“Fake” ones rely on jump scares, which are too much like pranks for me.
However, when your children — whom you haven’t seen in almost two weeks — want you to go with them someplace, you say, “Yes.” Or at least I do.
Our group consisted of three moms and five teenage boys, ages 15-16.
Someone needs to shave.
Here are the things that I found scary upon arrival:
The ticket price. It was $30 each. Yikes!
The porta potties outside didn’t have lights inside them.
The lack of masks indoors. COVID isn’t gone, y’all!
Once inside, there were other things to scare me:
Just as I started to walk in, the dude pulling back the curtain stuck his hand in front of my face. I screamed from shock. Then giggled because HOW DUMB?!?
A huge animatronic demon face bum-rushed me and shoved me into a wall.
The floors were designed to match the “rooms.” Squishy flooring to represent grass in a cemetery, for example. What’s scary about that? The broken-ankle potential. I don’t need that again.
There was a corridor of clowns. HORRIFYING. I loathe clowns.
Each of the two haunted houses ends with a chainsaw-wielding madman. Or three. I loathe chainsaw-wielding madmen. (That comes from a certain movie seen at an impressionable age.)
One of the boys’ friends putting on a badass act. “What? I can’t help it if I’m not scared.” OK, then, Buzzkill.
I did have a good time, though. One of the best things was the boy banter.
Dominic: Gideon, be careful they don’t put you in one of the exhibits. Gideon: What? Dominic: “Oh, here’s another skeleton.” Dylan: More bones, all Fernbank style. Gideon (laughing): My superhero name can be Bones. Dominic: I feel like this right here is a villain origin story.
Missouri State Penitentiary: They’ll leave one light on for you.
Dear Jenny,*
Thanks for the tour of the Missouri State Penitentiary Saturday night. You took 28 people on a wild ride through the site’s terrible past. More than 168 years of torture at the hands of the government and factory owners. Delightful!
The tale of the young woman starved in the “blind cell” was more horrifying than the prospect of any phantoms, as was the experience of being in there — especially knowing that of the thousands of keys needed for the prison doors, there are only four left. Four!
What was as incredible as your stories was the fact that I was the only guest wearing a mask.
Not only is COVID not gone, but I’m not interested in breathing in 168 years of lead paint, asbestos and general prison dust.
Thanks, but no thanks.
And it’s not like anyone was social distancing either. Not even the ghosts.
While you were at one end of Death Row talking about shifting floor shadows, I was having my own spooky moment.
I moved to the back of the tour to get away from a lady who insisted on being right at my elbow. I wasn’t alone. There were about four or five people on my left, with everyone else on the right.
You made us all put away our phones, and you turned off your flashlight.
It was so dark.
But I felt fine. I was surrounded by people, after all. I FELT THEM near me.
But then my left side got really cold. Just my left. My right was warm.
The guy on my right took out his phone.
In the light from it, I realized there was NO ONE STANDING NEXT TO ME ON THE LEFT SIDE.
So that was fun. 😬
I’d like to say I captured the presence on my phone. But no. This is just me trying to put my phone away.
I was glad when the tour got going again.
The last stop was the gas chamber — same as it was for 40 inmates.
No ghosts here, which is surprising.
I was also surprised to learn that residents nearby were told to leave their houses for four hours when an execution was scheduled.
You said to me yesterday that I am “practically a foreign correspondent now.”
That resonated. I AM gathering information on a place that is new to me.
I’m trying to see and do as much as I can.
For example, I saw a billboard advertising tours of the Missouri State Penitentiary in Jefferson City.
Ghost tours.
Because of course they would offer ghost tours in October.
So I had to go.
Because of course I did.
I asked my mother if she wanted to go.
Me: I am booking a tour of the Missouri State Penitentiary Saturday night. Do you want to go? Her: (long pause) No.
I have no trouble going places alone, so I called to make the booking.
Me: The website says there’s no availability on any weekend tour. Lady on phone: We are sold out. When did you want to come? Me: Saturday. Her: How many? Me: Just me. Her: Just you? Me: Just me. Her: I can squeeze in one person. Me: Great! Her: 7, 8 or 9? Me: A.M.? Her (drily): P.M. It’s a ghost tour. Me: Right.
