Monday, October 28, 2013

Haunted Yellowstone, Part 2

In honor of Halloween, I’m retelling some of my experiences at a haunted hotel in Wyoming. Some of these, some folks may have heard before. This ain’t fiction--this really happened.

Part 2: Early checkout

I wasn’t the regular night guy at the front desk, but I found myself again filling in working the graveyard shift at Lake Yellowstone Hotel. At this point in time, I was primarily doing work with group tours and filling in on the night shift as needed. The lobby of the hotel is quite large. There are two wings of the hotel. One is accessed by a grand staircase that runs right don into the lobby area. The newer wing of the hotel is down a hallway and has an elevator.

As my regular "day job" duties had not gone away, plus I also had the night shift reports to prepare, I was quite busy and not anxious to deal with guest matters that evening. So, I didn’t quite know what to think when I heard the unmistakable sound of people coming down the stairs. I saw a gentleman with luggage, followed by two kids, then mom was bringing up the rear. It was 12:45 in the morning. There is nowhere to go at that time of the morning in Yellowstone National Park. The nearest town is almost 100 miles away. But, there this family was.

The guest handed me a room key. The second I saw it I felt like I already knew what happened. It was the key to room 209–the haunted room. At least, many of the employees insisted the room was haunted by a ghost they’d named Matilda.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"We’re getting out of here," the guest replied.

I had already deduced that.

The wife finally interjected. "There’s a ghost in our room."

"I see," said I. "I’m sorry to hear that."

She then explained she’d woken and was a bit shocked to see a woman standing by the kid’s bed, looking at them. Then, the woman vanished. Mom had woken the family up and demanded they leave. I pointed out nothing was open in the park and the nearest towns were some distance away. She didn’t care.

As they started to leave, I asked what the ghost looked like. She described a 1920s flapper with a tight headband. This was the same exact description the employees who’d seen her always gave. I don’t know where they went, but I guess anyplace sounded good to them.

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