I'm skipping ahead of the friend nostalgia and kitty eulogies to take in something more recent- I was asked to do the good old scary tours again this year in Stipples. Fun, huh? It's pretty streamlined from what I remember (short tours are 90 minutes, and the long ones with the cave business- 2 hrs) After getting practice tour, driving the route myself, and finally the schedule- I started on October 17th. Coincidentally, mom's birthday. And so, I birthday'd her a free scary tour.
Please understand that (A) even though the 3 people who read this will more than likely never go on the tour (Or in the case of one, had worked there so long she's seen/heard most of the s#it I'm going to tell you any way) that (B) I can't get into to much spoiler-y story detail anyway. It's a paid public tour, and people deserve to get their surprise. However, there is a disclaimer-
Muck Muck Moreau (my fellow tour guide) and I have had this weird history of doing tours together. Since going on sabbatical 2 years ago, it was nice to get back into a routine with him again. We have the timing down pat. We know when to move on from site to site. How to work up the appropriate feelings of fear and dread. And for his part, he stopped giggling so much. He's still incredibly bad at math though. (I had to correct him on decades versus centuries)
Except the Muckster is a tried and true believer. The guy sees ghosts coming out of car exhaust. On my earlier tours, it was almost a goofball/straight man schtick. Later, I was worried that his excitability over it might invalidate the mystery. And then, this'd be about 4 years into touring together, even I couldn't help notice that every year at least ONE f#cked up thing happens on our tour. After this long intro, and my first tour back in 2 years...no less than THREE things happened. And they were alllll f#cked up.
1) First tour, small tour. (14 peeps) We shut people in a pitch black cave and tell stories. When we're done- I can't find the rope to open the garage. I get a little help, but it wasn't from Muck. He looks at me stupidly and said "Did you hear that scraping?" I said yes, that it was me, and I was frantically trying to get the door open. We're quietly arguing on the bus, when the last people come on and a lady says-"Is that why you turned around? We thought we hear something too!" I brush that clear off, and we depart.
2) We're driving away from Mounds Park and have just finished a scary hospital story, when I see an old man in the back row holding court. I'm talking, and get a little miffed that he has 3 other people listening to his pow-wow so I yell (very sweetly, mind) "What's so very interesting back THERE?" And the older gentleman raises his hand (RAISES his HAND) and says "Sir, I think the window was shot out."
We're on big coach tour buses. Windows don't just get "shot out". But sure as s#it stinks, the exterior tinted window (they're two ply, and thankfully the interior window was in tact) had a fracture and was raining shards of shrapnel down periodically whenever we'd hit a bump. The man then says "Didn't you hear that?" (From what we gathered, it either had to be a kid with a b-b gun or someone with a rock getting hurled super fast and hard. I just don't know how I could have missed that.)
3) At the cemetery, someone had left a birthday cake in front of one of the children's graves. Not supernatural, really. Just sad, and a little creepy. While there, our driver has to knock out the remaining pieces and clean it up off the street. I feel bad for the guy, but happy he has a broom and bucket on the bus. ("What, Irvin?!??! You have all that and no DUSTpan?!?!)
And we were late. F#ck.
4) Tour #2. Mama and her friends show up and it's hard to mask our agitation and weird out factor. I'm sweating even though it's 40 degrees. We agree to make it a story and lead the group back to the caves. (Our cave liaison went to look at it and almost yelped "What the F#CK?") I end up having to corral a little blonde chain smoker who was flying solo and smelled of Bacardi and wouldn't shut up about how much she LOVED the tours and LOVED the history. I fend off my mom's withering glances (She thought it was being flirty.) I get the last of the tour in when the cave liaison comes up to me and whispers:
"Um. Just so you know, right before you came in? One of the candles in the glass holders...exploded everywhere."
Oh. That's not all. The slide show? That she's done dozens of times before and has so much time to reset and prep? Kept jumping to the last slide. For 3 minutes.
5) We tell the group the story of the window. A big group (30 or so) they seem less than impressed. There are a few takers, but apparently they don't share our disbelief. We get to the sight of a gruesome death at a meat packing plant. When my partner goes out to shine the spot on the building, a couple comes out to walk their dog. Turns out, it's the new owner. And he has stories. And they. Are. Weird. (Braced and locked windows opened from the inside. The ghost of a boxer on the loading dock with a matching poster from 40 years ago downstairs. Tools missing and found lined up the next day. Automatic toothbrush being turned on in the middle of the night, spinning around on the counter.) He leaves and I tell everyone: "That beats my story".
6) We make it back on time and see everyone off and collect our things. I go to say good bye/happy birthday to my mom etc. when blondie from earlier in the tour comes over to us. (I wonder if there are Ghost Tour Groupies) She insists we all look at her camera and she shows us pictures from the cemetery. She said she kept the flash off, like she was asked, and showed the silhouette of the group, my big-ass spotlight, and then the next two were of the weird green orbs she said she took behind where we had convened off into the deeper part of the cemetery.
While this isn't indicative of ALL of the weird stuff that has happened to us over the years, it certainly is the most in one evening.
Jeebus. I'm gonna need to start brining an old priest and a young priest on board my next tour.
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