Saturday, August 03, 2013

My Real Life Ghost Hunt


my photo from the Charleston Dungeon tour
This week I was fortunate enough to be on vacation with my dear friends Dawn and her husband Bill (I changed their names to keep their privacy).

 Dawn is a psychic and has been on about every ghost tour around. She and Bill invited us to go on vacation with them this year and we chose Charleston, SC. Besides the normal shopping and dining out we took a few ghost tours and paid to be part of a ghost hunt.

Before the ghost hunt (which was from midnight to 2AM) we took the regular tour to get an idea of the history of the place. Google Old Charleston Jail for more information, but suffice to say this is a very bad place, whether you believe in ghosts or not. To begin with, the entire city of Charleston is built over dead people. They just dumped bodies for hundreds of years into the water and then eventually dredged up the dirt from the river and built on it. Occasionally they even find bones during construction. But as far as the jail goes, in a nut shell, it was used to house local criminals, civil war prisoners and runaway slaves (to be punished severely for their "crime"). This was not a place of rehabilitation, this was a place of torture and death. If you went to this jail you went there to die.

If you are ever in Charleston I highly recommend you go to Bulldog Tours and ask for Braxton to be your guild. He is a writer and actor so he tells a fabulous story and is very knowledgeable about the area. Smart and nerdy, I of course panted at his heels the whole time.

The tour was interesting. It was dark and flashlights were needed as the steps were not even and the place is metal on the inside with many odd corners and ironwork. Not your typical jail, most of it is made up of rooms instead of small cells. You may have seen it since every ghost show on TV has investigated it and deemed it haunted. Use of ghost hunting equipment and cameras were encouraged and Braxton brought and EMF detector.

After the tour, the 11 of us who had paid extra for the hunt stayed behind. Braxton took us to one room and pulled out his EMF detector. For those that do not know, this stands for Electromagnetic Field. All electric wires give off this field, at least the older ones, and the device is used to find major leaks in homes which can have physical effects on people. For ghost hunting purposes, after determining there are no EMF sources in the vicinity, they are used to communicate with spirits. No one knows exactly how, but the spirits can make the lights blink on these detectors, so you can have a real time yes and no question and answer session with them. If you have ever watched a ghost hunting show you know what they are but to see one in real life and watch it answer your questions, well that is a completely different thing. The only other equipment there was a tape recorder our friends had brought. I await their full results, though I did hear a response on playback right there on the spot (it was very short but clear and I cannot recall what it said but nothing nefarious). I had a camera and got a lot of "orbs" but since I do not believe orbs are anything but dust or bugs then I have to report I got nothing on film.
Back to real-time hunting. After the initial talk, Braxton told us we could split up into groups. Anyone who knows me knows this was my queue to boogie out and away from everyone else as fast as I could. I went up and down halls and through doors, around corners and into dead ends. Mark was with me most of the time and though I "felt" nothing, he felt quite uneasy and queasy, something we would find out later 3 others felt as well.

At one point another "hunter' popped out of nowhere (and scared the bejeebers out of me). He was lost and looked scared so I invited him to join me and Mark, where shortly after we found the best room in the place...the one with the air conditioning! I live in Florida and I will tell you my time in Charleston was miserable as far as the weather goes, even for a Floridian. Hot, sticky, not a breeze to be found, how anyone in colonial times wore layers and layers of clothing is beyond me. No wonder they all fainted!

