I’m the Sister who really isn’t “open” to the paranormal, but what we experienced this weekend could start making me think otherwise. Our friendly ghost/ghosts might not have bothered Kathy..as she’ll describe below, but they/it certainly played strange mind games with me.
As soon as the hotel doors opened for us, Laurie immediately felt the crackling energy (we call it “the grace”) and we knew we’d be entertained during our overnight stay. As you’ll soon learn, it didn’t take long. for the weirdness to begin.
Kathy, this is your cue.
KATHY’S WEEKEND SUMMATION:
I’m on it, Karol.
For starters, everyone needs to understand from the beginning that the Sisters have many things in common besides being related, although there are some questions about that. One major similarity is the fact that we attract, and on many occasions, have conjured up spirits and/or ghosts. Most of these have been the harmless kind—you know, prankster playing poltergiests and then we’ve also encountered benevolent spirits. We knew going into this Sisters weekend that we wanted to experience something out of the ordinary. We do create a lot of energy when the three of us are together. Maybe that could be the reason for the many ghostly experiences we’ve encountered. Our stories are many, but we will tell you all about staying at the Menger Hotel in San Antonio this past weekend. We’ll tell you what we witnessed and it’s all true.
I had a blast and as Karol intimated, for some odd reason, our friendly ghosts didn’t bother me and dammit, I was the major factor in staying at that particular hotel so I guess he/she/they appreciated my persistence in choosing it instead of any others. But appreciation manifested itself by leaving me alone. I felt “the grace”, but had not one personal experience. Even so, being at the Menger this past weekend felt right.. we were destined to stay there.
Laurie will lead you on our journey, so I might jump in later to provide more color commentary.
Laurie, hit it!!!
AND LASTLY, LK’S TAKE ON THINGS
Well, I suppose the deal is this: as a creative writer, I’m more observant of what’s happening in my environment than those who aren’t creative writers or psychiatrists, detectives, college and pro football referees, spies or TV’s Gladys Kravitz from “Bewitched”. We share a common bond–we notice things. And I do believe that this also enables me to experience odd things. At the very least, I see “weirdness” first.
When ever I walk with a group of women, I’m always the one who first notices the man in the park who’s exposing himself. As I gather the words to try to explain why “Tiny” feels compelled to do this, he coughs t0 get their attention…and he does, alright.
Oh yes, indeed he does.
My female walking partners look in the direction of the cough, see the offensive member airing out, I suppose, then they shriek with disgust and horror, while “Tiny” continues to get some perverted thrill from having shocked a mass of ambulatory Ovarians.
I would also be the first woman in my college dormitory to be kidnapped in REM sleep by tiny green Cyclopted space aliens and beamed aboard their ship to be examined, probed and ultimately, impregnated. Ten months later, I’d be taking Jr. for a walk in the park and some 78-year-old Nosy Parker with a penchant for babies–because her grandchildren live a thousand miles away in Scranton, would insist on getting a peak of my new baby. She’d lower the blanket enough to see it’s face, then take a moment to compose herself after seeing my part human/part alien progeny and then she’d struggle to say the words, with a gulp, “Oh my! He must have his father’s …..eye!!”
That said, I don’t give much credence to UFO and their odd looking pilots. That’s never done a thing for me, nor have those crazy ass bipeds such as the Boggy Creek Monster or Sasquatch/Big Foot. I get no thrill from vampires or anything so lupine as Werewolves.
But ghosts? That’s a different story.
I’ve had a number of strange experiences most of my life. The home in which I spent the second half of my childhood was haunted. It was home to benevolent ghosts and a few who had other intentions. I think because of this exposure, Ive become a wee bit sensitive to their presence. I’m not psychic, but I can feel (to a certain degree) whenever supernatural forces are at hand.
Have I loss all of your respect at this point? Well, someday I’ll write a post about my life’s ghostly goings on sometime in the near future.
But for now, I’ll write about this past weekend’s project in San Antonio, where the scientific and terrifying merge….
The Sisters Kendrick needed a sisters weekend, free from whiny husbands and erstwhile whiny man friends. It turned out to be a surprise birthday celebration from me. I turn 50 in a few months but mu sisters, Kathy and Karol didn’t know if they could actually spend this milestone with me. Hence the reason for the early soiree. And it was beyond lovely. My sisters are my best friends.
Anyway, Kathy also loves ghosts and she wanted to stay at the famed Menger .Hotel. It was .built in 1859, .directly across .from the .Alamo, the sight .where Texicans battled the .Mexicans for Texas .independence in 1936. The .Mexican army was vast and .while the Texicans were .defeated soundly, these .scrappy sod busters got a few .decent licks in. Many Mexican .soldiers died as well.
