Listener Tales 40 New Orleans Edition!｜Morbid

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I have been listening to the Martha's Vineyard Beach and Book Club, which actually Elena recommended to me.

She did not listen to it, but she said, girl, this title sounds so you.

And let me tell you, it did. I've been listening to it while I walk, and I am absolutely loving it.

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Hey weirdos, I'm Ash. And I'm Elena. And this is Morbid.

Thank you. a listener tales episode everybody Well, that went on a lot longer than I thought it would.

Well, because I, like, slowed down the bubbles.

Oh, that makes sense. I was like, whoa. I was going... like usually you would go like, but I went like, Yeah, maybe I did a long video.

It was long, but it's okay. It's all right.

You got us into it. That's all that matters.

Brought to you by you, for you, from you, and all about you.

Exactly. And this is going to have a specific theme today.

Oh, we'll do it. We do love a good theme.

We love a theme. And this week we have themed everything, it seems.

New Orleans. We have themed it New Orleans.

And there's a reason for that. There's a reason for the season of NOLA.

For NOLA, always. Well, our reason, there's many reasons for NOLA, but our reason is there's something exciting happening.

With The Butcher and the Wren, which takes place in New Orleans and in Louisiana and all that fun stuff.

I've heard of that book. So guys. The first thing I need to say is, sorry, I was talking into the side of the microphone because I had to cough.

Hey, talk into the top. It's pollen season.

So I wanted to say, you guys, thank you so much for pre-ordering my book.

It's been amazing. It's been blowing my mind left and right.

You guys continue to amaze me. And we wanted to do something else cool for you guys.

And also maybe like if you haven't pre-ordered and you were thinking of pre-ordering and you were just like waiting a little while?

Are you waiting for it to come out? I don't know.

Now's the time. Maybe pre-order now because If you have pre-ordered or if you do pre-order now You can go to tinyurl.com slash online.

Hold on, I'm coming for you. tinyurl.com slash t-b-a-t-w video.

And I'll put it in the little show notes.

I'll say it again, don't worry. Go there, upload your pre-order receipt.

And a select number of these are going to be chosen at random to be winners of a video, a personalized video from me.

And it's going to be me telling you some small things about the writing process of this book, like the inspiration.

I can tell you just like a few behind the scenes details that no one else is going to get.

Excited! And it's going to be really fun.

I can't wait to tell you. So guys, upload your receipts.

If you have pre-ordered already, this is a big thank you because you guys have been so fucking awesome and if you thought that you were gonna like censor yourself and i was like we don't do that here i almost I don't know if I've just been around the kids a lot, so I'm used to censoring, but whoops.

Fucking awesome is what I mean. And again, if you have pre-ordered or if you want to pre-order now, take that receipt that you get from your pre-order go to tinyurl.com t-b-a-t-w video upload your receipt, your information, you will be entered into the drawing to be a select number of people that are going to get that personalized video that I'm really excited to do for you.

And If you haven't pre-ordered yet and this is appealing to you and you're like, hell yeah, this is my time.

I'm ready. Put me in, coach. I'm ready to play.

It's your moment. You can go to tinyurl.com slash the butcher and the Wren.

And you can buy from any number of places.

You can get it on Amazon, your local bookshop, Target, Barnes & Noble, all kinds of places.

So... If you feel like now is your time and you want to be put into play, that's where you go.

And then you can upload your receipt. And it's all really exciting.

I'm excited. It's coming up. Like, it's coming.

It's coming up. Like we're going to be able to hold this thing.

I'm going to hold this thing in my hands in a few months.

Like the hard cover. I'm going to smell it.

I can't wait to smell it. And I'm going to go to all the Target's and bookstores near us and I'm going to put it in the front.

All the Tarshays. All the Tarshays. All of them.

Very excited, guys. And I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate what you've done and how you like jumped right on it and got me those pre-orders.

And I can't wait for you to read it. I really, really, really think that you're all going to love it because I really had you in mind writing it.

So I just like, I can't wait. for you to read it I don't just feel like they're gonna like it I know they're gonna like it I hope so people love everything you put out there aww They do.

That's so nice. I love it. It's so nice.

Sorry. I have like, I'm coming off of the bronchitis. bronchitis.

And I went straight into pollen season. So my lungs are just like, wow, okay, thanks.

But yeah. You have the black lung. I do.

I have the black lung. I feel like Zoolander when he's like, That's what I was just thinking of.

But yeah, you guys rock. I just want to let you know.

This is a big thank you for you. Hopefully we'll do some more things leading up to that.

Go get the pre-order if you haven't and if you can and if you already have.

Get to tinyurl.com slash TBATW video. and upload that receipt.

So it's an acronym. That's the reason why we did a whole New Orleans theme, because why not?

That's fun. And what we decided to do today was do an entire Listener Tales episode that is all your New Orleans tales. new orleans and man oh man you gave us some good ones I'm particularly excited for the first one that you're going to read today.

Is it just the title that really sold you?

It's simply the title, because I haven't read anything else other than the title.

So the title of this one is the listener tale of three beautiful, big bootylicious bottom girls and the honorary white girl that could have kidnapped us in New Orleans.

Amazing. I'm ready. Let's go. I am ready. all right hello weirdos i'm not going to be all gushy about my love for you guys i'll keep it simple I love you guys.

I'm sorry if my grammar sucks. Feel free to change my wording to make me sound smarter.

LOL I love you already. I'm obsessed. My name is Caitlin and yes, you can use my name.

Thank you, Caitlin. For the sake of the story, we'll call my two friends Athena and Serena.

You picked great names. I feel like I should give the personalities of my two friends.

Athena is a quirky person who is very free-spirited, adventurous extrovert who I've known since middle school.

Literally, she is my favorite person to be around, especially since I'm an introvert who gets tired of people and she understands my limit.

Sounds like us. Yeah. The other, Serena, is a nurse who is very smart, level headed person with a calm spirit.

She also understands me being an introvert and takes out the talkative person and brings out the talkative person I can become when I'm around people. that I can be completely open with.

We all need a friend like that. Totally.

All of us worked together during high school at a mom and pop ice cream shop in a college town in northern Utah.

In March of this year, we all decided to go to New Orleans.

Let's go. Our original plan was to go to Greece.

Same thing. How'd you end up in Nola? But we all needed to go somewhere else.

You know, we all felt we needed to go somewhere else.

So we changed our plans and lo and behold, Russia attacked Ukraine.

PSA for the weirdos, make sure to listen to your gut.

Wow, so you were supposed to be going over there at that time.

That's wild. Anyways, we were having a wonderful time the nine days we were there.

I freaking loved New Orleans. I thought it was just a place people got drunk and went topless for a couple of wild days.

But they had so much to do. And that is coming from three girls who don't drink or do drugs.

I love she's like, there's more to do than that, guys.

Each day we had one fun thing we did. Then we just explored the city going to all the bakeries and stores that they have there.

That sounds so nice. I was just going to say, I'm like so jealous of this right now.

I'm living through you. I want to go somewhere.

I want to go to New Orleans. I do too. Then we would spend the rest of the night talking until the early mornings of the next day.

It was very stress relieving. I can feel that.

Oh, totally. Just sitting up after a nice day exploring the spooky city of New Orleans.

Yeah, with your best gal pals. Man. So after the week of beignet-filled sugar rush high we had each day, the day before we were leaving, we wanted to go ziplining in the bayou.

Ooh, that sounds like so much fun, but it won't after you read Elena's book.

It definitely won't after you read the book.

No. We went to a little place about 20-ish minute, about a 20, about a 20-ish minute drive.

There we go. We did it. Ish is hard. Outside of New Orleans, we Ubered out there and planned on doing the same thing to get back.

We'll come to the end of our zipline experience where we got to zipline over a crocodile.

We also got to feed the crocodile marshmallows.

