PART OF AN ONGOING SERIES EXPLORING THE (SOMETIMES) LIGHTER SIDE OF A LIFE SPENT WORKING IN A HOTEL. READ EARLIER INSTALLMENTS HERE
by DEVEN MATTHEWS
“Keep an eye on room 643; the guests are freaking out!”
I’d just arrived at the front desk to work the night audit – more commonly known as the graveyard shift. It was about 10:45 pm, which gave me a 15-minute overlap with Elizabeth, who was finishing up her 3-11 pm shift. This 15-minute exchange of information was known as “pass-on” and allowed for a verbal update of the hotel preparing me to take the reins of the mid-size 200-room select service property.
“Why?” I asked. “What’s wrong with 643?”
“Nothing,” Elizabeth replied. “But the guests are claiming they’re hearing noises and one of the lamps suddenly turned on all by itself.”
Elizabeth recognized the unbelieving expression that overtook my face.
“Right?!” Elizabeth said. She gathered her final reports from the printer, stapled them, and added them to the stack that would be included in the night audit packet I’d be assembling once my shift began.
“Did they say what kind of noises they heard?” I asked.
“They couldn’t really describe the noise,” Elizabeth said. “She said it was a combination of moaning and mumbling. I don’t know… thought it might be the guests below them but room 543 is vacant.”
IT’S SPOOKY SEASON
Elizabeth’s report had me puzzled. Room 643 was on the top floor, the last room at the very end of the east corridor. The room was situated in a unique location in that it had no neighbors on either side. Its west wall was the hotels exterior, and to its east was a linen closet, which housekeeping used as storage. When guests requested a quiet room, I always housed them in 643.
“Hmm,” I said, curious about the complaints, but also dismissing them as fabricated. Elizabeth and I spoke for a few moments longer before she finally clocked out for the night at 11 p.m.
Around 11:30, I received a call at the desk from room 643. The guest on the phone was clearly upset.
“Hello,” he began. “My wife and I are in room 643 and we keep hearing strange noises.”
“Yes,” I responded, “My coworker who just went home mentioned something about this.”
“Well, it’s getting worse,” the guest stated. “We can hear scratching noises outside of the wall. Is there maybe a tree whose branches may be scraping the building?”
I was suddenly taken back to my childhood, when brothers would tell me scary stories. My chest tightened and the phone receiver trembled in my hand. Tales of creepy haunted houses and zombies rising from the dead flooded my memories accompanied by the terror that would once chill my bones. But that was kid’s stuff. Things like that didn’t exist in reality.
Did they?
“Yes, that wall is the hotel’s exterior wall”, I said, confirming that the guest was correct, “But there are no trees that tall over there.”
“Did Elizabeth also tell you the lamp keeps turning on by itself?” the gentleman on the phone asked. “It’s happened twice now.”
“Twice?” I asked, surprised. “Have you unplugged it from the wall?”
The guest took his voice away from the phone, “Honey, unplug that lamp,” he called out to his wife, and then returned to the phone. “It’s unplugged now.”
“It was probably just a short,” I reasoned logically. “I’ll have my engineer look at it tomorrow.”
“OK,” the guest said. “But what about the scratching?”
“If it continues, call me back.” I then offered the guest an option. “Would you like to move to a new room?” This was a solution that usually fixed most guest issues.
Once again, the man took the receiver from his mouth as he consulted his wife. “Hon, he’s asking if we want to move rooms?” There was a brief pause and he returned to the line and said, “No, it’s OK. We’re already in bed. I think we’ll be alright.”
“Sounds good. Call me if you need anything,” I said cheerfully, and we hung up.
I could only presume the guests had imagined the scratching sounds. Combined with the short in the lamp, it did hold the ingredients for a chilling situation for the guests.
But unbeknownst to either the guest or myself, things were going to get even more haunting.
WHO YA GONNA CALL?
At 12:45 a.m., the woman from room 643 called the desk.
“There’s something weird going on in this room,” the woman declared.
“What’s going on?” I asked through the receiver.
“Listen,” she replied.
I pressed my ear hard to the receiver, and although it was faint, I could hear distinct laughter. A child’s laughter, very melodic and high pitched. I thought it might be a recording or coming from their TV, but the eerie, hollow giggling faded in and out.
“What is that?” I asked.
“That’s what we want to know,” the guest asked. “Could it be the guests below us?”
“Possibly,” I agreed, but I knew that couldn’t be true. I had confirmed earlier that 543 was out-of-inventory and sitting vacant. Perhaps someone had gotten into 543 and were laughing loudly. I decided I would send security to go check it out and investigate the noise.
“Also,” the guest continued, “could you send up a couple of extra blankets. It’s freezing cold in here.”
“Sure,” I agreed. “I’ll ask the guests in room 543 to keep it down and I will send the blankets up right now. Is there anything else you need?”
“I think that’s it,” the guest said. “Thank you.”
I hung up the phone and picked up my radio. “Security, can you verify that room 543 is vacant, and then take two blankets to room 643?”
“Copy,” the security guard replied. My mind tried to rationalize the events in 643. The lamp could, indeed, be a short, but the scratching left me puzzled, and I had just heard the laughter of a child. It made no sense.
Ten minutes later, the security guard appeared at the desk.
“Hey, 543 is empty,” he said, “and I took the blankets to 643.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“That room was freezing!” he said. “They opened the door to get the blankets, and it was like a refrigerator in there!”
I stared at the security guard in disbelief. Unwilling to believe in any sort of ghost story or paranormal activity, my mind quickly rationalized the extreme temperature. The air conditioner must be broken, too… like the lamp. It’s stuck on low and won’t shut off.
