G-g-g-ghosts?!!!

At least from my own experience, trying to get a standby seat on a direct flight from Newark to Los Angeles is a near impossibility. Out of the previous five times I have been in New Jersey visiting Nicole, I have ended up in the jumpseat five times. . . including one time where I had previously been awarded an economy-plus seat only to have the plane grounded for maintenance just after it pushed from the gate. Anyway, Nicole found herself in New Jersey once again, and knew that I was going to be overnight in San Antonio, Texas. She felt her odds were good if she met me there and then flew with me back to LAX the next day.

The hotel we stay in is well-located on the San Antonio riverwalk, but is apparently haunted. Now, most of the time, such a claim wouldn't faze me, and I have stayed at this hotel multiple times without giving it much thought.

The hotel is over 100 years old and has changed hands a few times, and is now the Sheraton Gunter Hotel. San Antonio itself has a lot of history, so I feel like there is a lot of, "Ah, this place is old, therefore it's haunted!" There are stories of ghosts of Alamo fighters, the spirits of 1920s flappers, and just about everything in between. I consider myself to have a healthy dose of skepticism about such stories, but then I made the mistake of reading the background of why people believe the Gunter is haunted.

Back in the 1960s, some guy checked in to the hotel, brought in a woman of unknown profession, and then murdered her with a knife, butchered her, and tried to dispose of the body by flushing it down the toilet and down the drain of the bathtub. It was the bloodiest, most gruesome murder San Antonio had ever seen. Since then, guests and staff alike have reported seeing a woman roaming the halls and other strange happenings.

This all took place in room 636, and I recounted this story to Nicole before she arrived so that she could mentally prepare herself for all kinds of paranormal activities. Room 636 was her first destination upon arrival at the hotel. She reported back that she saw, felt, or heard nothing. Phew. I don't need any ghosts following me back to my room. Nobody has time for that. I can't sleep with someone watching me.

Miraculously we made it through the night and the only thing that disturbed my sleep was a very noisy air-conditioning unit that kept going on and off. Ghosts? º_º

When we woke up, we sought out some breakfast. It must be the end of tourist season because the riverwalk was absolutely desolate. Ghosts? We ended up eating breakfast at La Panaderia, and spent a few minutes looking at the numerous selections of fancy baked goods.

I settled on a cheesecake-flavored pastry as well as this key-lime cruffin. What is a cruffin you ask? Why it is a hybrid croissant-muffin. The worker behind the counter described it as "stupidly good." I feel like that is a fairly accurate assessment. It is an item that shouldn't even exist, yet it was delightful.

Afterward, we strolled along the river, and although the central area of the riverwalk was quite empty itself, we wandered away from the restaurants and bars to find a calmer, quieter portion to walk along. It was very relaxing and a nice change of pace from the times I have been here and frustratingly wondered how many people get pushed into the river every day.

After reversing our course on the opposite side of the river, we walked up to the Alamo to find some shade in the courtyard under a pecan tree. Some birds had decided that they also liked the pecan tree and kept pecking at the branches. Every few seconds, a nut would come crashing down nearby. We felt it was only a matter of time before one hit us on the head, yet miraculously it never happened. Ghosts?

Nicole bought a souvenir pin in the shape of a bottle of BBQ sauce from the Alamo gift shop, then we walked back to the haunted Gunter Hotel.

All in all, I think we made it out of there without being followed, but who can know for sure?

When Nicole tried to check in for her flight online, it said there was no record of the booking or that perhaps she had booked a paper ticket. Paper tickets? What is this 1992? Strange happenings, indeed.

Inside the Bo-Zone

As a result of my new-found ability to bid for schedules I want AND actually get what I ask for, I have not been doing a lot of multi-day trips, and thus no overnights. I have not had an overnight in months. Months, I tell you! Furthermore, any days off have been taken up with going to weddings, baby showers, bridal showers, dental appointments, etc. These would have been totes lame to blog about. Nevertheless, I have returned with an overnight in Belgrade . . . Montana! You see, I have a very early report time tomorrow, so we are just a short distance from the airport and rather than actually being in the much better-known Bozeman, we are in Belgrade. It is not exactly central to . . . anything.

This did not stop me from exploring Belgrade. I went for a walk through what I thought would be downtown Belgrade. I saw a street called "Main," and reckoned this would be real cute and have saloons and gambling halls and such. It did not. In fact, it was primarily grain elevators and warehouses. There were no sidewalks. I was the only pedestrian.

On Main Street, there was a place called the Madison River Brewing Company. It was actually kind of hidden among the other warehouses, but my keen vision aided me in my quest. I sampled two of their beers and I was able to enter the establishment without any records scratching and curious gazes. That being said, I was the only patron who was not part of the illustrious "Mug Club," where one has a permanent mug hanging on the wall. In spite of this, the service was friendly and my bill for two beers was a mere $7. Mmmmm Montana.

It is my hope that my photos have accurately captured the spirit of Belgrade. As this is Big Sky country, I really tried to showcase this fact. Can you see it? It is as big as they say. After the brewery, I made a stop for dinner at McDonalds and made my way past the graveyard of old farm vehicles and back to the Holiday Inn Express.













Later this month, I will have another overnight in San Antonio, but until then you will have to satisfy your cravings for Flyin' Brian with these pictures of beautiful Belgrade, Montana. And the worst part is that, despite being at a Holiday Inn Express, we will be leaving over an hour before they start serving breakfast. No cinnamon rolls! Sad face.