Hmm. Who knew the swimming carnivorous chomp chomp dino death machines would like something so innocent like marshmallows?

Amazing. I love that. Dino death machines.

That's exactly what they are. Anyways, we did not have service, so we did the only thing we knew to do, and that was walk to the closest town that was about three miles away to try and get... some service or to try to get some service to get an uber or taxi to get us back to town We started along the long road back to the main highway and just enjoyed the beautiful nature.

Of course, every time someone drove by, I would be a little nervous, but only one stopped wanting to offer us a ride.

However, his truck was full of construction stuff, and I don't think we would have fit three beautiful, big, bootylicious bottom girls anywhere in there.

I'm so obsessed with you. Beautiful, big, bootylicious bottom girls.

And I love that she's just like, we would not have fit in there.

No. It's not happening. So he continued driving, and we had just made it to the main highway.

There were more cars driving the road than the previous, but no one stopped.

I, being a crime enthusiast, had thought we were all on the same understanding that we would not be taking rides from strangers.

Well, my good extroverted adventure friend Athena, I guess, was not on the same page.

For some reason, I thought that this girl who backpacked through Europe for three weeks would be more than a little wary, would be a little more wary of the don't take rides from strangers rule.

LOL, nope. Uh-oh. This episode is brought to you by the Jordan Harbinger Show.

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Some man stopped his car and asked if we wanted a ride, and Athena said yes.

Now, I will say I felt nervous about this situation, but nevertheless, we all got in the car.

All I could think at the time was, what did I agree to and why am I in the car with this person I'd met literally two seconds ago?

I'm sure you guys are thinking the same thing lol.

I am. When we were in the car, I think all the crime lessons came back all at once, and I took a side profile picture of him with my phone.

Amazing. Smart. and wanted to send it to someone that I could trust.

It's not like I can't trust my mom or dad.

I just didn't want to freak them out. So I sent it to my brother that is just two years older than me, along with sharing my location with him for the next two hours.

Smart. Well, he drove us to the nearest gas station, which was literally a three minute drive, and stopped.

He went into the gas station to buy something and left his phone and car with us.

At that time, Serena and I were sitting in the back and Athena was in shotgun.

He then came back in the car and offered to drive us back to New Orleans if we just paid for gas.

At the time, I had started feeling more at ease knowing it was just him, a mid-50s black man in the car, and he literally left his car and keys with us so that he that we could take at any moment.

I know, I know that is not what we use. That is not what they usually do to make you, or excuse me, sorry.

I know, I know, that is what they usually do to make you feel secure.

Then he said, we could even drive to make us feel more comfortable.

He kept telling us that he had a daughter and grandkids that he would hate to see on the side of the road and wanted to help.

I feel like if we were like, if, if we were driving, if like one of us was driving, that would make me feel even more uncomfortable.

Cause I'd be like, I'm like, Like your hands are free.

Yeah, exactly. That's the thing. You can do whatever you want.

Yeah. And that whole like... I have a daughter and a granddaughter thing has been used so many times before.

So we took him up on his offer with or we took him up on his offer and thought at the very least if he tried anything my friend could crash the car and we could get get away since he wasn't wearing a seatbelt and all three of us were.

All right. I love the thought process. It's a good. thought process.

On the way back we laughed and enjoyed the company of this sweet older black man.

He told us that his wife was never going to believe that he was in the car with four girls and we were a little confused and said but there's only three of us and he said me i am the honorary white girl I'm literally obsessed.

Amazing. So we did get to New Orleans and we dropped off.

And he dropped us off a couple of blocks away from an Airbnb.

And we all walked back. Once we got in, Serena and I were like, wow, that was kind of a dangerous situation we put ourselves in.

And Athena turns around and says, really?

Did you guys not feel safe? I felt safe the whole time.

Anyways, keep it weird, but take it away, Ash.

Not so weird that you go into a stranger's car with your three friends even if he is an honorary white girl because, you know, you never know what could happen.

That could have been bad, but I'm really glad it was good.

I love that he was like, I am the honorary white girl.

Also, one, what a sweet man. I know. That he like... that he just like wholesomely picked up three girls.

Yeah. and like drove them to their intent, which I love that we're like all, we're like, you know, what a good man that he didn't murder these women.

I know, seriously, the bar is low. It's nice that he did that.

He just picked people up and brought them to where they wanted to go.

That was very nice of him. And then he just seemed like such a sweet guy.

And then for him to be like, you can drive if it makes you feel better. i know two minutes ago we're like that wouldn't make me feel better motherfucker and now we're like oh my god that was really nice you know what that was really nice i get it though i love that though All right, my next one is called, and Elena chose these, so I don't know what I'm getting into.

The day the ceiling fan blades chose to dip.

A listener tale. And it says, hey, weirdos, I have attached a puttafa of some of my creepy experiences.

I hope you enjoy reading them. more so than my family and I enjoyed living through them.

Hi, ladies. Feel free to use my name. It's Gretel.

Yep, just like the fairy tale, because what parent doesn't like to torture their kid during elementary school? school.

Anyway, I grew up in the New Orleans area. and just about every, oh, sorry.

So I and just about everyone else has some kind of spooky tale about their house, their grandma's house, or because it's in the South, some sort of creepy-ass relative.

I lived with my family in an ordinary suburban house until my sophomore year of high school, so 1992-ish.

It was at that point that my parents had an absolutely fucking brilliant idea.

Hey, let's save our crumbling marriage by buying a hundred year old house that needs extensive updating. and spend every waking moment scraping lead paint off the woodwork.

Sounds great. Side note, nope, don't do it.

Doesn't work. You'll still get a divorce, but not until 12 years after you've started the process.

And you'll make your entire fucking family miserable.

And your kids won't get all their shit back from storage until they're well into their twenties. and long after their New Kids on the Block fixation has ended.

You're all shocked by this, I can tell. It's true.

I was like, what? That didn't work? That was amazing.

I knew from the night we moved in that we were not the only inhabitants.

Heavy footfalls up and down the staircase and in the vicinity of my bedroom door and the giggles of a young girl announced the presence of Atlanta. least two additional occupants the giggles of a young girl never never ever even if she is in this world Even if she is jolly, I don't want it.

I don't need it. No. belonged to a man who eventually became even more disappointed with my propensity for being late for curfew than my uptight mother oh no You had a narc living with you, a spirit narc?

Oh no. I was five minutes late, my mother grounded me the next morning.

But upon entering the house even a minute late, I was always greeted by a tall, frowning gentleman in a top hat with arms folded across his chest.

Excuse me. who would place himself between me and the stairwell, regardless of which room I approached the stairs from.

If he'd had feet instead of floating... Oh, my God.

If he'd had feet instead of floating a foot off the floor...

I imagine they'd have been impatiently tapping.

I'm sorry, you just came home and this top-hatted gentleman was just disappointed in you every And he was just this floating top hat gentleman, like didn't even have feet.

I'd be like, I'm the disappointed one. Where's your feet?

Where's your feet? Where's your feet, man?

You know? Whoa. After my first encounter with him when I screamed, woke up the rents and the neighbors, then had to talk to my mom.

Then I had to talk my mother out of calling the police because I did not want to have to explain to the NOPD that the intruder was, in fact.

Dead. Of the spirit realm. I quickly became adept at squeezing past him. without touching or passing through him.

I have no idea what would have happened if my earthly mortal body met his filmy floaty one. but the very idea of having to explain to my mother why the stairwell was covered in ectoplasm a la Slimer filled me with dread.

Seriously, she was the scariest thing in that house.

Oh, man. I'm scared. Every Saturday morning after I'd used a heat gun to scrape the lead, I mean paint, From how much woodwork my mother deemed enough, I was tasked with cleaning my bedroom.

Every Saturday afternoon, I would get yelled at again for failing to organize the top of my dresser and wiping up the lotions and cosmetics that were smeared across its top. even though I had just done it, sorry, even though I had just done so before my mother's arrival.

