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My personal ghost story is potentially one of the least ominous, uncreepy, not spoooooooooky things that has happened to anyone yet still falls under the category of ghost story. If I told this story by a camp fire with a torch under my chin, I would cure people of their fear of the dark. Hold on to your hats. I was working installing cable in hotels in a time before DSL was common (making me a hero to those who wanted grainy low budget pornography on demand) and having a lot of trouble with one room. No matter what I was doing, leading the cable to this one specific room was just a pain in the arse. The conduit was getting caught on poo poo whenever we were running it through the ceiling space. The new TV we installed refused to work, forcing us to try another, then another. I lost the crimps to attach the cable to the doohicky that plugs into the tv, even known I put them down right next to me. Even when we got past all of this, the reception was always lovely - even through a perfectly good cable - and was prone to dropouts. We shrugged, understanding that we'd get paid even if we didn't fix any problems, and moved on. On the way out of the hotel that evening, one of the staff jokingly asked if we had any problems in that room. It had a reputation for being haunted after a salesman had killed himself in the room eighty years earlier and anyone trying to upgrade the room would find themselves having difficulty, as the spirit within preferred the room to stay as it was. That was my only time dealing with something that could well have been paranormal. The only thought I had at the time wasn't a panicked "DEAR BABY JESUS GHOSTS ARE REAL!!!" but "Man, ghosts are loving arseholes."
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Apr 17, 2014 08:34
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| # ¿ Apr 28, 2024 18:59 |
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