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Sep. 5th, 2006 02:32 pmI was invited on an urban exploration trip. An acquaintance's family (let's call this guy Steve) owned a ski lodge that also had a small amusement park in it, and he was going to take me and another acquaintance (Joe) up to poke around in it. I didn't really want to go, because it frightened me, but I didn't want to back out and look like a pussy, so I did.
As we drove up, we went through a town that had obviously been a major vacation resort at one time (probably the '60s), but hadn't been for at least a decade. We passed by lodges, cabins, novelty restaurants, and other buildings that were all falling down and abandoned. I saw an ice cream stand shaped like a thatched cottage; the roof was falling off in patches. A restaurant with a fading painted sign that read "SMORGASBORD," consisting of a low main building flanked by two windmills; the windmills were both tilted to the left at alarming angles. The dread this all inspired in me must have been apparent on my face, because Joe leaned forward from the backseat to ask if I was alright. Just then I looked up the mountain on the right-hand side of the road and saw a bunch of poles for a ski-lift and a big bright-blue building at the top of the hill. "That's it!" said Steve. "The main buildings are up here on the left."
We pulled into a parking lot. There was the framework for a large sign and a bunch of flower-pots on the verge, but the plants were dead and brown and the sign itself was gone. The main building was constructed mostly of glass windows. Inside we saw children playing. "Crap," Steve said, "my family's here. They must have decided to come out and clean the place up."
Just inside the doors there was a large open space with a concrete floor. There was a circle demarcated in the center. "There used to be a carousel here," explained Steve. Indeed, there were still a couple of carousel animals lying loose in it, along with other old amusement toys. The back wall had a couple of windows to what must have been a snack booth and a cashier for tickets, and a wide door to progress further into the complex. Steve's aunt came forth.
"Oh, hello! I'm glad you're here. We didn't think to bring the truck, and your uncle wants to go out back and take a look at the equipment." We went through the door. There was a small lobby for tiny children to play in, with a wooden structure that might have been a shoe-cubby or might have been for climbing on; a little kid was playing there, apparently Steve's cousin and oblivious to all the world. The entry to the snack booth was missing its door, but was blocked off with a gigantic stack of chairs. The booth itself was apparently untouched from the last time the place was in operation; a cabinet door was agape, and through it one could glimpse a huge stack of very old popcorn bags.
We met Steve's uncle, a large man in a plaid shirt and a massive mustache. "Let's take your truck out back," he said. "I think we've got an infestation, and I want to get rid of it before it eats the buildings out."
We started by going out the back door and marching through some tall grass, abuzz with horseflies. One of them landed on me, and I jumped - and awoke.
As we drove up, we went through a town that had obviously been a major vacation resort at one time (probably the '60s), but hadn't been for at least a decade. We passed by lodges, cabins, novelty restaurants, and other buildings that were all falling down and abandoned. I saw an ice cream stand shaped like a thatched cottage; the roof was falling off in patches. A restaurant with a fading painted sign that read "SMORGASBORD," consisting of a low main building flanked by two windmills; the windmills were both tilted to the left at alarming angles. The dread this all inspired in me must have been apparent on my face, because Joe leaned forward from the backseat to ask if I was alright. Just then I looked up the mountain on the right-hand side of the road and saw a bunch of poles for a ski-lift and a big bright-blue building at the top of the hill. "That's it!" said Steve. "The main buildings are up here on the left."
We pulled into a parking lot. There was the framework for a large sign and a bunch of flower-pots on the verge, but the plants were dead and brown and the sign itself was gone. The main building was constructed mostly of glass windows. Inside we saw children playing. "Crap," Steve said, "my family's here. They must have decided to come out and clean the place up."
Just inside the doors there was a large open space with a concrete floor. There was a circle demarcated in the center. "There used to be a carousel here," explained Steve. Indeed, there were still a couple of carousel animals lying loose in it, along with other old amusement toys. The back wall had a couple of windows to what must have been a snack booth and a cashier for tickets, and a wide door to progress further into the complex. Steve's aunt came forth.
"Oh, hello! I'm glad you're here. We didn't think to bring the truck, and your uncle wants to go out back and take a look at the equipment." We went through the door. There was a small lobby for tiny children to play in, with a wooden structure that might have been a shoe-cubby or might have been for climbing on; a little kid was playing there, apparently Steve's cousin and oblivious to all the world. The entry to the snack booth was missing its door, but was blocked off with a gigantic stack of chairs. The booth itself was apparently untouched from the last time the place was in operation; a cabinet door was agape, and through it one could glimpse a huge stack of very old popcorn bags.
We met Steve's uncle, a large man in a plaid shirt and a massive mustache. "Let's take your truck out back," he said. "I think we've got an infestation, and I want to get rid of it before it eats the buildings out."
We started by going out the back door and marching through some tall grass, abuzz with horseflies. One of them landed on me, and I jumped - and awoke.