That sounds horrific. That sounds spiritual.

Yeah, I don't love that. Is what that sounds like. and begged my giggly ghostly roommate to please, please wait until after the cleanliness of the room had been checked before playing in my makeup. she was kind enough to comply from then on what a little sweetie oh that's so creepy Creepy, but like real sweet.

Adorable. Yeah. Good listener. Eventually, I graduated from high school, left for college.

My... Teeth just like stayed closed for a second.

They were like, no, don't open your mouth.

Don't do it. Anyways, eventually I graduated from high school, left for college, dropped out, got married, had kids, and took a whirlwind journey across the United States because of my husband's career in the Air Force.

I'm a little envious of listeners who have had spooky experiences in Utah.

We did not encounter anything supernatural or exceptionally creepy while there. unless you count the neighbors who harassed us about drinking beer on our porch on Sundays.

Anyway, I'm like, anyway, why can't you drink beer on your porch on a Sunday?

I know. Why not? I feel like that's the best day to drink beer on your porch.

Is this in Utah? Maybe it's. Oh, it must be like a religious thing.

Or like it might even be like a dry place.

Yeah, that makes sense. Lame. Okay. Anyway, we landed where we are now in the Florida panhandle.

The second house we rented in this area was where shit really started to get fucking weird.

It was in the center of two and a half acres and surrounded by wire fencing with a gate right up the street.

My husband, who grew up in rural Michigan, heard the rental agent say that we could have chickens or pigs and suddenly fancied himself a gentleman farmer.

I'm obsessed. Amazing. I love that your husband was just like, well, I'm a farmer now.

Well. Yeehaw. Now that I can, I really should.

I don't know why I said yeehaw to that. You know, why not?

I'm sure some farmers say yeehaw. Sure. Yeah.

I was going to say giddy up. Giddy up. Yeah, you want to be a farmer.

No, you want to be a cowboy. Guys, what's happening?

I'm in a place of cowboy. What's happening?

I think that top hat guy stressed me out.

Me as well. I don't know what to do. You want to be a cowboy. i don't you do i don't you do i you don't understand that you do but you do it's me jesse remember i'm a city girl chickens come from the goddamn grocery store Tall mature trees and lots of brush grew on the inside of the fence, providing privacy." and inky hellish darkness under the cover of night.

My favorite kind of darkness. same we soon began noticing in various places including the driveway that pieces of glassware and pottery began working their way up through the dirt, broken but together, much like pieces of a puzzle.

Cool. This doesn't sound strange. No, it does.

But these relics of the property's past would appear where nothing had been just hours, sometimes minutes before. other odd occurrences began happening with frightening regularity.

I spotted a piece of whitish cloth in an area of the yard where no whitish cloth had lain before, only to discover one cup of bra.

It was dirty. Okay, brah. One cup of brah.

One cup of bra. One cup of bra. I'll take a cup of bra, please.

One cup of a bra. It was dirty. It had been sliced cleanly through the band between the cups.

Hey, that's either like extraordinarily like dirty or it's. really scary and something really hellish happened here.

Yeah. I hope it's dirty. Just for your sake.

Too dirty to clean its act up. I'm just saying.

Not only was I not missing a bra, but the cup was too damn small to have been mine.

That's relatable. That's never my problem.

Yeah. We have different problems. One evening, my two boys and I arrived home at dusk.

No. My older son and I cautiously approached to figure out what the fuck they were doing.

There was no they. Instead, it was a weighted bunch of helium inflated get well balloons.

No. Oh, yeah. Someone or something had to open or crawl over the locked gate to hand deliver that bunch of balloons to the side of the house.

Ew. And the fact that they're get well balloons, that's terrifying.

That's ominous as fuck. I threw them away, but not until the next day after my kids thought it would be funny to leave them where I'd run into them at 4.45 in the morning.

Your kids are hilarious. They are funny.

She goes, assholes. I didn't say that. And we continued living our semi-rural life in what was fast proving to be a more than slightly haunted cabin in the woods.

I was the first to leave in the morning and I was the first to arrive home The other afternoon, I came home to two terrified dogs who couldn't get out of the house fast enough.

Aw. Once I managed to chase them back inside, I flopped onto the couch to catch my breath and looked up.

A quick text to the fam proved that the ceiling fan had been on and intact when everyone else left.

It was now still and only had two blades.

What? The rational side of my brain assumed that the fan was off balance and the screws holding the blades were to the body. must have slowly loosened as the fan rotated at high speed, thus allowing them to fly off.

A quick examination of the fan showed otherwise.

The metal pieces that connected the blades to the fan twisted and deformed as though the blades had been violently ripped off and thrown.

What? My irritation at the dogs quickly disappeared and together we scrambled to the car and and went on the hunt for some emotional support ice cream until the rest of the family went home.

Amazing. We've never found those fanboys.

Even when we packed up to move a year and a half or so later.

No. What the fuck? Why did it rip the fan blades off?

And where did they go? Where'd they take them?

The fuck? No, the next owners are going to find them like coming up from the ground.

Oh my God. Yes, probably. Yes, it took another 18-ish months to get away from that house.

When my husband retired from the Air Force, I told him that if he didn't start the process of using his VA benefits to buy a house, then I would start the process for him.

Why, yes. I was willing to commit a felony if it meant getting the hell out of that house.

Can't say I blame you. No. Two years of weird occurrences, including my older son waking up on Sunday morning with a snake in his bed.

Doors that randomly opened or shut on their own, a cat that refused to enter a particular room, and other weird happenings and strange injuries or more than I could handle, especially since the job he took after the retirement, excuse me, especially since the job he took after retirement requires lots of traveling, sometimes for months at a time.

Oh my God, imagine being in that house. No, no.

And they wrote, there was no way in hell I was going to be the sole adult in that house for extended periods of time.

No. Nope, I don't blame you. We found a lovely, much newer house, moved, and became friends with our neighbors.

One evening, she was relating the experiences of a friend who had recently moved with her two grandchildren to a new rental house, On a picturesque, do you see where I'm going with this?

Uh-oh. Two and a half acre piece of property.

I wish I could say that the experiences in that house were more pleasant for this new family.

Oh no. But unfortunately the weird occurrences and dark energy my children later stated they felt.

Oh, no. Oh, no. Holy shit. Whoa. Before I end this, I also want to let you know how I discovered the podcast and what it has become to mean to me and my younger son.

At some point during quarantine, a friend posted on Facebook about the origins of Lake Lanier. and another recommended the episode.

Hey, thanks. Years ago, my husband and I lived in that area and I crossed that bridge every, oh my goodness, I crossed the bridge damn near every day.

Not knowing the history, I attributed the nausea I experienced whenever I was near the lake Thank you.

I told my younger son, hi, Kyler. Hi, Kyler.

That's a cute name about those experiences.

And he expressed an interest in listening.

I love it. As a result, we began a tradition of having a mother-son conversation. coffee date one morning a week.

Oh my god, stop. I love this. That's so cute. it gets cuter we get up to way too fucking early drive for an obscene amount of time out of our small little town for overpriced espresso and listen to an episode.

I love this. Sometimes we drive in silence, both of us laser focused on the case. while other times you two and your banter will spark a conversation. that my kid is becoming. as he prepares for his high school graduation and entrance into adulthood. i want to be the mom that you are oh my god this is just like so cool to hear and like so like i feel like every episode that i put together now i'm gonna think of you and Kyler driving and listening.

Those are the things that make us like change certain things or like keep doing certain things or just like grow in some ways because it's like these kind of stories make me just like want to do better and better each time.

It's so true. Just for you guys. That was really fucking cool to know that.

And it says, so thank y'all for those conversations and the extra connection to my kid.