As we sat there cooling off the door creaked open and it was Braxton, requesting we rejoin the group. I recall him taking us to a room where people were severely tortured. Ropes hung from the ceiling and you were tied to them and whipped mercilessly, each slap of the whip slicing through your skin to the flesh. Whipping is not like you see on TV, where a bit of blood oozes out, it is a brutal practice and most who are doomed to "40 lashes" do not survive it. While in this room I felt a profound sadness so I left the room but that did not help, it got worse and I felt the entire weight of the place emotionally on me, like I was drowning in the sorrow. I did not get a sense of hate or evil or anger there (though there are known psychopaths who died there) I only felt the sadness and desperation of the people who were once there. I actually began to cry a bit. Being alone was not helping so I made my way back to the group who were still in this room. They were doing an EVP "session" and each time the lights on the device went on I felt a mild breeze pass by me where I had found a comfy spot in the doorway. Not your typical cold spot, but like someone passing by me very closely, yet no one was there. It was then that I noticed an open window so I had to dismiss the breeze. My personal rule for ghost hunting states that if there is any possible natural explanation, no matter how remote, that is the one you must go with. Yet it till kept happening...the lights went on on the EMF and I felt this breeze at the same time. I followed it out the door. I followed it a few feet down the hall. It was very dark but I did not want to scare it away with my flashlight. Farther and farther down the empty dark hall I meandered, following this fleeting breeze and hearing the voices of the group grow fainter as I made my way to the belly of the building. I have never been afraid of ghosts (I have encountered spirits before) but I have never felt compelled like I did here. The next thing I know Braxton is hollering down the hall at me, "Where are you going?" Guiltily, I told him I was following this breeze and he replied," Please come back. It has been known to do this. It is luring you away from the group. It is trying to isolate you. Come back in here with us". This started me out of a mild trance I did not realize I was in and I scooted back to the group, cursing the crafty spirit, and myself, under my breath. I know better than this! When I got back to the room Mark was leaning over, ashen, and said he felt the nausea again.

Later in  the tour, Dawn was sitting on the steps (she was having back pains the whole week so she had to sit once in a while) and as we were doing more EVPs she cried out "stop touching me!" and told our shocked faces that something was tugging on her shirt.

After some very interesting (but horrifying and sad) history,  many cool spots (we would enter a room and there would be a cold spot that immediately left as soon as we got there) the tour was over. I asked Bill if he felt anything but he refused to talk about it. I did not push him but the next day he offered his experience...at one point he felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, enough to double him over. Bill is a brave man in my book. If that would have happened to me I would have been out of there! After the tour, while comparing notes, there were several people who, during the hunt, were fine but then would suddenly get a chill accompanied by a creepy feeling, like they were being watched or followed, and at least 3 others besides Mark were ill, a common occurrence when there is a nasty spirit present.

A real ghost hunt is a bit different than I had expected. For one, I thought we would have frightened people, or even hyper vigilant ones, but everyone was calm and tried to be as cooperative as they could. At the end while in the courtyard a cute couple came up, the girl had to be under 20, and she got all wide eyed and amazed when she realized we had done the ghost hunt, saying she would never be able to do that. I think she could. When you are with a group and you have a guide you can have faith in, even the biggest chicken would feel safe I believe. It is also different from the "professionals" in other ways. Professionals are part of a team, a group who is used to working together, whereas we were just a rag tag group who all happened to pay for the same hunt. Therefore, people whispered during the EVP sessions (Electronic Voice Phenomena) so the recordings are practically useless, and everyone who took a photo of an "orb" did not realize it was dust (orbs are actually very rare and look nothing like what most of us know as orbs, which are really just close ups of dust particles lit up by the flash). In a real hunt you also cannot have others just meandering around the place because they will contaminate your evidence. At the least, if you do have wanderers you should have some means of communication with each other.

This ghost hunt was five days ago and I spoke to Dawn yesterday. She asked me why I left my body wash in the bathroom...which I did NOT do. I specifically recall emptying out that entire closet and this was a big bottle, I could not have over looked it. Yet there it was, in her cabinet, in a position I never would have left it in, and anyway I am sure I packed it . She said that things have been disappearing and reappearing in odd places since all these tours we took. Usually that can be chalked up to forgetfulness but when you find your keys in the oven and you don't have Alzheimer's it does make one wonder....

If you find yourself in the Charleston area do yourself a favor and book a Bulldog tour and ask that Braxton Williams be your guide. You will have a wonderful time and see Old Charleston in a new light. I went on The Haunted Jail Tour and the Jail Ghost Hunt and the Ghost and Dungeon Walking Tour but I have heard all but the Dark Side of Charleston are good (and the Cemetery tour only shows one cemetery). Please check out their website, if nothing else the writing is a hoot. http://bulldogtours.com/. Oh and please tip your guide.


