For those who noticed my status update, my Dad was jailed over the weekend for driving under the influence. He had gone out of town for a golfing trip and this happened. I don't know the details and I'm not sure I want to.
Also, my aunt has an aggressive cancer that may be incurable. We are waiting to hear on that as well.
So, things are not great.
I have decided to write a few stories that cheer me up, and usually make me laugh or smile when I tell them. Cause damn i really need that right now. I am going to share them here.
The first one is about my first trip to New Orleans. I went with my friend, who I am calling R, and we met up with @joann414 and her friend, D. It was my first vacation after a really rough year, and I wanted to get a full experience, so I naturally rented a room at the most haunted hotel I could find. I did not share this with R until we were already there. That was a mistake.
R does not like ghosts. She was not thrilled when I shared the history of the hotel with her, she outright refused to check out Marie Laveau's shop and somewhat reluctantly joined me on a walking tour of some of New Orlean's most haunted places. I was having a blast. I loved the walking tour (which was on our last night there). R did not. She was freaked out by all the stories we were told (granted, some of them were pretty gruesome). We get back to our hotel, set our cell phone alarms as usual, and go to sleep.
Well, Cassie went to sleep. R laid awake for a while, thinking about ghosts. And quietly freaking out.
Right at midnight, the radio alarm went off. Which we never set. Full volume.
R sits up in the bed and starts screaming bloody murder. Cassie is woken up and confused, as it is dark, the alarm is still going off and R is still screaming. I finally get the lamp turned on, turn off the alarm. R is out of bed at this point and is insisting that we leave right away.
It is still the middle of the night.
I am trying to calm her down, telling her that there are no ghosts in the room, when the radio alarm which I am holding in my hand, goes off again. We end up yanking it from the outlet, and hiding it in the closet for the rest of the night.
I am sure the cleaning staff came in and set it by accident. But still, when we were getting ready to leave, we filled out the comment card: "Room is haunted. Otherwise, had a great stay!"
R has not gone back to New Orleans since.
* * *
Another story is from when I first moved to my current hometown and was working at the hospital. It was the holidays and I had Christmas off, but had to work Christmas Eve. Every Christmas Eve, without fail, all of the family gets together, usually at my Grandma's house, and we eat, drink, and open gifts (but mostly drink). I got off work Christmas Eve and went to meet my sister at my parent's house. Because of reasons, we leave a little bit late, around 6. It usually takes around an hour and a half to get to Grandma's. Since we were both moved here fairly recently, my sister was going to use her Garmin GPS to guide us to Grandma's.
Now Grandma lives in a very small, kind of run down town with very spotty cell reception. Just FYI. We start off and everything looks good at first. We are following the directions that the Garmin gives us (well, my sister is driving, I am mostly looking around and delivering witty commentary). Garmin takes us down this long ass road that looks like something out of a horror movie. Narrow, poorly lit, with tall woods on each side. I question our directions and then gleefully start telling my sister that if we were in a horror movie, this is where the car would break down and then a crazy guy comes out of the woods to chase us down before killing us. My sister is hissing at me to "shut up, shut up, shut up".
We notice a strange, flickering light in the distance. We joke about UFOs. We get closer and discover that it is a house that has caught fire. On Christmas Eve. (Foreshadowing IRL)! There are already cops and firefighters on the scene, so we are forced to turn around. But it is okay. We have the Garmin.
Garmin flips out when we turn around. We are sent down back roads, dirt roads, roads that don't have names. A half hour later, we went up right back in front of the house that is on fire.
Somewhere during this entire fiasco, we decided that we should call our dad and see if he had some better directions than heading down some unnamed road in the middle of the nowhere. Cell reception where Grandma lives is spotty, so we are unsure if this is going to work, but we were lost and desperate. We also both had to pee really badly at that point, and there was nowhere open because it was Christmas Eve.
My aunt (the one battling cancer) answers the phone and she is, predictably, drunk. Either the reception is so bad that she can't make out what we are asking, or she is too drunk to get it, because she is wanting to know if we are going to be there in time to open presents and if I like my new job. We finally get our dad on the line and I try to explain best I can where we are at and how we got there. His response was that he had no idea where we were and what kind of directions we were following.
We finally had to ask the police officer who was turning traffic around at the house if she knew how to get to where we needed to go. She did, and the directions were so easy and simple that I wanted to throw the Garmin out of the window and run it over with our car.
We get to Grandma's around nine o clock that night. We had missed dinner, but there were plenty of leftovers and once I had a deep fried turkey leg in one hand and a margarita my dad made me in the other, I was a pretty happy camper.
Those are two of my favorite stories, happening the way I remember. I like them. If anyone wants to share their own, they are more than welcome to, but I just needed to do something to lift my spirits because I have a feeling things are about to get really bad. I hope I'm wrong.