I absolutely love you too and hope to see y'all in person someday, maybe down here on the Gulf Coast.

I'd absolutely drive home to NOLA to see a live show.

I would love to do a New Orleans show someday.

You would like literally shit your pants.

I would. I feel like it's like that is one of those shows that I would 100% do.

100% in person. I would love that. And honestly, like that just made my day.

That made my entire day. of things when you like when we read these listener tales and like read the emails and stuff those are the things that i'm like we like because everyone you do it and because everybody's gonna see like a negative comment or somebody who just like hates you for no reason oh yeah we all have social media these are the ones everybody has social media but when you read this kind of shit and it can get you down like and ask any creator it knocks you out Like it just, you're like, why am I doing this?

Like if I'm not, if I'm just, everybody hates me.

You just feel that way. Even if it's one person, you're like, everyone hates me.

That's the way it is. But then you read this and it's like, oh shit, that's awesome.

Like you and your kid get to have a moment and it's like we get to be part of that.

And that makes me be like, oh, fuck yeah.

I just love that. That's honestly why I stay on social media because as shitty as, like, some of the things that, like, pop up on there, like, trust me.

That everybody... I see some shitty things, you know.

But just connecting with people, like especially on Instagram. like I love connecting with our listeners.

It makes you feel so much better. And you're like, that is why I do what I do.

It keeps us going. It really does. So like, please guys know, even if like we can't possibly respond to every single thing because we would love to.

I try. But we see so much and we read so much and like, I can't express this enough to you. how much it means to us and how much it like... actively like fuels us to keep going and keep getting better.

So I just want you guys to know like, You make a huge difference even just by saying a nice thing.

Like you really do. Like, I just want you to know that when you take the time to do that.

It means so much. so incredibly appreciated and that it's the only way that we keep getting better.

We keep like, no, you know what? Zoe said this the other day and like, fuck yeah, I got to do this.

We got to keep going for Kyler and Caitlyn.

Oh, we know it wasn't Caitlyn. and I read the wrong name.

It was fucking Gretel. How do I forget that like a gosh darn idiot?

Fairy tales. We got to keep going for Gretel and Kyler because they need to have their fucking coffee dates.

Like, hell yeah. That's just the most beautiful thing.

You guys rule. You do. Gretel, that was sick.

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All right, my next one is Haunted Hospital's Hidden Mass Grave, a New Orleans original.

Yikes. And it says, hey, ladies, I will freak the heck out if you read this off air and I will be deceased if you read it on the podcast.

Whatever happens, thank you for being a morbidly bright spot in my life.

All right, peace. Hey, weirdos, Ash, Elena, y'all are my quarantine queens.

A fellow weirdo and now good friend of mine.

Shout out to millennia. to me right at the beginning of the lockdown back in March, and I can't listen to literally anything else while cooking, cleaning, driving, showering, exercising, etc.

You two fabulous females are constantly in my ear.

I procrastinated writing my listener tale for so long because I want to catch up on all the episodes first, but I just can't wait anymore.

Also, feel free to use my name Will do Let me make sure.

Hold on. I'm going to say what your name is.

Hannah, you're the best. I didn't want to like not use your name.

As I write this, I am on day three of no power, courtesy of Hurricane Zeta.

Omega Beta Zeta. This is Cece. Down in New Orleans.

I'm taking it as a sign that I'm supposed to write this now because I have no idea how my laptop is still charged. charged.

It's fate. I agree. Me too. Our windows are wide open too, because you know, it's freaking Louisiana and it's sweltering.

It's helter sweltering inside if you don't open windows while the power is out.

Fresh air is for dead people. but so is dying of heat exhaustion.

So I have to pick the lesser of two evils.

I get that. We'll let it slide. Yeah, and I slept on the couch.

Ooh, I said that too soon. So many awful situations I've walked into here.

One more rabble before the tale. Please, I beg of you come to New Orleans when all this COVID stuff is over with.

I will buy out your shows. The spooky capital of Louisiana will not disappoint, I promise.

You know what? I fully believe that. And also, um, I don't know if it helps because at this point when you read, when you wrote this, it hadn't come out, but like I wrote a book that's based in New Orleans, Louisiana.

So like, love you. You did? I did. Is it called The Butcher and the Wren.

Is it available at tinyurl.com slash thebutcherandtheren?

It sure is. Wild. Go get your copy now. How did I know?

Also, the Zack and Addie episode was freaky crazy to hear because of how close to home it hits.

I have friends that worked with them on Bourbon Street and were so shocked when this happened.

I got chill bumps when y'all did that one.

I like chill bumps instead of goosebumps.

I do too. I'm not a goose. No, and I don't understand why they're goosebumps.

Can't drive. I'm a goose. They're chill bumps.

Oh, can somebody tell us why they're goose bumps?

I wonder if there's a reason for that. I'm sure there is.

Let me know. Anywho, let's dive in. Sing it, Ash.

I'm about to dive in. Boom. My listener tale just so happens to be based in this spoopy city I call home.

Growing up visiting my family here, we went on every single haunted ghost store the city had to offer.

I am so jealous. Same. We did all the cemetery tours, met the current voodoo queen, had our palms read and tarot cards told, Is that what one does with tarot cards?

Tells them? I don't know the right verb, sorry.

I think it reads them. I think it's, there you go.

I was going to be like, I think it's told.

And you're like, no, it's not. I was like, it's not.

And we heard every single legend so many times that I am now the tour guide for my friends that visit since I moved down here three years ago.

I was obsessed with the AHS Coven season.

Me too. Same. because of its historical accuracy to the base storylines.

I also have had a photo session in front of the house they filmed it in.

Color me a freak. You know what? You're my freak and I love you.

You're our freak. I want in on this. You can have some too.

Okay. Old abandoned buildings aren't taken down here.

They simply are fenced off and haunt the space they sit in.

How beautiful. That... Why would you tear down a haunted house?

I love that so much. They literally just sit there until a mysterious fire destroys it or the crime rate at that location becomes overwhelming.

Charity Hospital School, Charity Hospital, schools destroyed by Katrina, Hard Rock Hotel, the old naval base.

They are all decaying, dilapidated, semi falling down, covered in graffiti and are frequent drop in spots for discarded murder victims.

Woof. These places are definitely haunted by their histories, if not by actual ghosts.

Damn. Nothing surprises me here anymore.

Nothing. That is until my last night playing tourist here roughly two years ago.

I was teaching at an inner-city school and had had a particularly draining day of disrespect from students and administration scapegoating, i.e. a nine-year-old who responded with, fuck you, bitch, when I asked him to set down his headphones.

Oh my goodness. I was about ready to get fired and be totally okay with it.

It was a Friday night and my teacher friends were feeling the same.

I love Commiserating is my favorite. I love teachers also.

Like, let me tell you. Yeah, you're heroes.

We decided to do something to celebrate the Halloween season and de-stress from the work week.

We found a great Groupon name drop for a hopeful sponsor.

Love you so much. For cheap tickets to a citywide cemetery tour that encouraged us to BYOB.

We didn't think twice and headed for downtown to meet up with the tour guide for 8pm.

Now remember, I had been on all of these tours before, so I thought I wasn't getting into anything I wasn't ready for.

That was problem number one. Okay, now for some background information on me for the rest of the story.

I'm a Christian, and therefore... fully believe that demons exist on this earth along with angels and that ghosties sometimes need help passing into the other side.

I'm skeptical of paranormal hunters simply because they make a lot of money scaring people with their fancy equipment.

And I've seen it happen on multiple occasions down here.

I don't trust humans. I think that's the main point.

Humans are sketchy as fuck. I agree. The teacher friends I was with definitely did not believe the same as me in regards in any regards, though.

One thought this was a total crock and went along for the booze.

I mean, same. And the other was so scared off her rocker, she had to cling to one of us the entire time.

We were a weird trio of witches, let me tell you.

