One-Star Review: Haunted Hotel Stay

“This place is a joke. The lights flickered all night, there was a weird smell in the bathroom, and I’m pretty sure I heard whispering in the hallway at 3am. Worst sleep of my life.”

Dear Sir or Madame,

You know you booked a night at a haunted hotel, right? Did the 18th century mansion covered in creeping vines and our graveyard walk-up not give us away? How about the wrought iron gate with winged demon gargoyles? We may just need to work harder on our aesthetics. Note taken.

If memory serves, and our ghosts remind me if it doesn’t, your party specifically requested room 306,themost haunted room inthemost haunted mansion in the country. It is the room that saw the demise of Alexander Greet and his entire family in the 1802 fire, and the very same room where not one, but 3 public figures in this city over the last 100 years have died under mysterious circumstances. Two of those figures are buried on these very grounds. Room 306 has been featured on no less than three different Travel Channel shows about hauntings, and The Long Island Medium paid a visit to that room. On her own dime! Room 306 is the most fascinating part of our history here and it is a true shame when it is underappreciated.

The Greet family, my personal favorites, are a high energy bunch. Power surges are the least invasive things we have dealt with over the years, and that family is a delight to have around. Mrs. Greet still helps with breakfast, reminding us about guest allergies if we happen to miss it. She even prevented poisoning once when a confused new husband misunderstood plans for his wife’s inheritance. Mr. Greet keeps busy minding the graveyard. He is particular about the topiary, and the gardeners appreciate it when he can clear out neighboring teenagers looking for trouble after hours.

Junior is another of our honored residents. Not my personal favorite simply for the fact that he is the source of the most complaints, but his time here predates mine and I respect the seniority. Junior died in that bathroom and was not discovered for over a week. The house was closed at the time, and that week was one of the hottest summers on record for our area. You try getting the smell of putrid, decaying flesh and bodily fluids out of any room after that. Despite the five and a half renovations over the years, any time Junior is near, the smell rematerializes in that bathroom, and we must begin anew with the cleaning efforts. At least there is never any visual evidence of his visits.

All our ethereal beings try to communicate with our guests from time to time. This is often heard as whispers. Our residents can get frustrated at not being understood. I get complaints from them when that happens. Some of them can be quite persistent in getting my attention, even when I am away from the estate. I understand that for some the whispers can be unsettling, especially when they seem to come from under the bed. Ultimately, they are no real threat to our guests’ comfort.

Though I am paid, if not thrilled, to talk to our human guests about what to expect from a visit, the alternative could be Junior or one of the headless chickens who roam the gardens. You don’t want that.

Bless your hearts.

Bethesda Mink, Caretaker

Originally published in Little Old Lady Comedyhttps/www.littleoldladycomedy.com/

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