Saturday, November 24, 2012

My Own Shining

I finally did it. I walked down the hallways of a major haunted hotel. I had never heard of the Arlington Hotel in Hot Springs, Arkansas. Steve, Jacob, and I went to Steve's brother's wedding one October afternoon. The hotel is simply gorgeous! You know me, you know how I love the old stuff best.

When we first walked in, we saw a bar to the right and tables in the middle. On the far left is a beautiful hand painted scene. The television was blaring in the background and people's voices were buzzing softly.

I knew, well, just had a feeling, that the place was haunted since it was built in 1924. I googled the Arlington and found a few haunted comments about it. The 11th floor is the one that is supposed to be haunted with gansters from the past. Al Capone used to rent out the entire floor and do his, I can just picture it now...women in the party gowns, men in their suits, old timey music playing in the background, gunshots, well, never mind.

I talked Jacob into going to the 11th floor. We slowly got off the elevator, just the two of us. He grabbed my hand since he is a "Scooby Doo." There was an antique elevator off to the left that suddenly started. Jacob and I jumped back and yelled.
We slowly walked down the hallway as the hum of music played in the background. We walked one way and then walked the next. Gold number plates hung on each door. There was no noise, just deafening silence, until the elevator started again. We rushed to the usable elevator and started laughing. As we were going down to the lobby, I told him, "Wouldn't it be funny if we opened the door and we were on the same floor?" About that time, the door did open and a lady was standing there. Jacob and I yelled. She laughed and apologized for scaring us. Now we could laugh. I talked Steve into going up to the 11th floor. Unwillingly he did. There was no music that time. Anyway, it was fun having just a small experience and I was relieved to have no twin girls beckoning for me to come play with them.

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