Spooky Stories

In line with the holiday spirit (HA!), I thought it would be great to sit down this spooky season and tell a couple of scary stories that have happened to me that I can remember.

Yes, I believe in ghosts. I believe they are around us at times. I believe places are more haunted than others. Some might say what I saw could be easily explained by science, facts and other environmental variables within the stories. I will leave the stories open for your interpretation.

One of the most haunted places I ever had to be in was my first radio gig. Located in a really bad area of El Paso, the station used to be many things in its really long history. It started off life as a two story house. Soon, it turned into a two family apartment. Then, after decades of vacancy, it turned into a church, back into a vacant house and finally a radio station (which a new one sits now). I worked at the first incarnation of the radio station and have some rather interesting stories to tell.

Lets build an image of the intimate studio area for you. To gain entrance, you have to park in the rear of the building and walk down a flight of steps to the basement level. Once in, this small area (5 X 10) held a small desk, file cards filled with music and a portable FM radio playing the music the station played. Off to the left wall was the small studio. The studio (8 X 8) had the basics. It held a simple 8 channel audio board, microphone, minidisc player (used for commercials) and two turn tables (seemingly inoperable) set up in a "U" formation. Once seated, you had a window directly ahead into another studio and a smaller window to the right that looked into the studio from the small entrance area and flight of stairs.

With this in mind, lets continue.

The station held its CDs in a rack that was located behind the door to the studio, so the door had to be shut to access the CDs at any given time. The room was large enough for two people to comfortably stand inside and pull and return CDs. One of the most quirkiest things about the room was it had a Plexiglas message board suspended from the ceiling by two chains. Any touching of the board would cause it to rock back and forth. I remember this because when I first started, the guy who I would take over for would have a pet peeve about keeping that board still as possible. I remember one day watching him steady it after removing his playlist. We turned our attention to the CD rack and started to pull and return CDs.

We chit-chatted for a moment, getting the gossip of the building, telling jokes. We both finished at the exact same time, turned to the control board to see the Plexiglas message board swinging wildly back and forth on its chains as if someone pushed it with force. The two of us just stood there and watched it for about two swings. The DJ looked at me and asked if I did that. I said no. I said I watched him steady it, then turned to the CD rack at the same time he did. He reached out, stopped it then we both stayed in silence for about an hour.

Before you say "the AC turned on", it didn't. If it did, all of the papers left on the board would have flown off. The A/C doesn't move an object one full foot to make it swing wildly.

So after this, I eventually got placed on a different shift. I had inherited the closing shift, 3pm - 11pm. I was all alone in this building which I was so psyched about. Then, the noises started. It started with a loud "whumph" against the walls. It usually didn't occur more than once, but it was enough to make you start wondering what the hell it was. Then, more noises started to come about. Noises you couldn't ignore. Sure, old buildings "settle" and they "creak", but are they supposed to call out your name?

I was sitting in the studio, talking to my friend James. It was around 7:45 that night and I had just about every light in the building turned off. I had the stereo in the entrance area turned pretty low so I could hear when someone entered or knocked. I had the studio door closed and the heaters kicked on (it was a cold night) and was just enjoying the intimate studio time. I sat down with the phone in my right ear (which to the right is the door to the studio) and to the left of me was the wall with turn tables. I sat back and was talking when out of nowhere, in my left ear, someone loudly whispered "Michael".

First, no one calls me Michael. Management at the radio station and at Sonitrol don't call me Michael. Only one person calls me Michael, and that's Ivette. I didn't know Ivette at the time.

I froze.

I sat there with about 10 minutes of dead air and James nearly calling the cops to see if I was ok. When I was able to talk again, I told him what happened and he dismissed it by saying it was the song I was listening to.

Lyrics? On a Kenny G song?

Well, after telling management about this, they moved me to my final position at the radio station. I had the weekend job of 11am - 3pm. I loved this shift. Especially on Sundays, I was alone. This didn't mean that I truly was alone. During this shift I heard a lot of the noises from the overnights. I heard the bumps, the creaks, the moans (yes moans) and more importantly, the footsteps upstairs. If anyone has ever stayed in or been in an old house of said vintage, they know that you can hear people walking up stairs clearly. Soft padded flooring or not, you could hear footsteps during the daytime and at night.

After investigating many times the sounds of the mysterious walking person upstairs, I retreated to the studio to voice another commercial break. I gingerly walked down the stairs, entered the studio, closed the door, placed my headphones on & turned on the studio microphone. I gathered the papers together on the Plexiglas message board so I could announce who was coming up next when out of the corner of my eye, someone came from the entrance area, stopped at the window to my right, stared at me for a moment, then turned around and walked halfway up the stairs before disappearing before he hit the landing.