So essentially, every where you walk in and around the Alamo, you’re stepping on hallowed ground where hundreds…maybe even a thousand men were killed. And for well over .a.century, guests and.staff insist that the Menger is haunted.
Well, I’m here to tell you that .it is. My sisters will back me up on this.
SATURDAY FEBRUARY 14th.
Once the valet parked our .car, we walked into the hotel through the.doors and into he lobby, I knew.immediately that we were in .for a “lively” weekend.
The ghostly hi jinx began within the first ten minutes of our arriving at the Menger.
Kathy checked in while Karol and I waited by our luggage, situated to the left of the front desk. We were there, talking when Kathy said that she needed our IDs….ah life in a post 9/11 world.
Karol gave me her license, retrieved from her wallet. Keep in mind, she keeps her money, ID and credit cards separate. Her money is kept in a zippered compartment on the opposite side of her pocketbook. That’s also my wallet’s M.O. I brought the IDs to the Desk Clerk, waited until they were processed and I took ours back to wait with Karol by the luggage.
I put my ID back in my wallet and watched Karol as she put her’s in her wallet, which then went back in her purse. We continued to talk, as Kathy finished up and then it all began—Karol looked down and saw a crisp five dollar bill by her foot. It wasn’t there before and certainly wasn’t one of mine or my sisters’. You see, we have a way of placing wrinkled and folded (OK, shoved and stuffed) money in our wallets.
We ooh’d and ah’d over the phenomenal bounty as we went up to our rooms. Time for lunch. We freshened our faces and our over processed hair, grabbed purses then headed toward the Riverwalk.
We grabbed some lunch—nachos and beer, just as I said we would in our itinerary and when the final bill came, Karol looked for her wallet.
IT WASN’T THERE!!!!!
Karol panicked and we hobbled back to our room with the hopes that it would be there. Long story short, it was. her wallet was on a chair. Karol hadn’t opened her purse since handing me her ID two hours earlier, yet somehow the pocketbook was back in the room. We found it on a chair, as if it had been tossed there.
We made dinner reservations for 8:00 that evening, then left again in order to do a little sightseeing. We turned on the lights overlooking the vanity and they were pink. Odd….we looked better in the softer light, but it sure wasn’t enough for decent hair fiddlin’ or make-up applyin’. We walked around a little, visited an old friend who now owns an antique shop in the Menger, then happened upon Olga, a housekeeper with 15 years of domestic servitude under her belt. We talked to her about the Menger’s haunted history, then told her that we’ve already had some strange experiences. That’s when she asked us if the lights in the room had come on pink. We told her that that happened to us the second time we left the room. According to Olga, that’s a rather common trick the ghosts play on guests. Then we decided to walk around in the orginal part of the hotel…the really old part, where Olga says the ghosts are most active. It was indeed, the old part. Elegant but still had exposed water pipes. You could feel it was old. You could feel that it’s seen it’s share of history, people and strange things.
We passed by a short hallway that lead to a floor length window at the end. It was cloudy Saturday afternoon, so the light allowed in was minimal. We only saw his silhouette, but the three of us saw a waiter dressed in a tuxedo circa the 1920’s, carrying a bouquet of flowers. It was an odd sight indeed and Kathy and I gave it any mind, but Karol did and urged us to stop and remain quite as we waited around the corner to get a look at him as he exited the hallway.
Nothing happened. We waited for a second, we heard no footsteps, nor did we hear him enter another room. We heard no room card being inserted nor did we hear the opening or closing of a door.
He just vanished.
We decided to go back to our room for a little nap and as we entered the elevator closest to our suite, Kathy, perhaps still a little tipsy from all that was consumed at lunch, placed her gum near the button panel of the elevator. We laughed because well, it was funny and then entered our room.
We took a brief nap with the intention that we would wake up refreshed and ready for a nocturnal round of drinking. We left the room after primping and as we headed to the same elevator, I felt something odd feeling in the folds of my wrap. Lo and behold it was a wad of gum in my Pashmina!!!!! My first thought was “Could this be Kathy’s gum?” It smelled of spearmint–Kathy’s favorite gum and could this be a punishment of sorts because she defaced a Menger elevator? Well, we had our answer when we entered the same elevator and noticed the gum wasn’t there!!!
