We Thought Our Room Was Haunted

I hadn't seen my long distance boyfriend, *B, in about six months. So when he came to visit for Thanksgiving, all we could think about was sex. He was staying with family and I was still living at home during that time, so we decided it would be best to bump uglies in the luxurious Knight's Inn next to Disneyland (it's closed now, but to this day, B still believes it's likely due to the unholy demons inhabiting the room and sucking all joy and spirit from its former Disney affiliates). B was generous (or horny) enough to book us a room overnight so we could have some private time alone.

After we did our usual rounds of saying hello to family, we threw all our shit in the trunk of my car and sped as quickly as possible to the hotel. Upon arrival, the hotel location seemed just a tad bit sketchy. It looked like the type of place a businessman who couldn't afford the Double Tree Inn would take a lowly prostitute to slap his balls vigorously against her butt cheeks. It wasn't as terrible as a Motel 6, but it certainly wasn't the Cosmopolitan either. The outside was dark and poorly lit, and there were a few raggedy homeless people walking around the parking lot aimlessly. No biggie, I've seen much worse on Hollywood and Vine (and I'm talking "human feces on the floor next to an unconscious man dressed in a romper reeking of piss" worse). I was just too blinded by my raging sexual urges and excitement to care about any possible dangers in my surroundings.

We parked the car, hauled our bags from the trunk, and walked into the lobby. There was this huge red velvet chair that looked like a throne and I sat on it while B signed all the paperwork. The man working behind the desk was an older middle eastern gentlemen of shorter stature who spoke with a nearly indecipherable accent. He thumbed through the signed paperwork, looked it over tactfully, and then slid the plastic room keycard across the marble countertop over to B. We grabbed our luggage as the man pointed us towards the direction of our room.

We walked over to our room and slid the plastic keycard into the metal door slot. It beeped green and we made our way in. We dropped our bags on the floor, took a quick shower, turned on the TV, and settled in. Despite the abysmal outer appearance of the lodging, the inside decor was pretty decent. I thought to myself, nice digs.

All of a sudden, the radio clock sitting on the nightstand between the two beds made this loud, crackling static noise. B calmly walked over to the clock and tried to turn it off. The noise continued to be loud and scratchy, so he shoved his arm between the wall and the nightstand to reach for the cord. His face was pressed against the wall as he struggled to pull the plug. Eventually the sound stopped. I didn't really think twice about the noise because I was distracted by the TV.

B walked over quietly, reached for the remote, and turned off the TV. He told me to be quiet for a second so he could listen.

Me: "What are we listening for?"
B: "Shhhhh. Hold on."
Me: "You're acting really weird."
B: "SHHHHH!"

I stood silent in the middle of the room as B paced around checking the AC unit, the corners of the room, and the closet like a psychotic ward patient. B was acting paranoid like someone was watching us and then I felt incredibly uneasy and creeped out. He walked over to me and lowered his voice as if trying to make sure no one would hear him.

B: "I don't want to freak you out, but I think we should leave immediately."

WELL FUCK DUDE. If you start your sentence with a disclosure like "I don't want to freak you out," then you are most definitely implying that the following statement WILL FREAK ME THE FUCK OUT. With B being a typically rational and level-headed person, I had never seen this side of him so I thought the worst. Just for context, B has served in Afghanistan, rarely loses his temper, rarely complains, and is a generally a really calm dude. When he was in a motorcycle accident, when he's talking to cops, when a FIREBALL BLEW UP in his face and burned off his eyebrows--he's always maintained stony composure with no changes in his facial expressions or body language. Literally nothing phases him. So, to see something rattle him this intensely was jarring, to say the least. I asked him what was wrong, and he said couldn't tell me. I trusted that something was really wrong and stopped prying, so we quickly jammed our clothes and toiletries into our duffel bags and booked it out of there.

We went to the management office where we originally signed our paperwork. I set my bag down by the big red, velvety chair and stood next to B. B rang the desk bell until the manager who checked us in sauntered slowly to the front. He looked up at us slightly surprised that we had come back so soon.

Knights Inn Manager: "Hi, how can I help you?"
B: "We'd like to check out."
Knights Inn Manager: (confused) "Was something wrong with the room?"
B: "Um, okay, so this is going to sound really crazy, but I think our room is haunted."

I was shocked. I turned my head to look over at him so confused, and then immediately looked down to suppress the laughter that was about to damn near explode out of my mouth. I bit down on my lip and felt my chest throb in and out in little spurts as I tried to keep down the pressurized bursts of laughter-filled air dying to escape my chest cavity.

B: "Look. I'm really Catholic and I don't mess around with demons or ghosts. The clock radio started making these weird staticky noises by itself. So after I turned it off, it kept making noises. Then after I unplugged it from the wall, it still kept making noises even though it had no power source. I...I think there's a ghost in our room."
Knights Inn Manager: "Well, I mean...we have four and a half stars on Yelp and no one's ever complained about ghosts before. I'm sorry but I can't give you a refund."
B: "That's fine, I don't even care. We just want to leave immediately."

B cut his losses and we left without a word. We got in the car and drove quietly for what seemed like forever until B finally broke the silence.

B: "I'm rethinking all my life choices. I need to start going to church."

The moral of the story is that $90 at the Knights Inn will get you 40 minutes in a room with no sex. It will, however, ensure that you never miss another Sunday service.

*Names have been changed.