The rest of the people on this tour were Karens from mostly out of town.

The tour guide was cheesy and looked like a SWAT team member ready to infiltrate a hostage situation with the amount of paranormal gear he had strapped to his body.

Oh, man. he looked like the fly that sat upon pence's hair a few weeks ago wow what a sign of the times yeah wow He might have been the creepiest part of the event had what happened at our last stop not occurred.

Each participant had been given a spirit box or whatever it's called. little black box that made white noise sounding frequencies and translated energy from the spirits into the vicinity in the vicinity into english i was intrigued i'd never been given one of these on a tour and was hoping to get at least a little fun out of it We climbed on a creepily decorated bus and hit about four different cemeteries.

Each time we'd pull up to a lot, unload off the bus, listen to the haunting histories of each place and watch for the words the spirits gave us.

I'd tell the familiar stories in my head and watch the Karens take pictures in the dark hoping to catch an orb on their phone.

I was enjoying seeing everyone freak out over the feigned spookiness of everything and sipped from my wine bottle.

Yes, bottle. You don't have to hide your sin and no love.

With my pinky up. I kept my eye on my little spirit box, but quickly grew tired of it.

As the words dog, dark, and girl popped up, yawn.

Climbing back into the bus, I was happy we were almost at the fifth and final stop. abandoned Charity Hospital's mass grave.

The hospital was abandoned three weeks after Hurricane Katrina hit back in 2005.

It is now an ominous building with weird hauntings of its own that could fill up an entire episode for you guys.

Noted. I suggest looking more into it. That's actually on one of my lists because I want to do a bunch of New Orleans episodes and that was on there.

Sweet. Charity's doors first opened in 1736 and therefore has seen its fair share of deaths.

When the tuberculosis breakout hit New Orleans hard way back when, there were too many cases and not enough plots to bury the dead.

So Charity had a mass grave dug near where the highway sits today.

Thousands of people are buried on top of each other and their sadness was buried with them.

Families did not get closure and loved ones were lost forever without a grave marker to visit.

That's so sad. That really is. I had not heard about this place before.

This had me on the edge of my bus seat with intrigue.

Our bus pulled up at the gate of the Hurricane Katrina Memorial and I was confused.

This wasn't where I thought we were going because Charity Hospital was about two miles away, and surrounding the Katrina Memorial, there were only trees.

Where was the mass grave? Hold on to your butts, ladies.

Apparently, the Katrina Memorial was placed in front of the mass grave, which was not marked. marked.

Our tour guide led us through the tall black gates towards the memorial.

I'd been here before and was already trying to figure out what exactly we were going to find at this burial site.

The guide walked behind the memorial, towards the forest, and moved some branches aside to reveal a break in the dense trees.

The Katrina Memorial was covering the portal to Charity's grave.

What? We had to push our way through unkempt trees and an untrodden path.

Everyone was silent and holding their breath, which we could now see as the temperature ominously dropped and the moon was our only source of light.

Both my friends were now clinging to either of my arms as we flailed through the cobwebs that hung delicately in the trees.

No, I know. No one was taking pictures. No one was looking at their ghost boxes.

Strangers were grasping each other's shoulders.

The guide was eerily serene. We couldn't hear the traffic from the busy highway right next to us anymore.

The atmosphere was changing and there was no denying that.

The hair on my neck started to stand up.

This literally was a portal. Then there came to view in the dim moonlight a single wooden cross centered in... in an all of a sudden vast, empty piece of land.

Just one wooden cross. Huh. There was a huge circular area of just grass, short grass, like it had been cut, even though this mass grave was no longer tended to.

The wooden cross cast a long shadow across us from the moon shining behind it.

The guide turned around to face us and said, explore.

Ooh, that's freaky. Some of the braver tourists started moving forward.

Some backed up to the tree line and didn't venture out at all.

My two friends and I huddled together and slowly moved forward.

I was shaking. And I don't know if it was because of the sudden cold or the sadness that it overwhelmed me.

Probably both. This was not a happy place.

This was a place of death. Our guide didn't have to tell us a story of its history because the atmosphere said it all.

I stood still, taking in the melancholy of this place in the dark.

Suddenly my sadness was replaced by a pressing fear.

My eyes searched for whatever threat my body was sensing, but I couldn't find anything.

My friends must have felt it too, because they both raced back to the tree line with the others that hadn't dared to venture out.

I could not move. My eyes were wide and I could just stare into the vast field in front of me.

My feet were cemented into the grass and my knees were locked. in my throat and I started tearing up because I was petrified of this invisible horror around me.

I started praying in my head because my lips wouldn't even move.

I prayed for protection, safety and begged for Jesus to come get me the heck out of there.

My eyes then shot down to the ghost box as it pinged a word across the screen.

Christian, leave. Ooh, I just got... full chill bumps is what i just got my entire body just became a field of chill bumps you are a chill bump Can you see them?

I can. My heart leapt through my chest as I processed those two words.

That box had me laughing earlier at its generic terms at the other sites, but this?

This was reading my thoughts and hearing my silent prayers.

I tried to do as the box said, but I still could not move.

My feet were set and my mouth was still sealed shut.

I kept staring at the ghost bops, hoping that no new words.

I said ghost bops. You did. I felt it. I kept staring at the ghost box, hoping that no new words would pop up.

I can't remember hearing anything but the white noise.

I felt alone and terrified. New words flashed on the screen.

Hannah. Christian. leave. That is my mother freaking name.

Not today Satan. Oh my god. Can you imagine looking down and seeing that they know you're fucking name no and like it's not like you're like thinking like my name is hannah like yeah how did it know It just knows.

I don't know if it was this round of adrenaline finally working or that communicative Damon finally letting me go.

I love the communicative diamond. I love it. finally letting me go, but I could move again and I can't tell you how fast I bolted back. not just to the tree line, but through the bramble and bushes to the serenity of the Katrina Memorial.

I was out of breath and scratched from some of the tree branches, but the relief of the non-oppressing atmosphere was enough to calm me a bit.

I sat on the ground for a while, hugging my knees to my chest, waiting for the rest of the group.

Eventually, I could hear the crunch of leaves as the group meandered back to the memorial.

Some people seem to have the same relief as I did seeing the lights of the street reappear and the traffic noise from the highway begin again.

Others seemed disappointed. Maybe they didn't feel the atmosphere like I had.

The creepy tour guide collected us around the memorial for a final word before loading the bus back up to the end of the tour.

I found my friends sullen and silent as the group gathered around the guide.

Friends, he whispered. Regardless of your skepticism or full belief in what we did tonight, you must walk backwards out of the memorial gate.

You absolutely do not want any spirit attaching themselves to you, and walking backwards helps confuse them.

Please, whether you think I'm being silly or not, please do this.

Do it. Ladies, you best believe I backed that ass up out of the memorial faster than Juvenile himself.

I'm scared. It gets better. Even after going through the gate, I white girl twerked myself back onto that bus.

Why is this so relatable? Oh my god. safe in my plastic bus seat once more with my friends, I started thinking.

The words the guide had said reassured me that we fully knew the power that the Charity Mass grave held.

We had witnessed so much there, and we hadn't spoken a single word about it.

I wasn't going to talk about it either, I decided, and I haven't until now.

Wow, thank you. I know. That bus ride was the most silent I'd been on.

Literally no one spoke. And my friends and I went home immediately after getting back downtown. town i haven't been on a ghost or cemetery tour since and i don't know that i could muster up the courage to do so in all honesty insert sigh of relief here.

Relieving that had my heart reliving that had my heart rate increasing more than that stinky nine-year-old boy cursing me out over headphones.

Anywho. I hope you enjoyed my tale of paranormal spoopiness, and I apologize for its length.

Never do that. You girls keep being super freaking awesome.

And again, I implore you to come to New Orleans.

All right. Honey, I'm coming. I'm gonna come.