Sunday, May 26, 2013

The Beauty of Simplicity and The Car You Are Sick Of Hearing About

First I have to introduce you to Ginger. She is my new 2009 Mazda Miata. Ginger says Zoom Zoom.


Anyone who has known me for a while knows I fell in love with the Miata at first sight in 1991. I finally was able to buy one in about 2000 but had to sell it shortly after that. My wonderful husband has helped me to buy this one, fully loaded with a Bose stereo system, heated leather seats, canvas top, and the upgraded suspension package. Basically if it is available for this car it  has it. She  does not feel like the rickety damp hummingbird my old was. This is a comfortable, sleek racing machine and since I have never had so much as a parking ticket in my life I think its about time I took my chances.

Mark is building a small house in the back that he is calling a shed. This will hold all the junk in the "basement"so that Ryan (his son who is 21) can have a place to sleep, Mark can have his pool/ping pong table, Miranda can have her friends sleep over on the huge couches and I can have my laundry area and some decent storage. This will basically double the size of our house.

We borrowed Ryan's pick-up truck to haul lumber from Home Depot (though I prefer Lowes, I hate the color orange) and once I mounted the thing like a mighty steed, I found some tell tale signs of what Life As Ryan is like. I call it:

YOU MIGHT BE A REDNECK IF...

You own a pick-up. Period.

This pick up requires a ladder, a stepping stool or you to be under 40 to be able to gracefully board it.



...your dash is decorated with your baseball cap collection.


...Your console looks like this:


...and Carrie Underwood's song applies to it.


At first this was all quite funny to me. Ryan certainly fits your stereotypical redneck from Florida. But the more I was in the truck the more I thought about Ryan and the more I started to envy him.

Ryan is at an age now where he is truly on the cusp of manhood and teenagerville, a place most of us navigate poorly or never really do at all. But Ryan is different. Ryan knows who he is. He knows what he likes. He knows what he believes in and has the courage  to stand up for those beliefs. He and I do not see eye to eye on many issues, but his beliefs are so pure they command respect. He is who he is and if you don't like it then you don't have to be part of his life. This all coming from a person who is 21 years old. I know many 50 year olds who have not reached this level of self acceptance. He has his friends and his interests. He has his hobbies and he enjoys his work, which he labors at at a pace I could not have managed even at his age. He pays his bills and he is honest...when it counts (come on he IS 21 still). He respects his parents, the country, and the women, family or friend, he loves. Riding in that truck I realized that Ryan is a simple man. Not dumb, oh no, not by a long shot, but he has a simple life and it suits him.

After a while some questions came to mind. Think about your life. Do you know who you are? Can you list your true friends? Do you know your passions and do you go after them? Do you live your life for yourself and everyone else be damned? Do you have a code of ethics you are proud of and that you uphold? These are not easy things to accomplish, yet Ryan had managed to do it before he was legally an adult. Have you? Maybe its not the antidepressants, alcohol or tranquilizers we need, its simply to live more genuinely.

So yes, he is redneck and I will always have a blast poking fun at him about it, but my sense of self is not as developed as his, I cannot count true friends on more than one hand, and at times I care too damn much what others think of me, and I am almost as old as his mother!

The next time you run across a person who fits a stereotype to a tee just remember that the cliches they represent come from being who they want to be, and if that means country music, chewing tobacco, cowboy boots and a HUGE truck, so be it. 

Tonight he is having a bar-b-que with some close friends, probably around the bonfire in the back yard. They will drink beer from a bottle and probably get around to talking about last year's deer season and listening to some country classics...and all of them will be nourishing their souls on a level I am not true enough to myself to come close to.

You are a good person Ryan. Your father is proud of you, I love you like my own son and you are turning into a fine man (though you should be nicer to your sister, she worships the ground you walk on you know. And running water  over your dirty dishes wouldn't be too bad an idea either, oh and those greasy uniforms......)