I hadn't been able to focus long enough to work with it between my duties at the con and touristy stuff such as the graveyard tour. I had wandered the hotel, snapping pictures at empty hallways and doorways.

I was emerging from the shower, dried off and naked. My mind was already ringing with heavy metal tunes from the night before and I was deciding that my first drink of the day would be a bourbon sour on Bourbon Street. I walked over to my bed, the one in the picture. I was reaching for my briefcase when I felt a push on my upper left shoulder blade.

I turned around, thinking that Kim or William had returned because they had forgotten something.

But no.

No one was there.

I noticed the K2 meter spiking and a cold chill that wasn't the air-conditioning surged through me, giving me great goosebumps along my right arm. I started speaking to the recorder and noted the time.


This was room 7:37

I talked to the room a bit while I was still fiddling with stuff on the bed. Again the push. Again the spike. Again the cold chill.

I was really getting freaked out and wondered how long it would take to strap on my corset and get the heck out.

The push on my back happened one more time.

I spoke to the room but didn't ask the spirit what it wanted or to show itself or anything crazy like that.

Then I went into the bathroom and looked at my back in the multi mirrored walls. There was a big red mark where I had been pushed.

I wish I had taken a picture of that but it scared me so much that I just didn't do it. Yet I took other pictures of the room. We are irrational when we are frightened.

The room felt different, full, pregnant, waiting.

So, I introduced myself. I shared that I was born in New Orleans and  happy to be home. With much praise, I regaled them with a few stories of my fun adventures and once I finished all that, I dressed as quickly as one can in a corset and left.

The DVR ran the whole time I went down Bourbon Street, bought a giant cup of bourbon, threw some beads. Then I walked around until some young men called out, "Goth," "Hey, Goth Mom!" from a balcony and flung beads at me. I laughed as I walked around, staring at the giant crosses that religious groups put up. They had their megaphones out, preaching the good word while painted ladies, pirates, and leprechauns danced around them.

I found a bar called Krazy Korner with a rock and roll band that was playing  "Welcome to the Jungle." I went in and since they were so good, I ended up rocking out for about an hour and half to ACDC, Guns and Roses, Stones, Kiss, Journey, Blondie, and more. That band was amazing and the male singer looked like Axel Rose. I was in the jungle, yeah, baby. The lady singer had a fantastic rock voice. Usually I don't really like lady rock singers, but she was just killing it. I left after "Hotel California."

After I returned, I turned off the DVR. I've not had time yet to listen to it, if indeed I haven't erased it when it kept going off in my purse. I wonder what I will hear that happened in the absence of me, Kim, and William.

The room was still creepy and I prepared myself for the next part of my adventures in New Orleans. The air was thick and something was hovering by me, ready to push me again. I didn't have the push or nudge again. But there were other experiences.

Check out other paranormal activities from the Hotel Monteleone on this blog.

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