I wrote a book about it. I gotta get there.

Let's go. Keep it weird, morbid madams, but not so weird that you challenge the seriousness of spirits and diamonds and visit a mass unmarked grave with a ghost. box after the sun goes down in new orleans keep it weird love hannah Hannah, you're the baddest.

First of all, that was a phenomenal story and terrifying.

Second of all, you're a great writer. You are.

Like, man, I love you guys are you guys always amaze me because you like paint me pictures that I'm like, oh, I'm like just feeling things.

We're Joss. You're making me feel all the feels You're making me feel things Exactly I feel like you have to pause because there's a few that I could choose here in this folder.

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Oh, I choose you, listener tale entitled. while hitchhiking in rural Louisiana got rides from a man named after a power tool and some very friendly cocaine dealers.

How could we not choose that it just spoke to me yeah all right says elena and ash i love the listener tales episodes So I thought I would write in with my favorite story about how even when hitchhiking works out, it can still be a little harrowing.

That seems to be the theme of our episode today, besides New Orleans. hitchhiking in New Orleans can work out, but still be a little scary.

There you go. Here it goes. First, some setup.

In the summer of 2008, I got an internship as a ju-

You almost did that soft G. I did. And I almost was going to say as a giant.

I love it. A giant writer. Which would have been funny because it's Grant writer.

Yeah. But maybe you were a giant writer too.

Maybe. So I got an internship as a grant writer for a rebuilding nonprofit in St.

Bernard Parish, Louisiana, which is right next door to New Orleans. for you this was only a few years post katrina so there was still a lot of need and things were still kind of a mess I also had zero experience living in a rural area, so much so that I was a junior in college and still had never bothered to get a driver's license.

Only just got it last year. Fatherhood. It changes things.

It sure does. Congrats on being a Faja. The only place I could afford to rent was a former middle school that had been converted into a bunk bed style volunteering housing named Camp Hope.

That was about 10 miles from the office where I worked.

I figured, no problem, I'll bike. Only there was a problem.

Shipping my reliable hybrid bike would have been super expensive.

More expensive, it turns out, than just buying a new bike once I got down there.

And I was in luck. In Chalamet? Chalamet.

Chalamet. You were about to say Chalamet.

I don't really know why. Timothy Chalamet.

Why? That's exactly where I was. I love that.

You were in Timothee Chalamet. Chalamet.

Chalamet? Chalamet? Chalamet. No, 10 miles from Camp Hope.

There was a business called Shellmet Bicycle and Lawnmower.

So I was golden. You were. Ah, I hear you saying I was saying this in my brain.

What about rainy days? What then? Well...

I also found out that the parish had some public transportation.

St. Bernard Urban Rapid Transit. Spurt. Gross.

Spurt. gross and i didn't say that they did but it is gross but it is There was a website with routes and a timetable and everything.

On rainy days, I would just get up early and take the bus.

Easy peasy. As it turned out, St. Bernard Urban Rapid Transit was a name that contained no less than three lives.

Urban, Rapid and transit. Oh, no. After waiting on an abandoned... overgrown street corner in the pouring rain for 45 minutes one morning.

I finally called the number on the website and was told the timetables were aspirational.

I love that they're like, we aspire to get there on time, but it doesn't always happen. really like, see, here at SPART, we dream big.

Everybody has dreams. And we thought we would get there on time, but that's just us aspiring.

That's great. Keep dreaming. They also said that the service basically amounted to a van for old people that needed to be scheduled a week in advance.

Amazing. Service also ended at 3.30pm, so even if I was somehow able to take the bus to work, I would be shit out of luck getting home. but back to hitchhiking wow wow that really does that's a lot i understand now why you had to hitchhike Within one day of arriving in Louisiana, my bike plans began to fall apart.

After taking a cab to Camp Hope and unpacking, bummed a ride from some other volunteers going back into new orleans who dropped me off at Chalamet.

At Timothy Chalamet. His bicycle and lawnmower store, where my plan was to buy a bike and then ride back to Camp Hope.

No, I didn't call ahead. Why wouldn't a place named Chalamet Bicycle and Lawnmower? have anything less than bikes aplenty.

That's what I'm saying. As it turns out chalamet bicycle singular i love that you're just going with yeah it's just the way what it is what it is Chalamet Bicycle Singular and Lawnmower was well named.

They only had one assembled bike. Oh my god, stop.

And it had already been sold. Stop it. Also, I need to know, did they only have one lawnmower?

That's amazing. Like, wow. This put me in a bit of a spot.

Nine miles in 90 degree heat isn't much of a drive and it's doable on a bike, but it is a pretty long walk.

Indeed. I was in luck, however. After explaining to the owner that I was down there to volunteer, they were so grateful that they sold me the already assembled bike.

They'd assemble a new one for another customer.

And they threw in a helmet for free. This would become a common feature of my misadventures.

Lots of really amazing people who were so grateful for and kind to anyone who was Aww, New Orleans.

This is where I need to describe the bike.

It was a bright red beach cruiser, the kind with swooping handlebars, no gears, and where you needed to pedal backwards to brake.

Needless to say, it wasn't really built for a daily 20 mile round trip commute.

But it was literally my only option. So it was a fucking sea biscuit as far as I was concerned.

The helmet I'd been given was also one of those very basic styrofoam ones.

Oh man. The kind that very little kids wear, only scaled up for an adult.

To put it bluntly, I looked ridiculous. Like a fat, dumpy mushroom that had gained...

I'm screaming that I gained sentience and stolen Mrs. Gulch's bicycle.

Holy shit. picture you painted there. And may I just...

In the city, I may not have merited a single glance, but on Rural House... highways where pickup trucks were blowing past me at 45 miles an hour, let's just say I got more than a few things thrown at me.

Both insults and objects during the couple of months that I lived there.

I'm sorry. Don't throw things at people.

No, that's littering and assault. two very hefty charges bad things for about a week my plan more or less worked I would get up, shower, hop on my bike, white knuckle it for about an hour in the 90 degree heat while all manner of trucks and semis blew past me.

Spend the day researching funding sources and then repeat in the evening and get back to Camp Hope in time for dinner, which was included in my weekly fee.

Welcome to It was during one of these return trips that I encountered my first real setback.

About halfway through my route, there was a very scary bridge that went over the Violet Canal.

It was scary because the bridge was shaped like a steep hill with no shoulder and anyone coming up could not see. what was on the other side of the bridge until they were coming down.

So I crested the top. Excuse me. So once I crested the top, I'd book it down the other side for fear of being rear-ended by a speeding pickup.

Ooh. That's horrifying. That's too much for your little heart to take.

It is. Christopher. No. On this particular day, it wasn't the bridge that proved to be the problem, but the straightaway at the bottom.

Did I say that? Yeah, I did. Yeah, straight away.

Thank you. After you came down, it was an unbroken mile and a half of road with a bayou on both sides.

No cross streets, no buildings, nothing.

It was here that I experienced my first flat tire ever.

Oh, no. That sucks. I grew up in one of those Home Alone style suburbs where sidewalks were practically made from those rubber tiles that they used in playground. so it never even occurred to me that a bike's tire could pop.

As it turns out, the roads of post-Katrina Louisiana were more than up to the task.

I would say so. Yeah, I managed not to crash, but it was clear that I wasn't going anywhere.

I was still three miles from Camp Hope with the world's scariest bridge behind me, a mile of swamp in front of me, and most important...

Dinner wasn't a half hour. Hell yeah. After weighing my options, I decided that Hitchhiking...

Hitchhiking was my best option. I held up my thumb and in a matter of minutes, a black pickup truck pulled over.

The driver was not a tall man, but he was so built that his shoulders had more or less absorbed his neck.

He was bald with a thick mustache and enormous arms that were covered with black tribal style tattoos.

