Yes, boys and girls, another grisly, nightmarish tale of
witches, warlocks, death and dismemberment or as I call it, vacationing with
the family. So sit back, relax, pour
yourself a drink, pop some corn or clip your toenails (but not at the same
time) and revel in the tale I call:
American
Horror Story: The Griswolds return to
Salem
September
2014
The GOOD:
Unlike driving through apocalyptic storms we faced in
the past, this trip had perfect weather both ways. The wedding was a class event with great
food/drink/celebration. They even gave
the kids in attendance those little
battery operated glow sticks that flash different colors And best of ALL, I got to spend a lot of time
with my two princesses, Di and Ri-Ri.
The BAD:
We all face bad drivers every day. There are people who
drive with their heads so far up their ass, they look like they are wearing a
brown turtleneck. The ones in New York
were horrible, in Mass even worse. That
includes the one with the license plate “Silver Fox”. This spawn of Nosferatu and a Q-tip couldn’t
make her mind up if she should merge into 70MPH traffic or just sit motionless
in the right lane like she was waiting for a second helping of jello.
It is un-Christian and bad karma to wish any serious
harm on bad drivers. But wishing them a
quick episode of explosive diarrhea while wearing something white or khaki
would certainly scratch my itch.
While attempting to negotiate a treacherous stretch of
road from Boston into Salem, I received a call from a woman confirming my
reservations and to tell me that, due to construction, there is virtually no
place to park. My car is not only loaded
down with Joanne and my stuff, but a lot of things for Mandy/Sean/Shannon and
the kids. I’m tired, cranky, stressed
out from driving (thank you Silver Fox et al) and in dire need of a drink. I snapped at the woman, “where the hell am I
going to unload all my stuff?”…A silence and in a very sweet voice she said, “how
much stuff do you need to unload to EAT DINNER?”….Whoops!, dinner confirmation,
not hotel.
The UGLY:
We finally arrive at the Hawthorne Hotel in Salem. I immediately see a “Sasquatch-type” young
man dressed in all black skulking around the arriving guests
“tip-grubbing”. A tip grubber is someone
who acts like they are helping you with luggage but really are not, yet stand
around for that awkward moment with their hand out. I obliged him two bright shiny quarters and
in his eyes I could see that explosive diarrhea was in my future. Note to self:
wear nothing white or khaki.
Should have given him some Jack-O-Links jerky.
The hotel is old, kitchy and historical along with the
requisite, haunted. This means an old
building that charges you a lot for everything (example: mixed well drink at
bar cost: $8-$10). We get into our room and I must say, the bed was large and
looked comfortable (it was), there was a sofa couch, several end tables and a
large desk and armoire with a flat screen.
All very nice. Two walk-in closets only added to my pleasant
satisfaction. A lot of driving with
minimal stops had my bladder on the verge of bursting and I opened the bathroom
door.
In a perverse way, I had always wondered what Bilbo and
Frodo’s bathroom looked like in their home in the Shire. And now, here it was in front of me. There was a separate toilet, sink and shower
but due to the Liliputian size of the room, it seemed like all three were
morphed together into some type of hybrid bathroom appliance. With supreme effort, I could contort my body
into fitting on the crapper, only to crack my coconut on the wall moulding as I
attempted to stand. I know, I know,
“petite” is never a word anyone would used to describe me, but the concept of
“shit, shower and shave” took on a whole new meaning. All I had to do was change the angle of my
ass to accomplish all three. The hobbit
toilet looked like it might be industrial strength but alas, it could not
handle the waste deposits of normal size folk with a single flush.
What vacation would be complete without the required
“Bataan death marches”. This time, Salem
style, pushing my princesses in strollers up and down the hills of
witch/ghosts/monster attractions that make up the landscape of Salem. I also saw the ubiquitous “Sasquatch-valet”
from the hotel. He was apparently
moonlighting by pimping some of these other tourist attraction tours and no
doubt, tip grubbing. I had to turn the
other way when I felt a gas build up in my stomach. I am now convinced that this guy is a
community “familiar” for the coven of witches in the town.
Crazy note: The
community has been upset for a few years over a statue that was erected of
Elizabeth Montgomery,she of the “Bewitched” fame. The TV show, not the grotesque movie
abomination starring Will Ferell and Nicole Kidman. The town felt that the statue made light of
the history of Salem. I get it. The last thing I would want to do is insult
the millions and millions of dollars this town made in tourism based on the
murder of 18(?) people including an innocent man, and innocent women and
children. Witch Darren is witch?
I chose to watch the kids as opposed to participating in
the wedding reception. This allowed mom,
dad and grandma to enjoy themselves some.
My youngest, Shannon, helped due to her not feeling well. Upon going to bed that night, I was somewhat
surprised as to the lack of “spooky or supernatural” occurrences at the
hotel. I drifted off to sleep and was
immediately awoken by an ethereal, ghostly light right above my bed. It seem to pulsate and change color. I was so startled; I immediately awoke Joanne
and Shannon (who had claimed dibs on the sofa bed). They both witnessed this phenomenon and were
visibly shaken. It then appeared that the source of this was coming from the
floor behind our bed. Both Shannon and I
tried in vain to reach behind the anchored hotel bed, but like the bathroom, my
somewhat “gator-like arms” were too short to reach. I kept trying and trying to reach, squeezing
as tight as I could, huffing and puffing to a crescendo to reach this
mysterious light source. I could feel
tremendous pressure building in my stomach as I kept trying to reach and then
FINALLY, arm got stuck, stomach pressure released and redirected toflatulence
with fluid drive. Thank God I wasn’t
wearing white or khaki. By the way, the
mysterious light source: the flashing
light stick one of the kids left behind.
Damn witches……………………..
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