Chelsea Horror Hotel
Friday, August 8, 2008 (Part 1, Day 1)
*Rachel's P.O.V.*
Uncle Mike, myself, our luggage, and last, but certainly not least, Sid Vicious' ghost, are all crammed in the elevator. The other members of Green Day, the rest of their road crew, the other two bands on the tour - My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy - and their road crews are all still checking in at the front desk.
"Hi Sid," I say once I realize that Sid Vicious' ghost is standing right next to Uncle Mike. Sid doesn't scare me. For one thing, I actually like the supernatural. For the second thing, I'd read about the various ghosts at the Chelsea Hotel on the hotel's Web site, and it said that Sid's ghost can sometimes be seen in the elevator. I was kinda expecting him.
"Where is he? I don't see him," Uncle Mike says, looking all around.
"He's standing right next to you, leaning back against the .wall with a cigarette in his mouth," I say.
"You're shitting me," Uncle Mike says, and then his eyes widen and he clamps his hand over his mouth and gasps. "I mean, 'you're kidding me.' Sorry. You'll have to excuse my French."
"It's okay. It's not like it's anything I haven't heard before," I say, shrugging nonchalantly.
"Hey, but, Sid Vicious' ghost is really standing next to me?" he asks, shifting the conversation back to the subject of Sid.
"Okay, now you're shitting me! You seriously can't feel his presence?" I ask in disbelief.
"No, I can't feel his presence. And watch your language. Your parents said you could come under one condition: that you don't go home being disrespectful and defiant and rebellious towards them, and wanting to drink alcohol like it's water, and swearing like a sailor.
"They should've said under three conditions," I say, being a smart-ass, which is something that only Uncle Mike lets me get away with.
"Yeah, but they didn't, so deal with it," Uncle Mike says in fake frustration and anger as the three of us step off the elevator, Uncle Mike and I carrying our luggage.
When we get to Room 100/117, I pull the key-card out of my pocket and swipe it across a little scanner thing on the door. A green light just above the little scanner thing came on and I opened the door. We were greeted with a rush of cold air - make that very cold air. Hotel room air is almost always cold, especially when you open the door, but it's never as cold as it was coming out of Room 100/117 of the Chelsea Hotel.
"Severe fluctuations in temperature and cold spots are both signs of a haunting," I say, smiling mischievously because I know Uncle Mike will be annoyed by my comment.
Uncle Mike rolls his eyes. "Here we go. Little Miss Ghost-busters on a mission to make Sid and Nancy cross over into the light. Thank God you're sixteen and old enough to take care of yourself so I don't have to stay with you."
I sniffle and try to make it sound like I'm sobbing when I say, "I feel so loved."
We step inside the room, and I instantly head for the bathroom, on the floor of which is where Nancy bled to death.
Uncle Mike keeps quiet for a minute, but then his discomfort and uneasiness start to show: "What's so special about the bathroom, anyway? I mean, it's not like her body's still in there, or the bloodstains are still there. It might not even be the same bathroom."
"How could it not be the same bathroom?" I ask.
"Remember how this room used to be two rooms? 100 and the one behind it, but then they knocked out the wall separating them and made it into one big room?"
"Yeah. So?'
"So maybe the bathroom that's in here now was the bathroom of the room behind Room 100. Maybe they tore out Room 100's bathroom."
"Maybe," I say.
"Why don't we go check out my room now?" Uncle Mike says. "Maybe Dee Dee Ramone or somebody stayed in my room."
"Nope. It couldn't have been Dee Dee. He stayed here, in Room 100, after they made it bigger and started calling it Room 117. That was how he knew Room 117 is the old 100. He could feel Sid and Nancy's presences and he could sense all the negative energy in the room."
Uncle Mike keeps shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and he looks really nervous.
"Okay, fine. We'll go see your room," I say, surrendering.
Uncle Mike, myself, our luggage, and last, but certainly not least, Sid Vicious' ghost, are all crammed in the elevator. The other members of Green Day, the rest of their road crew, the other two bands on the tour - My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy - and their road crews are all still checking in at the front desk.
"Hi Sid," I say once I realize that Sid Vicious' ghost is standing right next to Uncle Mike. Sid doesn't scare me. For one thing, I actually like the supernatural. For the second thing, I'd read about the various ghosts at the Chelsea Hotel on the hotel's Web site, and it said that Sid's ghost can sometimes be seen in the elevator. I was kinda expecting him.
"Where is he? I don't see him," Uncle Mike says, looking all around.
"He's standing right next to you, leaning back against the .wall with a cigarette in his mouth," I say.
"You're shitting me," Uncle Mike says, and then his eyes widen and he clamps his hand over his mouth and gasps. "I mean, 'you're kidding me.' Sorry. You'll have to excuse my French."
"It's okay. It's not like it's anything I haven't heard before," I say, shrugging nonchalantly.
"Hey, but, Sid Vicious' ghost is really standing next to me?" he asks, shifting the conversation back to the subject of Sid.
"Okay, now you're shitting me! You seriously can't feel his presence?" I ask in disbelief.
"No, I can't feel his presence. And watch your language. Your parents said you could come under one condition: that you don't go home being disrespectful and defiant and rebellious towards them, and wanting to drink alcohol like it's water, and swearing like a sailor.
"They should've said under three conditions," I say, being a smart-ass, which is something that only Uncle Mike lets me get away with.
"Yeah, but they didn't, so deal with it," Uncle Mike says in fake frustration and anger as the three of us step off the elevator, Uncle Mike and I carrying our luggage.
When we get to Room 100/117, I pull the key-card out of my pocket and swipe it across a little scanner thing on the door. A green light just above the little scanner thing came on and I opened the door. We were greeted with a rush of cold air - make that very cold air. Hotel room air is almost always cold, especially when you open the door, but it's never as cold as it was coming out of Room 100/117 of the Chelsea Hotel.
"Severe fluctuations in temperature and cold spots are both signs of a haunting," I say, smiling mischievously because I know Uncle Mike will be annoyed by my comment.
Uncle Mike rolls his eyes. "Here we go. Little Miss Ghost-busters on a mission to make Sid and Nancy cross over into the light. Thank God you're sixteen and old enough to take care of yourself so I don't have to stay with you."
I sniffle and try to make it sound like I'm sobbing when I say, "I feel so loved."
We step inside the room, and I instantly head for the bathroom, on the floor of which is where Nancy bled to death.
Uncle Mike keeps quiet for a minute, but then his discomfort and uneasiness start to show: "What's so special about the bathroom, anyway? I mean, it's not like her body's still in there, or the bloodstains are still there. It might not even be the same bathroom."
"How could it not be the same bathroom?" I ask.
"Remember how this room used to be two rooms? 100 and the one behind it, but then they knocked out the wall separating them and made it into one big room?"
"Yeah. So?'
"So maybe the bathroom that's in here now was the bathroom of the room behind Room 100. Maybe they tore out Room 100's bathroom."
"Maybe," I say.
"Why don't we go check out my room now?" Uncle Mike says. "Maybe Dee Dee Ramone or somebody stayed in my room."
"Nope. It couldn't have been Dee Dee. He stayed here, in Room 100, after they made it bigger and started calling it Room 117. That was how he knew Room 117 is the old 100. He could feel Sid and Nancy's presences and he could sense all the negative energy in the room."
Uncle Mike keeps shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and he looks really nervous.
"Okay, fine. We'll go see your room," I say, surrendering.