Then I thought, why was I being punished for Kathy’s defacing of Menger property? I didn’t do it. I’m civilized. I remove my gum like a lady—I spit it out really hard. This was a shame inducing spirit. For a split second, I thought it was my mother. But that can’t be—she was alive and well and disapproving of everything I do from afar, some 32 miles to the north!!
We had dinner and met an old and rather eccentric looking man who was apparently something of a fixture at the Menger. This is a rather elegant hotel and wouldn’t allow what my mother would call “riff raff”. His name is Mr. Vega and he’s got long white curly hair, walks with a cane and a laptop carrying case that I think is empty. At dinner, he visits patrons of the restaurant, wows them with jokes and tales of the Menger and San Antonio back in the day. Mr. Vega looks to be around 80 or so–he’s had plenty “back in the days”. He walked by our table and I invited him to join us.
I had to shout a couple of times….this indicated he was deaf. He finally sat down and then said that three of us were way too hot for him. That indicated he was also blind.
He then looked at me and said while staring right into my yes, “You’re a very good writer!”. Wow and yes, how strange that he would say this to me. How could he know? I decided against bringing my lanyard bearing my credentials on this trip–or my fedora with the press card tucked inside the hatband.
He seemed to be a bit crazy or drunk; maybe both. He’d speak with wizened, sane lucidity one minute, then in the same breath make crazy comments about Kathy’s sexy boobage and then he’d question the bodily foliage that might be present on her “pasture of love” located down below. We weren’t offended by this for some odd reason and instead, just laughed. Karol didn’t like Mr. Vega.
- Maybe it was because he had only three pinto been looking teeth located sporadically in his mouth
- Maybe it was because a mole presentation under his left eye resembled the Northern and Southern Hemisphere. Peru was clearly visible
- Maybe it was because his fly was open
- And maybe it was also because he smelled like an acrid combination of dirty, sweaty feet, rancid navel diddlings, tainted ass crack and stale Limburger cheese and inclean German laborers
I couldn’t smell the man, but Karol said he wreaked of a pungency that threatened her gag reflex at every inhalation. To make matters worse, he liked Karol….thought she was pretty and every time he made a salient point that HE thought made sense, he’d laugh and reach over and touch her. With every touch, she’d move closer and closer to her right….toward Kathy. Karol was repulsed. A few minutes later, she announced she had to go back up to the suite.
So, she jumped out of Kathy’s lap and went upstairs. Kathy and I kept drinking wine and conversing with crazy Mr. Vega. Karol came back down to the restaurant and announced her room card wasn’t working….this, just as Mr. Vega offered to let us sample his ancient sexual wares. I’d had enough by that time; stood up and said, “Goodnight Crazy! It’s been a slice!”
We got to our suite, Kathy tried Karol’s key and it opened the door without a hitch.
We got ready for bed….watched a few minutes of Saturday Night Live until we were bored to sleep.
I woke up early the next morning and had the need to void me bladder and as I made the corner to the bathroom, I stepped on something gunky and ice cold. I turned on a light and looked at the stuff. It was a silver dollar-sized clump of ugly! It looked like whitish snot or phlegm or maybe errant ectoplasm that had been left behind by an earlier ghostly visitation.
It was gross.
Kathy and Karol got out of bed and looked at it. Kathy was repulsed and didn’t want to look at it, much less clean it up, so she covered it with a waste paper basket. We then talked a little, got dressed, used enough cover up and Spackle to look somewhat presentable, then called for our car and a bellhop. Just before he arrived Kathy moved the trash can and the SNOT-O’ PLASM WAS GONE!!!!!!
The Bellman came, took our stuff and we checked out. We were hungry and thirsty and decided to have breakfast back in Boerne, where Karol lives. We wanted to make sure we had the cash to cover it, so Karol looked first–in her separate zippered money compartment and was startled by the fact that her five dollar bill, the neat and crisp one found by her foot just 24-hours earlier wasn’t there.
I then looked in my wallet and…and…. pulled out a fresh, crisp and neat looking five dollar bill….the very one that was supposed to have been in Karol’s purse!!!!
I drove home early Tuesday morning in the throws of Cedar Fever. In the Texas Hill Country, these arboreal bastards have the unmitigated gall to pollinate. I’m allergic as hell to cedar. I get congested all too hell and I generally feel the way Amy Winehouse looks. As I hit the halfway point between Houston and San Antopnio, I had to sneeze very, very hard. Damned if some of that same nastly ectoplasm stuff landed on my left one.
I was disgusted and grabbed an old Big Gulp cup to cover it. I was then, as I was in the hotel room, not willing to look at it, much less remove it. By the time I got home?????
It was still there.