So we finally take a long awaited and much deserved vacation. Well, more of a long weekend, but it's the first we've had since our 'mini-moon' (our overnight honeymoon until we can afford the real thing) and beggars can't be choosers, right? So, off we headed to Columbus, Ohio, for the Midwest Haunter's Convention. (Huh???)
Allow me to explain.
My husband is a complete Halloween addict who loves anything in ANY way related to Halloween (which is why we own and operate a haunted house), and my daughter is almost as bad as he is. She is a budding make-up artist who jumps at every opportunity to utilize and improve her skills. This particular convention offered any number of make-up classes, not to mention an opportunity to meet and speak with some of the season two Face Off cast members, a dream come true for her. Needless to say, Christmas had come as far as the two of them were concerned. And as for me. Well…
As for me, I'm a writer. Surely this particular venue had to provide an endless supply of subject matter, right? Right? Right…
Okay, for me truly it was more of an opportunity to get away for a bit and relax.
Relax? Really? What was I thinking? How can you possibly relax when everywhere you turn there are evil clowns lurking, or man-eating zombie rabbits rabid for brains, brains, brains! or evil demons fresh from the seventh level of hell, or, well you get the picture.
So anyway, there I was, along for the ride, and not sure what I was walking (er, driving) into. Well, let me tell you in as quick a format as I am capable of. (I know; there is no hope for that.)
A quick comparison of my last two trips; the first (a working trip) to Atlanta, Georgia, and the second (as it turns out, another working trip) to Columbus,Ohio:
Georgia: Upon landing at the airport we were accosted by a limo driver who drove us to our hotel forty minutes away in a Lincoln Town car ($50).
Ohio: Upon arriving at the hotel we were accosted by a homeless man who deluged us with TMI (too much information) regarding his various illnesses and dialysis (this was a show and tell event that included the startling exhibition of several of his surgical scars) leaving him incapable of working. So he sells 'newspapers' for a living- a two page print from the homeless press ($1).
Georgia: In front of the hotel we were greeted by a man carrying a plastic grocery bag, who walked up and began passing out $100 bills to us and everyone else in the area. (Turned out the money was real.)
Ohio: In front of the hotel we were greeted by a crazed man screaming nonsensical words and epithets to the vehicular and human traffic around him. Also the trees, shrubbery and various insects (or invisible people) around him.
Georgia: We walked through the sunshine to a local restaurant for lunch.
Ohio: We headed to the food court for lunch, but were stopped along the way by a man who greeted us with the words, "My beautiful, fellow Americans, would you be so kind as to help a man who is four seventy-five short for his cab fare?" Hmmmm. When did we leave the country? We're still in Ohio, right? How difficult is it to stumble upon 'fellow Americans' in OHIO?
At this point it was decided that the next person who staggered up to us asking for money, my daughter and I were to stand there looking confused, while my husband rambled at them in Polish. Mind you, the only Polish my husband knows is what his former journeyman taught him; a vast array of dirty words and highly imaginative curses. He can accurately tell you shockingly vivid things to do with various body parts, but he can't give you directions to the nearest gas station. But really, how many people in Ohio are fluent in Polish? Turns out, there was one…
Somehow, we managed to make it to the lobby to check in with at least a few dollars left in our pockets, and headed up to our rooms.
My daughter was ecstatic upon entering her room: a corner room with a king size bed and huge bathroom. Windows lined two walls of both the room and the bathroom, exhibiting a breathtaking view of the skyscraping buildings surrounding the hotel. She was in heaven. (The next day she claimed to have spent half the night doing the back-stroke on her bed.)
My husband and I were not so lucky. Our room was far less glamorous. We lucked into two double beds, a much smaller bathroom, and one wall with windows displaying the construction going on next door. Every morning I had a first rate view of the cranes lifting the Port-o-pots onto the roof next door. Awesome.
Needless to say, she took pictures.
I did not.
There was so much going on and so many things happening, that I will warn you this is a topic I will probably return to in the future, but for the time being I will only add the following thought. Various conventions run at this convention center/hotel back to back. One of the activities following the haunter's convention was a pageant. Think little girls, big hair, fake teeth, and lots of make-up. Now that I think about it, not a far cry from the haunter's convention… Just different types of scary. (Don't even get me started on these things.) The same night as the masquerade ball (where all the monsters come out to dance), there was a bridal shower.
I began to put myself in the place of these, for lack of a better term, 'straight-laced' people. Imagine being the bride to be, whose only intent is to whoop it up with her besties at a very expensive, no doubt exclusive, party being held in your honor. On the way to said party, you pass countless demons, monsters, zombies, and ghosts in the halls, elevators, lobbies. You can't get away from them. Is this a good sign or a bad one?
All I can say is, I was one of the dead the bride to be ran into. And my husband and I have made the bride's bridal shower album. By request of her mother, I posed with the bride (dressed in a wedding type gown while my skin peeled off my face revealing open wounds- remember my daughter the budding make-up artist). I also showed the bride the 'rope burns' where I 'hung' myself and couldn't help but to remind her she was the before the wedding shot and I was the after.
As for the pageant people, I don’t particularly care what they were thinking. Those kids have a lot of therapy in front of them, and I doubt any of it will stem from the monsters in the hallway.
Or the blood in the elevators.
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