So yesterday evening I was sitting in a haunted hotel in Bisbee, Arizona, digesting a fabulous five-star restaurant meal and preparing to head out to the patio to kill a bottle of Grenache Noir with Dad, Interrupted while he smoked a cigar.
I’ll let that sink in a bit, as there are about five different bizarre elements to absorb.
First off, we did not see any ghosts at the Bisbee Grand Hotel, though many have reported that if you stay in the Victorian suite you may wake up in the middle of the night to see a woman standing at the foot of the bed. The Garden Suite, where we stayed, did not produce any spectres but I slept with the bathroom light on.
That fabulous meal was courtesy of the Cafe Roka, just down the street. I had the tart.
The Grenache Noir was courtesy of the Flying Leap vineyards.
The earthquake was courtesy of a little fault near Lourdsburg, New Mexico, and it was the first one I’ve ever encountered. Have you ever been in a building when a train came speeding past, right next to you? It even sounded like a train was barreling past us. The china teapots on the mantel on the fireplace in our room shook and shimmied, and it lasted for almost ten seconds.
Bisbee itself is a former mining town that has now gone over to the art side. As one t-shirt put it, it’s “Mayberry on Acid.”
The entire weekend getaway was courtesy of Dad, Interrupted and his desire to escape the remodeling. It was a nice little diversion, capped off with breakfast with one of the Daughters, Interrupted in Tucson on our way home, but we’re now back in the dust.
© E. Stocking Evans 2014
Mom, Interrupted 