Though, in reality, I think my mind was trying to convince itself.
By 1:30 that morning, my nightly audit duties were complete. Another day in the book and all accounts were balanced. I was wrapping a large rubber band around my thick stack of paperwork when my phone at the desk rang again. I shuddered when I looked at the caller ID which read “643,” yet I dutifully answered.
“Front desk.”
“What’s going on in this room?” the man barked at me over the phone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked in confusion.
“The laughing,” he explained, “it’s been continuing on and off for the past 45 minutes. I don’t think it’s coming from below us; it sounds like it’s coming from inside this room.”
My heart sank.
“My wife thought maybe someone’s hid a speaker in this room and is playing some kind of sick joke. But the sound moves around the room. The scratching is still happening, and it sounds like the laughter keeps crossing over into crying. It’s maddening!”
“Sir,” I said, “Let’s get you to a different room. I have a suite here on the first floor. I can have security help move your stuff.”
“No…” he hesitated. “That’s such a hassle. We’re beat and my wife is just about asleep… I’ll play some white noise on my phone and we’ll be fine. I just wanted to report all of this.”
“If you’re sure,” I said.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Oh, by the way,” I said, “Do you two have the air conditioner set to low?”
“No,” he said. “We actually shut it off about two hours ago. No air is blowing out of the vents, but it’s freezing in this room.”
My heart started racing in my chest. “Well,” I managed to stammer out, “You let me know if you need anything else.”
GET OUT
Another 45 minutes passed without a call from room 643. My mind had dismissed all the oddities reported that evening, and I subconsciously rationalized everything as faulty systems and the imagination of two very tired guests.
The phone suddenly rang, piercing the silence of the lobby. My caller ID noted it was the guest in room 637. I picked up the phone with two thoughts parading through my mind; the first was my gratitude that it wasn’t room 643 calling; the second was my curiosity regarding the reason for a phone call at 2:15 in the morning.
“Front desk,” I recited into the phone.
“A man and a woman just ran down the hallway towards the stairwell; the woman was screaming. Is everything OK? Are we in any kind of danger?”
My heart sank again as I instinctively knew it was the guests from room 643. All previous worries once again surfaced as I tried to maintain a professional demeanor.
“No,” I said, trying to conceal my fear. “It’s nothing. I apologize for the interruption.”
The guest hung up the phone just as I heard the stairwell door slam open and a man and woman rounded the corner. I knew immediately they were the occupants from room 643. They were wearing pajamas and carrying bags which had obviously been stuffed in a hurry as they weren’t securely fastened and spilling over with their belongings. They were both panting when the man attempted to speak through his heavy breathing.
“There’s something in that room with us.”
“What!?” I responded in disbelief.
“I can’t stay another minute in that room,” his wife said.
“We saw them,” the man continued, still striving to catch his breath.
“Who?” I asked, my heart sinking.
“Two kids,” his wife said. “Little girls. We SAW them, I swear on my life! Oh, I’m so scared I’m shaking,” she said as she buried her face in her hands, crying uncontrollably.
“She’s not lying,” the man confirmed, placing one hand on his wife’s back. “We both saw it. The laughing you heard on the phone kept fading in and out, getting louder and louder. Then there was a loud noise.”
“Like a door slamming,” his wife interrupted
“And there they were,” the man said with eyes that were wide and glassy. “These two kids just… appeared, standing a little in the air. They were at the foot of the bed.”
“They just looked at us,” the woman said with tears streaming down her face, “staring and grinning.”
A chill went down my back and I didn’t know how to respond. The reports the couple had relayed all night were typical “textbook” signs of supernatural activity – lights flickering, unexplained noises, sounds of children laughing and crying. These events combined with the unexplained cold temperature all seemed right out of a horror movie. Although I consciously tried to rationalize all of this strange activity, I couldn’t help but feel the couple was telling the truth and something unthinkable was occupying room 643.
“Let me get you another room,” I quickly uttered.
“NO!” they both said simultaneously, their breathing slowly returning to normal.
“I won’t stay at this hotel,” the woman declared.
“We’re leaving,” added her husband. “Can you just cancel the rest of our stay.”
“Of course,” I said, “And there’s no way I’m going to charge you for tonight’s stay. I’m really sorry about all of this.”
“Hey,” said the man. He looked at me very solemnly and his tone turned very serious. “Don’t put anyone in that room until you have it checked out.” He paused and looked at me soberly. “I don’t know by who – maybe a priest? But something really sketchy is going on in there.” He looked at me gravely before adding, “I’m serious.”
I could tell by his demeanor he and his wife were genuinely frightened. I assured them we’d take care of the situation, and they quickly left the hotel. My logical mind attempted to once again rationalize the evening’s events in room 643, but a terrifying feeling stayed with me long after the guests departed.
Unfortunately – or perhaps “fortunately,” depending on your perspective – we never found out the true cause behind this harrowing incident. Maybe it could all be chalked up to two road-weary travelers with a penchant for the dramatic. Or, maybe it was something else. Regardless, events such as these certainly keep hotel staffers on their toes.
You really never know what’s going to happen when you clock in for your shift.
Deven Matthews is a hotelier who has worked in the hotel industry for more than 23 years. A professor of hotel management at the College of Southern Nevada in Las Vegas, Deven enjoys instructing the future managers of Las Vegas hotels. He holds a master’s degree in business management and is fascinated by all things hospitality. When not immersed in hotels, Deven enjoys playing the piano and spending time with his wife and their six children.
