It's Haunted Alright...

by stupid people. Allow me to explain.

On Saturday, Andy and I stayed at a reportedly haunted lodge out in Utah's ski country. I have whims like this, on occasion. A couple weeks ago I stumbled across a Haunted Places in Utah site. I sent the link to Andy, we peeked at a couple places, found a little lodge that was cute, and decided to go. My decision to do so was vastly aided by several factors, which I shall present in list-like form, as it pleases my diseased little brain.

1. The Lodge was running a special as it is off season for skiing (why does that word never look right?). Decent price, cute countrified room, home-cooked breakfast included. So far, so good.

2. The Lodge is located up a beautiful canyon and promises an outdoor hot-tub and sauna with a beautiful view. Also good.

3. The lodge promises an excellent menu of higher end noshing. Being the fat gir erm, foodie that I am, this is always a significant aspect in my decision making process.

4. The Lodge is supposed to be relatively empty this time of year, promising one's fill of solitude and serenity. I can always use a little of each - so cool, right?

5. Lodge is haunted. Also very very cool.

So I booked the room, and off we went. It all started well enough, the drive up the canyon was lovely. Andy's company is always immensely enjoyable. We were having a grand old time joking about the various ways we might be ghosted in the middle of the night.

Then we pull up to the lodge. Which looks nothing as grand as the photos they have posted on the website. There are several more cars parked outside than I had expected. I begin to feel dubious.

"This may not be very cool." I say, suddenly feeling the need to warn Andy.

"I'm sure it will be great," he counters, ever my more optimistic half.

I feel my eyebrows bunch. Something is weird. But we go in anyway and are greeted promptly at the door by Dirk-the-not-so-bright lodge dude and a barely controlled chaos of employees shouting and rushing every which way.

"Sorry folks, we're closed for a wedding," he bellows.

"Uh, what?"

"Closed. We're closed. We have a wedding here tonight."

"Oh, that's odd. We have reservations to stay here tonight," Andy informs him.

"Oh yeah?" Dirk consults a pencil-scribbled ledger. "Oh, I guess you do. Here, fill this out." He shoves a piece of paper towards Andy.

"So is the restaurant closed as well?" Andy inquires politely, filling out the slip. He knows I am fuming, irritated at the unwelcoming greeting, more irritated that my hopes of dinner are in peril, more than a little peeved that no one bothered to inform me of the wedding when I made the reservation.

"Yep. But I think the reception is gonna have a buffet line. You guys should just crash and grab some grub." He chuckles.

I narrow my eyes at his back as he turns away, Andy quietly asks if I want to push it out a couple weeks. I tell him no, that the room is non-refundable and we are already here. My discontent is quickly doubling and redoubling.

Another minion tells us he will take us to the room. He leads us through the dining room (where the reception will be held) up the stairs to the room. I am now panicky as I realize if we want to come and go at all that night, we will do so through some one's wedding reception. Tables are also set out on the patio, so unless I want to prance amongst the wedding guests in my bathing suit, sauna-ing and hot-tubbing are also out.

In the hall we edge past a group of women spilling from the nearby room, ironing some component of the bridal gown.

Our room at the end of the hall is small, wood paneled, and has hideous doilies tucked under animal themed lamps. It also smells. Minion points out that we have a view of the patio and can spy in the wedding guests if we want. His suggestion is the creepiest thing about the place as of yet. Still the view of aspens and pine trees beyond is nice. Minion leaves, I frown.

"Is it so unreasonable to expect that someone should have told me that they were hosting a wedding on this particular weekend?" I ask Andy. He agrees, they should have told us. We decide we will drive further up the canyon for an early dinner and then return before the reception begins and hole up in our room. We find a place to eat and are the only ones there, which is nice. The cook informs me he doesn't trust the steak, and asks if could he interest me in a burger instead.

"Fine," I say. It's not. I can't shake my disappointment. Still it's cloudy and beautiful in the canyon. It looks like rain and I am here with Andy, who is enjoying himself.

The storm begins in earnest as we arrive back at the Lodge. The parking lot and surrounding road is choked with cars. We elbow our way through a clot of wedding guests to get to the stairs. People look at us strangely. "Are they supposed the be here?" Someone whispers behind us. "Look, they're going up stairs," a concerned female points out. "Just let them go," her male companion comments. "They're probably just lost."

I fight an urge to cartwheel down the stairs ninja-style and kick them in the head. Probably best as I can't cartwheel and I don't have any ninja moves. I'd likely trip and fall on Aunt Edna, killing her instantly. Maybe then this place really would be haunted. I smirk at the thought then promptly censure myself. I have a formidable mean streak when I'm feeling put out and anxious.

We settle onto the bed and read as it begins to pour. I finally begin to unwind. I open the window and watch the rain slant onto the tables, soaking the cloths, ruining the flowers. Concerned female shrieks and people scampering to drag in the decorations. I shouldn't be pleased but I am. A wolf howls in the distance. Andy and I grin at each other. Perhaps this won't be so bad after all. The night is lovely, the rain loud enough to compete with the revelers from the reception. I have a nagging feeling they will all still be here tomorrow morning, and I am correct.

The last part of the reservation worth salvaging, the promised breakfast with our bed, already looks foreboding. As we ready ourselves for the morning we can see from our window that the tables on the patio, still sparkling with last night's rain, are clogged with people. We pack up and decide to do a drive-by as we turn in our room key. The restaurant is stuffed with people, there is not an open table to be had. We elect not to wait, and leave.

It was a lovely night, nevertheless, but not through any fault or effort of the people who run the lodge. By accident and happenstance. And was not, sadly, haunted by anything other regular ordinary people. Methinks I may need to go leave a couple reviews.

-Cyndi