I used to hitchhike. Hop on in, he said in a gravelly voice.

It was at this moment I remembered some advice my grandfather had given me.

He'd once hitchhiked... hitchhiked across the United States from San Diego to Boston after getting out of the Navy.

And he told me that the hitchhiker's code was... never turned down a ride.

Mind you, when he'd pass through Louisiana, He'd been picked up by a very nice talkative Cajun guy who, when they entered a small town had without a word, stop speaking. slouched as low as he could in his seat and produced a pistol from his waistband, only to sit back up and tuck it back in once they'd passed through.

What? He then casually... almost cheerfully informed my grandfather, who had not been told to get down, some crazy son of a bitch is trying to kill me in that town screaming wow that's an epic story Still at that moment, with dinner on the line, it felt like solid advice.

This is amazing. i put my bike in the flatbed and hopped in the cab immediately things got very sweet and pretty weird It became very clear that my buff chauffeur had a lot Oh, poor guy.

But his mother was very ill, and his possibly unfaithful girlfriend had been caring for her, so he wasn't sure if he should break up with her.

I agreed that was a difficult situation.

At 22, I naturally had a deep well of experience to draw from.

He asked me what I was doing and I gave him my usual spiel about being down there to volunteer.

Without saying a word, he then pulled into a gas station and got out of the truck.

He didn't go to the pump but instead walked to the convenience store.

I awkwardly sat there for a few minutes before he returned.

And he handed me... a popsicle stop it we really appreciate you guys coming down here to help us he said stop it We chatted for a few more minutes before we pulled up to Camp Hope, where I hopped out and grabbed my bike.

Before he left, I walked to the driver's side door and held out my hand saying thank you so much by the way my name is chris he smiled reached through the window and just gripped my hand as tightly as he could Just call me Chainsaw.

He said. Thank you, Chainsaw, I said without batting an eye, because that's how I was raised.

That is how you were raised, Chris. I love it.

He's just like, you do not react to that.

Just nice to meet you, Chainsaw. Call me Chainsaw.

Okay. Amazing. From that day on, blowing out a tire became at least a twice, excuse me, Yeah, from that day on, blowing out a tire became a at least a twice weekly event. so much that I learned how to patch them myself and always carried a patch kit and a pump on my commutes.

Still, even without those precautions, I had to hitchhike a few more times.

Besides Chainsaw, the most memorable ride I got was from a truck filled with very friendly cocaine dealers oh how did i know they were cocaine dealers i was gonna ask A few things tipped me off.

One, they told me they were cocaine dealers.

Two, when they found out I was a volunteer, they insisted I have some cocaine.

On the house because they just really appreciated me being down there to help.

Everyone's so nice. Not every cocaine killer is going to just hand you some fucking cocaine. it became pretty clear from their hyper.

I'm screaming. This is the best. It became pretty clear from their hyperactive demeanor and the fact that They were easily doing 80 while I sat unrestrained in the truck's flatbed. that they had recently gotten high on their own supplies, so to speak.

Wow. Incidentally, when I politely turned down their very generous offer of cocaine, They also pulled over at a gas station and bought me a Sprite and a Red Bull, which I guess in their minds was a close equivalent. honestly in my mind too i assume yeah and that is the story of how i hitchhiked in rural louisiana live to tell the tale about a really nice guy named Chainsaw and some very friendly cocaine dealers.

Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy the story, Chris.

I enjoyed this story from the depths of my soul.

I enjoyed this story more than I enjoy most things.

Wow. Screaming. Louisiana, y'all. Everything.

This is amazing. Can we do one more? Yeah, we can do one more.

Let's do one more. Let's do one more. What the hell?

All right, I'm going to go with voodoo or food allergy.

Who the fuck knows? Maybe it was both. Not I. Okay.

Hey, beautiful ladies of the weird. My name is Amy.

A-me. Thank you for that. I love a pronunciation guide.

And I have this weird story from the first time I visited the voodoo capital of the United States.

You know. Mother effing NOLA, New Orleans, for those not familiar with the lingo.

You've got to be familiar if you're here.

You got to. In June of 2015, I'd moved to the devil's butt crack of Memphis, Tennessee. to be with my fiance.

He was there for work and I had to finish my master in special education back in Colorado.

But I graduated and can move. Yay. Also, what a great human you are.

Yeah. So this is not a comment about Memphis being a butt crack of a place, but rather a comment of how out of this world fucking hot it is.

This girl's dainty Colorado skin can't handle the humidity or the heat.

So I hope you understand the implications of moving to the south in the summer.

I couldn't imagine. both of us would very much not imagine we're new englanders we understand we're pale new englanders at that Well, after a month in July, for those of you not paying attention to the timeline. of trying to adjust to this buttcrack heat and a neighbor and his girlfriend talk us into spending a week in NOLA with them.

This seemed like a great idea. I was a few drinks down the good old gullet and chest deep in the complex pool.

The heat wasn't really something I was considering.

The heat, however, would come to be the reason I'm uncertain whether or not voodoo is real. or if I have a food allergy.

Maybe you can help me decide? Let's do it.

Okay. So after a nighttime drive. I worked out really well.

Okay. So after a nighttime drive from Memphis to NOLA, we checked into the hotel room. that we were sharing with friends, you know, because even as full on grown ass adults, we found it more important to save money than have our own privacy.

Another mistake. Anyway, we wake up early and head to the French Quarter to stuff our hungry faces with those powdered sugar-covered balls of fried heaven, a.k.a.

Beignets. Quick note, I spent about 10 minutes trying to spell that correctly.

I get you. Well, it was 10 AM and I was already sweating more than I care to admit.

Let's just say I sweat like a man. Always have, always will.

And it's my biggest regret. Ha ha ha. i digress you can get botox in your armpits there you go the ash is life tips yeah so So I was sweating a lot and I should have known that when I was going to when I was going too long for any sort of reprieve from this death air. as we walked around.

So we ended up walking in and out of stores where I would go find the vent of the AC and stand under it Well I tried to tame the sweat pouring off my head.

Did I mention I sweat like a man? But it also meant we would find ourselves in a few different bars and restaurants trying different foods and sucking down a beer and water to cool off.

I get it. Beer is kind of counterproductive, but whatever.

I do what I want. I love that. I do what I want.

Fuck off. Amazing. So about halfway through the day, I find myself desperately needing cool air.

And then I see it. a voodoo store, one of the main ones near the actual French Quarter.

So being a fellow weirdo and lover of AHS's coven, hell yeah, another mention...

I decide to make everyone stop in and check out the scene.

I try to be open-minded about things, so I was curious to see how this place made me feel.

When I walked in, I was thoroughly impressed with the AC situation.

I'd give it a solid B+. Then I was mesmerized by what I saw.

It was dark, but not scary dark. And it was full of heads. which typically would make me feel weird, but in this scenario, I was intrigued.

I was walking around the male part of the couple we were with goes...

Hey, Amy, is this you in your best? Oh, excuse me.

I didn't realize that was with a Southern drawl.

You had to say. Hey Amy, is this you? We just offended so many people.

But we love you so much. We do. In your best deep southern drawl, southern accent, he is from Tennessee. and starts stabbing a voodoo doll in the stomach with the supplied pin. six times.

Why the fuck would he do that? We both giggle and continually looking around the store that's not silly after about 30 minutes and dozens of oh my god look at this statements I cooled down enough to move on i've i'd have happily stayed there for longer but we needed to make our way back to the hotel to get ready for our night on bourbon street woo party oh i've seen those too TikTok.

So we leave and make our way down to where we parked and halfway there I decided I wanted a beer.

Really, I just wanted to cool down. So we stopped by a restaurant with a huge sign advertising their raw oyster plate or plate.

Fuck yes. Yes, 12 slimy fresh oysters to consume while we enjoy our beer and water.

Another fucking mistake. That's not a mistake.

