Whenever I travel, I hope to connect with local spirits. Sometimes it is planned. Other times, the spirits find me.
Recently, I had the opportunity to travel to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. It was a bit of whirlwind trip, but like many of you, I try to make the most out of any chance to explore.
Our trip started in Manteo, North Carolina. We booked a haunted hotel. We took a ghost tour. We visited a potentially haunted restaurant. The stories were vibrant. The ghost guide (shout out to Miss Julia!) was fantastic. The hotel was lovely. The ghosts were…shy. I’m not offended, not every ghost is going to want to say hi. We moved along.
Two days later, we found ourselves in the city of Wilmington, NC. As a teen drama enthusiast, it piqued my interest for its connection to shows that launched careers of many a 90’s and early aughts actor. We stayed in a modern hotel. We strolled the riverwalk. We took a sunset cruise on a riverboat (shout out to Captain in Training Mike- You did so well!). We were not looking for ghosts, just for good times.
Wilmington boasts a pub with a bevy of brews. It is two floors of serve-yourself micro-brews. As a non-drinker, I was along for the ride. My husband is micro-brew connoisseur and was thrilled. We pushed through the heavy door into a vaulted ceiling, older building and were the only customers. It was mid-day during the week, so we weren’t entirely surprised.
The friendly bartender welcomed us in, checked ID’s (haha, we are middle aged…Thank you for pretending it was needed), and explained how to use the id bracelet that would unleash the power of the pours. She directed us to the second floor, where the beers of my husband’s dreams awaited.
He puttered around and read off brewery names from near and far, finally selecting a sample of his first choice. We sat on a comfy couch and looked over the building. It was a lovely space with interesting, Art Deco design mixed with an old mill vibe. What was this place?
Suddenly lights dimmed briefly. It was barely noticeable. We chatted, he pondered his next selection, and made his way over to the taps just as our bartender trotted up the stairs.
“So, this never happens, but, um, we just lost electricity in half the building. I have electricians on the way, but I don’t know if the system will work.” The digital screens above the taps were black. Nope, probably not.
“You can hang out and finish what you have, no hurry, but I don’t know when things will come back up. This has never happened,” she assured us.
“It’s not the ghosts,” she said, “just a power thing.”
“I wish it were ghosts,” I laughed. She did not. She looked serious.
“I’m going to get the electrician settled, then I’ll be back. I have a story to tell you,” and off she dashed.
My husband and I blinked at one another. How does this always happen to us?
She was back before long, settled herself in, and shared the history of the building. It had been a market, a store house, and an old bank before becoming a brew pub. Workers learned quickly that the past was lingering and some of it was downright active.
In the basement, it was frequent to hear boxes moving around, sliding across floors. On the main floor, things would be snatched from bartender and patron’s hands alike. A pint glass would be tugged away for no reason, not a drunken fumble but a paranormal interception.
Upstairs, where we were seated, was the most active area. The secondary staircase is locked on one side, accessible only for emergencies. More than once, guests inside the establishment hear frantic banging on the door and observe the handle jerking and shaking. They open the door and find a completely empty stairwell. Beyond the main room was a short hallway with the restrooms just to the right, and beyond that was a game room. Noises are frequently heard from the game room. Games come to life all on their own. The pinball machine notoriously plays itself.
She went on to say her most intense experience happened when she was closing up. No one likes to close and no one likes to go to the second floor after hours. She was sweeping up, having cleaned out the bathroom already. When they finish mopping the bathrooms, they leave the tall, heavy trash bins in the doorway to keep the doors open and allow circulation so the floors will dry quickly. As she was sweeping, she watched a bin come flying out, slide straight five feet before turning at a right angle and coming toward her. The bin proceeded about 12 feet before abruptly stopping its journey.
We were gap mouthed. “Can you show us?” I asked. She hopped right up and showed us the trash cans. They were typical, industrial bins about 4 and a ½ feet high with heavy tops. I jiggled one. It did not move.
“The force to move something this big is not just the weight of a door,” I observed.
“It isn’t,” she agreed, “And physics says it could not make that turn, then go even further.”
“What did you do?” we asked.
“I told it ‘I don’t want to mess with you and I don’t want you to mess with me. Let’s be respectful, okay?’ and it hasn’t bothered with me since then.”
“Does anyone else have problems up here still?”
“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “People get locked in the bathroom all the time. You can’t leave until it is ready for you to go.”
She had to go help the workmen at that point, so we took our time exploring and observing the space. I had no paranormal tools with me aside from an EVP app on my phone. It caught a few words (help me, I’m watching you, why are you here, its dark), though I’m a little skeptical of those apps and feel like those phrases could be applied to any haunted location.
Did we encounter something haunted? I’m not sure. Maybe the electrical malfunction was the ghosts hoping she would tell us her story. If that’s the case, I owe them a beer! I’m so glad she did.