Freaked doesn't begin to describe that feeling. I saw that my music stopped well over a minute ago, so still in shock, I just replayed the same song one more time. I left the studio door open from that point forward. I marked the last day of my radio career at 89.5FM KXCR rather uneventfully. I had then accepted the job at Western Playland Amusement Park, so I was onto other (paid) gigs.

Tomorrow, I will recant the ghosts that walk the building of KTSM Television and others I have encountered.

Tis the season!

Whoa...

Weird, isn't it?

Good for him though.

PS, no, his hand wasn't on my ass.

White Sox Win the WTF of the Year award

Well, like the Boston Red Sox, the Chicago White Sox won their first World Series in like 80-some-odd years. How do you think they celebrate?


*click pic for story*

WHAT THE FUCK?

All I know is Ozzie Guillen on the left has realized the camera was there one second before the image was taken. Its obvious the guy on the right doesn't care.

Did I go too far?

Is there such thing as too far?

All I did was say what really annoyed me about weather coverage.

I am surprised friends of mine in the news media haven't commented on that.

Hurricanes & Reporters

Now, before you get all pissy and in my face I just want to say that when you read this, remember that I used to work in a news room as an assignments editor for the NBC affiliate in El Paso.

What the fuck is it with every news agency sending out their reporters to stand in the middle of a deadly-as-sin hurricane attempting to stand in (DUH) 100mph winds and rain that (when hitting a stationary object) feels like sharp needles piercing the skin with ever strike on the body?

I mean really people. Are we as a collective audience so fucking vapid that we don't have a fathomable idea what a penny flying at 100+ mph does to a plate glass window? Do we not know what a building roof does when it encounters a strong wind? I am watching FOX Newschannel and I am seeing some poor bastard standing outside their hotel, microphone in hand, windbreaker jacket being torn to rags and the rather heavy mic cord literally blown off the ground and is not helping this poor TV underling stand up to this wicked weather.

The cameraman isn't that far from danger either. Wielding a 50+ lb. camera, gear, and listening (in vain) to cues from a director -- usually hundreds of miles away from danger mind you, this poor guy has a blind spot where the camera rests on his shoulder. That 100mph flying penny striking the side of his skull will certainly cause him to wonder if he is paid enough to go through that shit. Which brings me to my point of rant.

Is this entertainment to us? It's news, not fucking entertainment! It could only be considered entertainment if the reporter on scene is some buxom bombshell wearing only a white t-shirt watching the fabric on her shirt become soaked and watching her head vibrate as the air that passes between her empty skull hits a terminal velocity and slowly makes her implants shake loose and fall to around her ankles.

You see, theres a difference between news and entertainment. News is reporting that the hurricane is hitting the city. Entertainment is watching the poor bastard try and stand up in the rain.

Just once, I would love to watch a noted TV anchor, reporter or TV personality who is stupid enough to listen to their director to stand out in one of these Cat. 3 - 5 hurricanes and -- live on TV, get some sort of flying debris to strike them DEAD on live TV.

You heard me.

I want a nice chunk of street sign, some tree, or in a nice irony, a piece of tech equipment to just whip around and bean them good. If they're out by the ocean, maybe have a shot of the cameraman trying to pull the carcass of the recently deceased away from the encroaching tide.

Yes, I worked as an assignments editor. Yes I have had to send the reporter and cameraman out to fucked up locations for (at times) pointless video. I objected to it, but because it was what the director wanted, I complied.

As a viewer of television, I can tell you that I don't want to see a reporter (Geraldo OR Anderson Cooper) out in a hurricane reporting on the obvious.

Hmm, lets see. Hurricane = strong wind.

Ooooh, look! It's the eye of the hurricane! Lets go run outside, establish a link to someone who is being paid more to be safe and secure in a non-weather hit location and report on the devastation so far. Maybe we can get a look at the eye wall as it suddenly slams into the rest of whatever might have survived the initial onslaught and possibly dodge the bullet and run back inside the small alcove that served as a slight sanctuary from the first time.

Don't get me started on the spectators who stand out in the hurricane as well.

All it takes is the death of a beloved TV reporter to make sure all of the other TV producers keep from sending out their newsies. Maybe Sheppard Smith or Matt Lauer. Yeah, a brain-spattered beachfront condo would make one hell of a front page.

... Come on road sign...