Friday the 13th? It's Girls' Night!

The Good Ol’ Days

It’s the early 1980s, and you’ve been invited to a sleepover at a friend’s house. You and your girl-friends are camped out in the basement rec room, chattering and laughing and gossiping. The floor quickly becomes a mess of sleeping bags and junk food. (Someone invariably manages to spill the Doritos all over their pillow.) The parents are maybe upstairs, only occasionally calling out, “Hey, keep it down, down there!” You’re likely between 10 and 12 years old, in that liminal state between childhood and adolescence. Maybe there’s self-conscious talk of training bras and getting your period. (And you know to keep your bra ON the whole night, lest you find it stuffed into the freezer or dangling out the window the next morning.)

With the adults safely ensconced in the family room upstairs, your mind begins to move in mischievous ways. You and your friends are ready to walk that fine line between safe and low-key dangerous. Maybe someone suggests playing “Bloody Mary” in the bathroom mirror. The host girl says, “Hey, we have an Ouija board! Let’s try it!” However the evening unfolds, you’re ready to explore other liminal spaces beyond the limits of your own body. It’s all in good fun. There might be Monday morning debriefs with your friends at school, but then the night is largely forgotten. There are other, more important things to worry about, after all. Like cute boys and how to get their attention.

Life goes on.

The Now

Now you’re in your fifties or older. Maybe you’ve had to commute two+ hours from your job to get here. Maybe you’ve retired to a peaceful existence in the Ojai Valley and are just looking for something fun to do. Maybe you just need a respite from work and bills, from the news cycle and social media and shitty human beings. Whatever intrigued you about the idea of a girls-only “Paranormal Pajama Party,” you’re ready to shed the real world for a few hours and slip into your jim-jams.

The Glen Tavern Inn’s pajama party drew 8 or 9 women (final number TBD) from around Southern California. At least one was visiting the Inn for the first time. Dale accompanied me for happy hour before the festivities officially got underway, and we kicked back as everyone eased into the evening with aura photos/readings and table-side magic. (In a humorous “oops,” the magician had forgotten his decks of cards, so Dale directed him to the local superstore to buy new ones.) A few women asked rather self-consciously if they could go ahead and change into their pajamas. The Inn’s manager, Monica, asked if I wanted to do my aura photo. I did. She then emailed me a 15-page report explaining my aura and chakras. Food and drinks were flowing from Enzo’s Italian Restaurant. They were doing brisk business on this Valentine’s Day eve.

The Ghost Hunt*

In the meantime, the Inn’s paranormal director, Jeremy, was leading small groups up to Room 307 for paranormal investigations. It’s thought that at least 3 spirits inhabit that room — a man, a woman, and a little girl. Despite persistent folklore about a prostitute being beheaded and stuffed into the closet once upon a time, the closet seems to be, in Jeremy’s words, “pretty much dead.” (No pun intended.) It’s rare for anyone to get a “hit” (a possible paranormal reaction) in there. When I took my turn in the closet during the Halloween ghost hunt, it indeed felt like nothing more than an empty space.

Another woman, whom I’ll call “A,” and I were the last ones to investigate 307. Arrayed across the bed and table tops were several gadgets, including motion-sensitive lights, K2 meters (which pick up electromagnetic energy), a spirit box (which scans the FM spectrum at high speed and is thought to aid spirit communication), and a digital audio recorder. Despite plenty of activity with other groups earlier in the evening, the room’s energy had relaxed considerably. Jeremy asked if we had an intuitive sense of what to explore. I mentioned the supposed female energy. I set our dog, Ruby, on the floor while Jeremy, A, and I asked questions, listened for responses on the spirit box or on the digital recorder, and watched our K2 meters. Jeremy was intrigued by the prospect of investigating with a dog, as animals are supposedly sensitive to paranormal energies. But there was little, if any, activity. It was as if the human world were so exhausting that even the ghosts were knackered. Ruby nosed about the floor, unconcerned.

At one point, Jeremy asked the spirits if they knew the dog’s name. A soft response came through the spirit box: “-uby.” He then asked if they knew what type of dog Ruby was. Another partial response: “-hua.” About that time, Ruby seemed to jump or pull back in surprise, as if something had touched her face. She swiped impatiently at her muzzle.

It quieted after that. I tried holding a “trigger object,” which is meant to evoke memories of a spirit’s past and thus trigger a reaction. In this case, I grabbed a doll from a nearby table.

Nothing. I put the doll back.

I was getting ready to give up when Ruby froze and let out a sharp “ARF!” All three of us jumped out of our skins. At first, I worried that she simply needed to go pee. Could I get her downstairs before she had an accident? Then I noticed she was looking past me over my right shoulder.

I picked her up to soothe her. I asked the spirits if Ruby had scared them.

The two larger motion-sensitive lights — one on the bed, the other on a table —began flashing brightly in tandem, not unlike the lights at a railroad crossing.

As we wrapped the investigation, we agreed that 307 is largely a benign space, and if anything, it feels distinctly feminine.

That triggered more bright flashing from the motion-sensitive lights, as if the spirits were saying, “Ding ding ding! Tell them what they’ve won, Bob!”

Intuition = confirmed.

The Overnight Stay

I stayed in Room 108, a dog-friendly room on the first floor. It took a while for Ruby and me to settle in — we were both still wired. As we drifted off to sleep, we felt a soft bump against the bed. Ruby’s head popped up. She seemed to be listening. I listened. Nothing. Ruby’s head flopped back onto her blanket in that funny “Humph!” way she has. The bed was cozy and warm, the hotel quiet. I drifted off into a deep sleep. If the room were indeed active, the spirits were careful not to wake the dead.

The Recommendation

Even if you’re not into the paranormal, think it’s all B.S., I still recommend doing at least one ghost hunt. There are worse ways to spend an evening than ditching the phone for a while, losing yourself in another world and its folklore, taking the time to listen to a room. Listen to history yawn, groan, and try to speak.

After all, the only true danger lies in dismissing opportunities to face whatever scares us, to explore the liminal spaces we thought we’d forgotten about when we were 12.

Notes:

The Glen Tavern Inn
134 N. Mill Street
Santa Paula, California 93060
Phone: 805-933-5550
Email: hello@officialglentavern.com

Look for more upcoming events on EventBrite or on the Inn’s Instagram feed.