So I went. It’s an hour and some change north of Rolla. Rural Missouri looks like rural Georgia.
Fifty feet from this sign, there was a dead deer in a ditch. Must not have been good eatin’.What kind of fowl convention is this?
I got to Jefferson City early so I had time to look around.
Gov. Mike Parson’s place. He can walk to the Capitol building if he chooses. It’s a more modest place than Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp’s palace.Lewis, Clark and the gangBrisket, pulled pork, pit beans and jalapeño cheddar grits. Many animals were harmed in the making of this meal. I’m sorry.
At this point, you may be asking this:
But Beth, what about the ghost tour — the whole point of your trip?
I hate you like a high-school boyfriend hated shirts with sleeves (much to my father’s chagrin).
(I hate you so much, but I still don’t hate you as much as I hate Mitch McConnell.)
You installed “smart locks” a few months ago. Ours has never worked properly. Your maintenance folks have been out to fix it more than four times.
Last night, it wouldn’t open. Period.
I called the emergency line. Twice. Eddie called too.
Someone will be right over.
Someone did not come over.
Someone called.
The someone: We don’t do lockouts. We only do emergencies. Me: This is an emergency. Our lock isn’t working. We need to get into our place. Don’t you have the special key to get into the garage? Him: No. You’ll have to check with the leasing office. Me: They don’t open until Monday. Him: I guess you’ll have to wait until Monday. Me: How are we supposed to get into our apartment? Him: I don’t know. We only handle emergencies. Me: This is an emergency. Him: We don’t consider this an emergency. Don’t you have the garage door opener? Me: If we had that, I wouldn’t be calling you, would I?
I hung up on him.
I mean … WHAT the ACTUAL F?!
So we borrowed an extension ladder from a friend. I hummed the “Mission Impossible” theme while Dominic shimmied up and saved the day.
I was TERRIFIED of what bad things could happen here.
We should not have had to do this. Your emergency line people should actually have the capacity to help.
And you should have installed locks that actually work.
I can’t wait until our lease is up. I will NEVER recommend your company/complexes.
All is well here in the heartland of America. I explored downtown Rolla on foot in about an hour last weekend. I made it to much of the rest of the town throughout the week.
Plenty to amuse me here.
I’ve found that people are super chatty. It goes way beyond the Southern hospitality that I know.
I had LONG conversations with a woman next to me at the nail salon (she is from Salem, has four kids, back issues, etc.), a guy in the beer aisle at Walmart (his mom cooks with beer) and a couple at the farmer’s market (she is surprised I know how to cook turnip greens and he runs their produce mailing list).
My haul from yesterday. Am I a Southern girl or what?
Really lovely people. True embodiment of the phrase “salt of the earth.”
I’ve been all over campus this week and now know my way around very well. Same thing: such nice people!
I’m not sure if I mentioned this, but my new employer is putting me up in university housing for two months so I can acclimate to the university and get to know people before I start spending all my time in St. Louis.
University housing = residence hall
(No, I didn’t bring my futon, neon beer sign and bookcase made with plywood and milk crates. 😉)
I’m on what appears to be the men’s floor. Though I have a private outside entrance, the interior door opens onto the hallway.
I share my bedroom wall with the guys next door: Paul, Conor and Owen. They had a particularly rowdy night Tuesday night. I have no idea what they were doing, but now to me they are collectively the Noisy Nerds.*
I live for the day I’m invited to a hall party. (You know I’m not kidding.)
Anyway, I’m still fine. A little bored at night after work, but fine. I’ll make friends. Find things to do. As I do. Don’t worry.
Love, Beth
*Not a pejorative term. I too am a nerd about a variety of things. As you all know.
I’m hanging out with you for a couple of months while I get acclimated to my new job and find a place to live in St. Louis.
Why was I entertained? In a word: camels.
I happened to arrive just in time for the annual Celebration of Nations parade and festival.
Camels in the paradeA camel moments before he sneezed on meThe Missouri S&T miner mascot riding a camel. (Photo courtesy of Missouri S&T)Here’s a goofy alpaca just for kicks.
You know what else I loved?