I'm getting to try new foods and oysters didn't seem so bad to me because I love sushi.

So what the hell? Why not? My fiance and I cheers to eating oysters.

Our friends were smart and decided against it.

And we slurped them down one at a time until all 12 were gone.

Okay, they weren't horrible, but I'm not going to say swallowing down a large loogie textured thing is an easy task.

I've never been able to handle what they look like. among my favorite things in the world.

And Drew loves oysters too. I like made him love oysters.

And we were going to have oysters at the wedding, but we can't because my uncle has a seafood allergy.

And it's like fatal. Like a fatal seafood allergy.

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That's betterhelp.com slash morbid. Well, luckily I'm down with some cocktail sauce and onions, so I was able to do my part and eat six of them.

We guzzled down our beers and life was good.

I was ready to brave the devil's ball sack.

For some reason, I imagine ball sacks to be hotter than butt cracks, and NOLA is hotter than Memphis, but I will never really know because I have a vagina.

You worked that out. Your train of thought is my favorite thing ever.

It's also like weirdly relatable. Just working through it as we go.

And as we get to the car, something doesn't feel right.

I passed it off that I drank my beer too fast and I just need to digest.

But boy, was I mistaken. We stop off at the gas station to grab some hydration to have before we head out for the night.

And as we were checking out, something happens.

I get that, oh my God, I'm going to shit my pants feeling.

I managed to get myself to the hotel room and bust open the door just in time to...

Shit my brains out. Remember how we wanted to save money and share a room?

Well, this is when I realized we made that mistake.

I washed my hands, splashed water on my face, and head out of the room to giggle with everyone about the noises that were coming from the bathroom while I was in there.

I bet it probably didn't even have a fan.

You know, when you have to go in the bathroom and like have a quiet moment and you're like, ooh, fan.

Ooh, a fan. That probably didn't have a fan.

So disappointing when the fan not there yeah I had decided halfway through the situation that I needed no pride haha Our male friend decided he would go take his shower and then go fill up his truck with gas while the rest of us got ready.

Well, as he was showering, I got the, oh no, I'm going to spew everywhere feeling. and I had to bust in the bathroom to get to the toilet before my stomach contents ended up on the floor.

Hotel rooms aren't overly convenient for someone who needs to barf Just saying.

No, they're really not. I apologize and head back to the bed and the realization sinks in that I'm a miss out on bourbon. street and replace that fun with barfing slash pooping for the rest of the night.

For six hours, I alternated between throwing up and shitting my brains out.

For the record, that's six stabs into the Amy Voodoo doll, six oysters, and six hours of barfing and shitting.

Strange? Me think so. I'm gonna have to agree.

I gotta say that's weird. So our friends get back from the bars just as I'm starting to feel better.

And I actually wake up feeling better than their partying asses.

Well, it was time to head back to Memphis, so we pack our shit and leave.

It wasn't until we were driving back that it started to click for me.

Our fucking friend could have cursed me with that voodoo doll.

But then I remember that this wasn't the first time I had oysters. that this wasn't the first time I had oysters.

And I ended up throwing up that night, too.

It has been a bit of a blur due to the wine consumption.

So here I am wondering for the rest of my life whether it was voodoo or a food allergy that made me sick that night.

I have no intention of finding out if oysters make me sick.

And honestly, I'm not upset about not putting one of those things in my mouth again.

So I suppose we will never know. But what do you think?

Voodoo or food allergy? I'm going with what I said in the beginning, a combination of both.

Yeah, a combo of both, I would say. Thank you for reading my story about barfing and shitting.

Every day you can put that in a story and assume it won't offend anyone.

If this story taught me anything, it's don't fucking go anywhere in the South during the summer.

It's too fucking hot and weird things happen.

We move back to Colorado and I must say my dainty Colorado skin's been much happier.

I love the south, many great things are there, but prefer less oxygen due to high altitude and dry air.

I hope this finds you ladies with abundance of awesomeness because let's face it, you deserve it.

For how many people of you have helped through this effing pandemic with your podcast?

Love you guts. My Aussie friends say that to me, and I think I'm cool like them, so now I say it too.

I love that Aussie people say that. Yeah.

Because I say that. You do say that. I love that.

So keep. it weird but not so weird you sweat your ass off try to escape the heat by using stores ac uh let me say that again yeah you gotta start you can't stop no But not so weird you sweat your ass off, try to escape the heat by using stores for their AC, drink beer, even though it's against your better judgment, go to a voodoo stop to have a...

Fuck. All right. You got to do it. I fucked it up.

So keep it weird, but not somewhere that you sweat your ass off.

Try to escape the heat by using their stores for their.

Oh, see, I fucked up too. Let me try one more time.

Something's happening here. Hold on, let me try one more time. so keep it weird but not somewhere that you sweat your ass off try to escape the heat by using stores for their ic drink beer even though it's against your better judgment, go to a voodoo shop to have a voodoo doll if you stab six times, eat six oysters, trying to cool down.

And then barf and poop for six hours as a result of one of those two other things.

Boom. We did it. But why was that so hard?

I don't know. One last note. I've still never been to Bourbon Street.

Cheers. I think that Bourbon Street, I don't know if I would go there.

I think Bourbon Street... is like a daytime activity.

Yeah, not a nighttime activity. I think at night, from what I hear, I'm sitting here speaking like I've been there Me too.

From what I've heard, it gets a little gnarly at night.

Yeah. Well, from what I've seen, like if you've ever seen a TikTok of Bourbon Street at night.

Yeah. You don't want to end up on a TikTok on Bourbon Street.

Nah, you definitely don't want to do that.

No. So I think that's like a daytime activity.

A daytime activity. activity I don't know I'm officially malfunctioning now so it's the end of the episode so there we are so guys that was like our fun new orleans episode i loved it there was like less crazy, you know, like this wasn't like a super like murderous episode or anything like that.

But man, there was some scary ghosts in this one.

And there was some fun hitchhiking adventures.

And poop is always scary. Impossible voodoo curse. yeah so definitely scary there we go this was a fun one it was so we hope you keep listening and we hope you keep it Weird, but not so weird that you don't write us in another tale about a listener story in New Orleans because I really just want you to keep doing that and I don't know why I said it like an Irish woman.

Thank you so much. I was just going I was gonna say she said New Orleans.

I've been watching a lot of Below Deck. I liked that a lot.

New Orleans. New Orleans. Forever. Ashley.

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The town of Agde in France is famous for sun, sand, sea and sex.

But lately, life on the coast has taken a strange turn.

The town's mayor, a respected pillar of the community, has been arrested for corruption.

His wife claims he's been bewitched by a beautiful clairvoyant.

Then there's the mysterious phone calls that local people have been getting.

I am the Archangel Michael. The whole town has been thrown into chaos.

As the mayor is unable to carry out his duties, I would like to address you all.

Legal proceedings have been initiated. Join me, Anna Richardson, and journalist Leo Schick for The Mystic and the Mayor as we investigate a story of power, corruption, Binge all episodes of The Mystic and the Mare exclusively and ad-free right now on Wondery Plus.

Start your free trial in Apple Podcasts Spotify or the Wondery app

[Morbid 팟캐스트: 뉴올리언스의 기묘한 이야기와 청취자들의 경험담]-[Listener Tales 40 New Orleans Edition!]

📋 Summary

뉴올리언스 테마의 기묘한 이야기(Listener Tales)

1. 세 명의 '부티리셔스(Bootylicious)' 소녀들과 명예 백인 남성

2. 귀신이 사는 집과 뜯겨나간 천장 선풍기

3. Charity Hospital의 잊혀진 대량 무덤

4. 히치하이킹과 '체인소(Chainsaw)' 그리고 코카인 딜러

5. 부두교의 저주인가, 굴 알레르기인가?

결론

🎯Key Sentences

📝Key Phrases

📖 Transcript