Espiritu in the Land of Dixie

So...now where was I? Oh yes...terra firma forever. Let me flash forward to the first weekend in the land of cotton. No...I saw no actual cotton plants; but I did want to relay the appearance of a "ghostly" experience. You may have read some of my other ghost stories...so this is just another addition to that string of events.

What happened...might you be wondering? It started that Friday night, just 3 weeks ago it was.
In Charleston, you may sign up to go on various "ghost" tours of the city. This night, about 10 of us decided to go to the "haunted jail". This was actually a jail and prison constructed around 1790. It was used continuously until 1936. That is a very long time indeed. The tour started at 10pm. Although the jail was very interesting and creepy...I saw nothing out of the ordinary for the duration of the tour. I took some photos...but alas....no spirits made their presence known. I heard several loud bumps...but that was not extraordinary. In fact...besides the obvious scare attempts by the guide...nothing happened at all.

Well, by 11pm...the tour was over. Other participants left by cars parked nearby...while the group I was in walked in the general location of the last known place we had parked our cars. About a block, or so, from the jail and about a half hour later...it was decided that half the group would find the cars...while the others would stay. I stayed...and along with the other 4 persons...we chatted and waited for the return of our comrades. Adjacent to our location was a very old, but well kept, elongated house...at least as old as the civil war years...if not older. It was blue and on the end facing us...were 4 white wooden shutters...all in row. As it so happened...I was relating one of my ghost stories to the group when one of the ladies commented suddenly...."look, there is a women in the window". Upon this, I looked up and lo and behold...there indeed stood a young woman at the window. Now mind you...it was nearly 12pm now and the tour had been over for quite some time. The old house had no lights on, yet the figure stood out with amazing clarity. She was definately young...perhaps late teens, or early twenties. Her hair was long and flowing...past her shoulders. She was very beautiful indeed. A true southern belle. Had this been all...then a passing reference would be all I could say. But this was no ordinary woman. For you see...her hair, face and body were of one color...ghostly white with a washed out look. She appeared to be naked as well...no textiles did I see adorning her. As we all stared up...not one word did she utter. Several attempts by us were made to communicate with this entity...if you will...but to no avail. She just stood and looked upon us...nary a spoken word, nor expressive gesture...save one. At this time, she appeared to raise her left hand in a fist and made slow and deliberate circles with it. To what end...I do not know. At about this time...the cars for which we waited, had returned...and of which I exclaimed to her the event. As suddenly as she had appeared, so now was she gone and the shutter sealed once more.

And so it was that night...the bonus feature saw by 5 souls on a dark and lonely street...in the city of Charleston...in the land of Dixie. Was this a ghost...I cannot answer that; but I can say for certain that 5 people all saw the same thing...at the same time...and in the same manner. Ironically...my digital camera stopped working just as we finished the old jail tour. But isn't that how these things always go? Proof is almost always lacking...but isn't that what makes the uncertainties in life more adventurous? How dull and mundane would life be if chance was eliminated from the game? For the small group that night...at least for a moment in time...we experienced an adventure shared by few others. Real or imagined...it will always be a link in our common lives...brief as it was. It will remain a part of us until the end of our days.

From the bottom of the Pit.

The first day of spring has come...and only now do I get around to my blog. It has been awhile...and I have been negligent on posting. I am surprised that they "blogger" will allow so much idle time to pass without activity. It's good that they do...as I am sure many would be closed by now.

I think I about ready for another update in my saga...my biography if you will. The first 3 were written in 2005...and a few things have happened since then. I do remember updating from that little trip I took to Florence, Arizona last year. Well, as fate would have it...I just returned from a 3 week training course in Charleston, South Carolina. If you have never been to this place...you should. It is a medium sized southern city...for which the Civil War never really ended. References to the old Confederacy abound and the numerous memorials are constant reminders that this region serves under the Stars and Stripes as a conquered nation. Recriminations aside; Charleston is full of history and tradition. I found the people to be freindly and charming. The city center was well kept and quite clean. By comparison, North Charleston was the antithesis to this. It seemed comparable to many of the run down burgs I see in Los Angeles on a daily basis.
Crime, graffiti and drugs seem to be the the order of the day. There seems to be a clear deliniation of class and race in the greater Charleston area. Mostly white and affluent in the city and souther suburbs...yet mostly poor and black in North Charleston. This class segregation is hard to miss. I guess some things just never change.

Anyway...back to my story. First...the flight from LA to Houston was harrowing. Thunderstorms were active in Houston, so the airplane was held in a circular pattern for nearly an hour. It was at this time that a older man had suffered what appeared to be a heart attack. The flight attendants were running to an fro...attempting to help the victim. Several retired doctors on board were called upon to assist. The storm was pitching the plane about and passengers were getting edging...including myself. I guess the judgement was that the man may not make it if we delayed the landing further. So down we went into the abyss of wind, rain and thunder. The aircraft rocked and heaved against the violence of the storm. It took over an hour to finally touch down...and the solid terra firma never looked so good. It almost made me swear off flying for good. But...it wasn't quite over yet. Unfortunately...since the flight was delayed...they gave away the nice big 757 to some other aircrew. We ended up with the replacement...and what a disappointment. Anytime you are asked to board your plane by walking out to the tarmac...it can't be a good thing.

So there it sat...a tiny little puddle jumper...by 757 standards anyway!
At least it wasn't a prop drive death machine. I think it held about 15 people. I guess the captain decided he could make it out between 2 thunderstorms. He was wrong! We got caught in the second one on the ascent...help...was all I could think of. As bad as the 757 was in landing...this little orphan maker was triple the white knuckle trip talking off. Never have I heard so much snapping, popping, groaning and creaking before. With every wild pitch, the poor little craft would seemingly cry with agony. We finally were able to outrun the storm...halfway to Charleston. Now I really wanted to swear off flying for good. I had the "good" fortune to see this same storm again...the very next day...with a tornado watch thrown in to boot.

Well...I still have some more to go on this tome...but I have to go for now. I hope to continue later this evening...as time permits.