American Horror Story: Haute-d Hotel

Did you know that if you die at a hotel, the hotel has to spend thousands of dollars to replace the entire bed, bedding, and any other interiors which you befouled whilst saying eff you to this earthly realm?

It does make sense that most discerning (and non-discerning) travelers wouldn’t want to sleep on the same Peacock Alley pillow where someone else took their last breath.

But this wasn’t something I’d ever really taken the time to think through, until my friend (who works for one of LA’s top hotels) told me about how he was recently forced to spontaneously sleep in a hotel room where someone had just died, when an event he was managing ran late and there were no other vacancies at his hotel. Since the bed was being replaced post-mortem, he was made to snooze on a cot in the corner.

While he was most annoyed about the quality of his camp bed, I would’ve been far more concerned about lingering earthbound spirits.

prehaun

[In my room yesterday afternoon, prior to any ~paranormal activity~]

I’m not particularly religious, but I am ~spiritual~, and I do think that the energies which we have now don’t just completely disappear when we pass on. If you’re into ghost lore, you know that most spirits chose to “cross over”/”pass on”/”enter the light”, etc. but some opt to stay here, and they are usually malevolent and/or restless.

That’s a whole bunch of BYE! to me, and could almost prompt me to purchase holy water on the reg, like my mom does. #fatima #lourdes #scurred

Luckily, most of the time I sleep like an obese, milk-drunk infant at hotels, and have no need for religious talismans. But, a few nights have been creepy AF, such as the time where I felt really bad energy in Morocco and couldn’t sleep at all or when like 50 people from my old company all had paranormal experiences at the Millennium Biltmore in LA, to the point that some were paying for a second hotel or all sleeping together in one room (I felt fine until the last night of my stay, when I had a weird dream and felt like something walked past the bed).

Last night at the Beverly Hilton was probably my most uncomfortable evening that I’ve experienced personally as a traveler. To be fair, it all may have all been a symptom of exhaustion. I worked about 16 hours, until 10:30PM PST or so, and then killed it for 75 minutes at the fitness center after my meetings wrapped up.

viewssss

[View from my room at the Beverly Hilton]

The fitness center is in the bowels of the hotel and I could barely get any service there. No one was around, except for some cleaning staff, as it was past midnight.

<Bear with me here if you are an irritatingly analytical atheist who majored in physics at MIT, and judges people who use the unicorn emoji.>

The Beverly Hilton is one of LA’s most historic hotels. It is where the Golden Globes are held every year, and most of Old Hollywood stayed there at one point or another. All around the hotel are photos and memorabilia related to aged Tinseltown royalty.

After my work out, I was walking around the area near the gym, where there was a ton of old movie memorabilia. Most of it was tied to Mary Pickford and some random Western movie. There was also a Marilyn Monroe picture. I do believe that objects have history and can absorb major events and energies which surround them, whether they be good or bad.

But, I wasn’t even thinking about energies or ghosts at all. Instead, I was thinking about how tired AF I am and how I couldn’t wait to pass out. Pretty sure my inner monologue was something like, If I pass out from pure exhaustion and have to go to the hospital like Kendall Jenner, would that be chic or no? Could I get fired for that? Does my health insurance cover that? Maybe I should just book a spa treatment…

That’s why it was odd when my signature, self-absorbed mental banter was jarringly interrupted by some unprecedented, weird energy emanating from these movie objects. I was not feeling positive things about them, and I began to feel a little unsettled.

I kept walking and checked out the pool area for a few minutes, and then headed back to my room, which overlooked the pool. I couldn’t fall asleep for awhile.

When I finally did, I was having a terrible nightmare that someone vulnerable, like a child, was strangling me in my bed and I hesitated to fight back, because they were a child. But then realized that they had the upper hand and would stop at nothing to hurt me, but it was already too late. I woke up obviously upset, and still feeling an eerie feeling.

Why couldn’t I have a sex dream about Leonardo di Caprio and Drake, like a normal person?

I then did what one should logically do in this type of situation circa 3AM, which is to Google phrases such as “deaths at Beverly Hilton” and “haunted Beverly Hills hotels”.

Oh, this is where Whitney Houston drowned in the bathtub. Well, luckily they didn’t put me up in that suite.

I also discovered that the spirit of Marilyn Monroe was also reported to lurk about, as urban legend suggests that she may have had a fight with RFK at the Beverly Hilton, which could’ve served as the catalyst for her untimely death. But that is just conjecture and rumores. Or is it?

Might the spirit of MM have felt a kindred bond to me, a fellow buxom blonde with a penchant for dating unstable narcissists?

But if so, why would she send me night terrors, instead of using me as a conduit to channel more inspirational quotes for girls on Instagram to utilize as captions?

mm

[Us in happier times, at the Universal Studios Hilton]

I joke, but it was hard for me to fall asleep again. When I finally did, I had ANOTHER nightmare.

This time I thought I woke up in the dream, but it wasn’t real. I was awoken in my fake dream by all of these angelic yet slightly creepy voices emanating from the clock/radio. What a weird alarm, I thought as I rolled over to turn it off. When I sat up, I realized there was a really fat male ghost sitting on my legs and pinning me down to the bed. He was about to attack me, and there was no way I could push him off. I ran through every possible scenario of bad things he could do to me, and felt terrified.

I finally woke up for real then, covered in sweat and visibly upset, to see that it was only 5:30AM. Fortunately no ghosts were suffocating me in real life, but I didn’t really go back to sleep. I answered work emails and grabbed snatches of sleep here and there for 30 minutes or so, before fully waking up to head to LAX.

So, is the Beverly Hilton haunted? Probably not, but maybe. I doubt I would voluntarily stay there again.

Have you ever had a ~ghost adventure~? Should I buy Voss brand holy water? Should I go to a therapist who specializes in dream psychoanalysis? Or should I just get a silk peel facial and chill?

Leave a comment, or I’ll send Caspar after you. Xoxox

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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