“The World’s Finest Rolla German Band.” That’s their name. For real.This goatThe farmers marketLumpia and pancit from a Filipino food truck truck
After my last post, a number of friends said my decision is the right one as I’m always looking for new adventures. That’s true. And they said they look forward to me writing about them.
I Tetrised the heck out of my stuff to get it all to fit in my tiny trunk.
Dear Readers:
I’ve been keeping this blog for 12 years. I started it because I was about to make a class of students start one. I figured I needed to practice what I preached.
Anyway, though I’ve traveled all over the place and written about my adventures, my home base (i.e., where I get my mail) has always been Georgia.
That changes today. I’m Missouri bound.
Q: Um … why? A: I got a great new job, and I’ll be based in St. Louis.
Q: Isn’t that where your birth family is? A: Yes. The universe clearly has something to say. It’s also where I have loads of adopted family.
Q: Is your family excited? A: Excited for me, yes. But Eddie and the boys aren’t coming with me right now.
Q: What? A: Yeah. Eddie did not thrive when we moved to Atlanta. He missed Savannah, his job, his friends. So he went back to work at his old job. He’s much happier. The boys are staying in Atlanta with friends until winter break, then they will join him. I’ll be back with them as often as I can, and we’ll work it out.
Q: You think this is the right decision? A: I effing hope so. We had many family discussions. We decided on this plan together.
Q: You’re ok? A: Eh. In general. I watched two episodes of “Intervention” last night because I couldn’t sleep. Of course, I convinced myself I was scarring the children. I told Gideon that this morning. He rolled his eyes at me. So maybe I’m not scarring the children.
Q: But what if you are? A: What if I am? This is the path we chose together. At least the boys will see their parents doing jobs they really like.
Q: When do you start? A: Monday. I’ll be staying in university housing for two months. My plan is to find a permanent place this week, so I can make arrangements to get all my stuff moved up there.
Q: And you’re sure you’re ok? A: Well, there’s been plenty of ugly crying. I made a road-trip playlist. I got to “Wide Open Spaces” around Chattanooga, and lost my shit.
If you are inclined, send positive thoughts my way as I (we) embark on this new journey.
I am looking forward to writing about a new environment. I’m sure the Show Me State is named that for a reason.
I thought you were in the business of helping people. Immediately. I mean, IT’S IN THE TITLE of the place.
So when Gideon was attacked by a can of diced tomatoes, we naturally thought of you.
It was deep.
We showed up moments after the attack.
You said there were two other lacerations ahead of us, and that you wouldn’t be able to get to him before closing time.
IN TWO HOURS.
What the eff? For real?!
I don’t understand.
So we went to Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta Urgent Care. They sent us to the emergency room because the gash was three centimeters long — the cutoff for urgent care treatment, apparently.
The ER doctor rolled his eyes when he heard about our adventure. He said:
Just come here first. Don’t even bother with those urgent care places.
As many of you know, I’ve been taking what I’ve termed “murder-prevention trips” during the pandemic. As I’ve mentioned, I’m an extrovert who likes to travel. The pandemic was hard for me for those reasons, as well as the fact that my children and I were all up on each other trying to work/study.
(First-world problems, I know. We did not have nearly the issues that many, many other people had. But this was my reality, and I’m acknowledging its difficulty.)
I’m not an indoor cat.
Look at what Dominic got me (on his own!) to commemorate my latest trip:
Plus, my favorite band was playing their first gig in a billion years (i.e., 18 months).
I am such a huge Anglophile — constantly amused and/or impressed by the things I find. This jaunt was no exception.
An all-in-one station. You don’t even need to move your hands. Genius!If it’s needless, why is it there?Ew! No. That’s an assault on humanity.I asked the waiter what this was on the saucer. He said, “Flake.” I said, “A flake of what?” It’s chocolate. We Americans don’t have that.Brilliant!I love that it’s a “Demand” button instead of the more polite “Call.”I’ve never seen a toilet shaped like this.Well, OF COURSE there will be nudity. It’s the UK and “naked” is in the title.
I’ve promised Gideon a birthday trip there in May, COVID willing. Maybe he’ll be as delighted as I am with the cultural differences.
Observe and report 