It's a fine line . . .

[feliciakw]

There's a fine line between courage and stupidity, and I feel like I came dangerously close to crossing it today.

I had to open the creepy theater for a tour this morning. Bear in mind that when I open the the dark, dilapidated theater, I'm by myself. Creepy theater is creepy, made creepier by the gloomy weather. So I unlocked the front door and went in to turn on the breaker panel, like I always do . . . and the door next to the breaker panel--leading to the outside alleyway--was standing open. Which, it shouldn't be. It totally shouldn't be. Yes, I was a bit freaked.

So I came back to the office and called my boss with the intention of asking if any of our workmen had been in the building recently and maybe forgot to close that door (which, yeah, highly unlikely that they would forget, thankyouverymuch). In the back of my mind, I'm thinking, yeah, I'll give whoever is lurking in the building the chance to get out, seeing as how they know someone is coming in since I turned on all the breaker lights. But Boss Lady didn't answer her phone, so I left a message and went back to finish turning on the rest of the lights.

So I go back in and find a bolt with which to lock the hasp on the open door. And I realize, huh. This door can only be opened from the inside. In theory. Ookay.

So I go up to the second floor, up the most well lit stairway (because, dude, courage vs. stupidity), and when I get to the second floor landing, I find a water bottle has been left at the foot of the stairs up to the projection booth, which is my next stop. Oookay. So someone has been up here and left a water bottle.

I skirt around the water bottle (don't touch the evidence, right?), and climb up to the projection booth, where the fuse panel is that I have to turn a fuse to turn on the house lights. So I do that, watching the house to make sure that . . . well, whatever. Nothing and no one that shouldn't be there is there, or whatever.

So I go back to the main floor and venture into the house (auditorium, for those not familiar with theater lingo). And this being an old building, and having water leakage issues, and us having had a lot of rain recently, the front of house right has a huge pond-like puddle, and the rain is dripping on the seats. Okay. I expect the sounds of dripping water. This is okay. This is to be expected.

I move quickly to the front of the house and go up on stage to turn on the footlights. Only it's so dark (because doors have been shut to keep critters from flying into the building) that I can't see the switches to turn on.

Now, at this point you might be asking why I don't have a flashlight. In all honesty, I probably should have. But I kinda don't want shadows freaking me out, and I turn on the lights in the order of the rooms I'll be entering, so I don't usually carry one. Courage? Stupidity? You decide.

So I fumble around in the dark for the switches and I eventually find them, turn everything on that will turn on, and move quickly out of the theater.

Should I have gone back in? Um . . . probably not. I know it would have driven our cop friend nuts for me to have gone back in alone. Courage? Stupidity? It's a fine line.

When I started working here in 2007, I'd just left the PAC. I still felt a connection, however tenuous, to my co-workers in Ohio. I don't feel that anymore. And with that disconnect, I've kind of lost one of my steadying thought processes, which was to envision "Mack" or Tall Tech Guy or even Tech Director working somewhere in the building. They don't come to mind as readily anymore. Not as readily as the thought of someone else being in the theater (which we think we had last year), or turning a corner and being confronted by a trapped pigeon (very startling. Think Hitchcock).

I'm also increasingly frustrated by the delays we experience in getting this renovation under way. I won't get into that particular gripe right now though.

So. In conclusion: creepy theater is creepy.

In other news, I forgot to pack the chocolate pudding I was looking forward to with my lunch. *iz sad*

Comments

[kimmer1227.livejournal.com]

Just face it. You're the bravestest fangurl EVA! The Boys would be proud of your sheer stupidity...I mean courage.

I'm a firm believer in trusting your instincts. Your spidey senses didn't twich, so all was well in the universe. Still...

I'm so with you on flashlights sometimes making things worse. My stubborn cat refused to come in one night. I would have left him out overnight but it was supposed to rain. He's pretty much trapped in the yard 'cos he can't get over the fence, but likes to hide in the bushes. I'm mumbling to myself as I grab the flashlight in my PJ's and head out in the backyard, cussing and avoiding dog poop. I got his ass, but was not a happy camper. Creepy shadows are creepy.

[feliciakw.livejournal.com]

The thing that's happened in the theater that freaked me out the most--to the point I was shaking--was hearing strange whispery noises that turned out to be a couple of pigeons loose in the balcony.

Also the time when I turned a corner and found a pigeon perched atop one of the doors.

Ya just never know what you're gonna find in that building. *nervous smile*

[kimmer1227.livejournal.com]

The thing that's happened in the theater that freaked me out the most--to the point I was shaking--was hearing strange whispery noises that turned out to be a couple of pigeons loose in the balcony.

This reminds me of Korea where I worked in this old refurbished hangar. It was extrememly echoey and gloomy. We were a 24hr Ops Center, and night shifts were single controller. I HATED being in there at night. Talk about strange noices. The Ops desk was on this overhead kinda unit thingy, and you had to go up these creepy winding stairs. Man, I dreaded being alone in that place, especially if it was windy.

[shadow-of-doubt.livejournal.com]

Forget the flashlights. Carry salt with you!!!!

[feliciakw.livejournal.com]

Seriously! Where, I ask you, is the rock salt when I need it?

[feliciakw.livejournal.com]

We're good. *gives the Dean thumbs-up sign* And I don't have to close up today, since it turns out the tour isn't until after I leave. So yay for that.

I wonder how I'm gonna explain the duffle with the salt, holy water, and iron fire poker the next time I have to go in the theater. Heh.

[izhilzha.livejournal.com]

Dude, yes, that's fairly creepy. O_o If that door only opens from the inside does that mean someone got him/herself locked in there yesterday?

[feliciakw.livejournal.com]

Honestly, I have no idea. I just asked our main work guy about it, and he said they haven't been in the building in weeks. o.O

The thing is--and you've seen the building--it's not very secure at all. Not for someone whose mind is set on getting in. I--and the cop we were going through the building with--was very disturbed to find one of the boarded up windows propped open last summer when we thought someone was "living" in the basement.

Someone getting themselves locked in is just . . . weird . . .

So, yeah. It's a little creepy.

[kalquessa.livejournal.com]

The nice thing about mag lights is that not only do they shed lots of light, they make wonderful blunt instruments as well. *grin* I always found carrying one very comforting. My dad's was named Druidsbane. Long story.

*sends you rock salt and Winchesters to counteract creep theater*

[feliciakw.livejournal.com]

I do have a mag light, but it's a little one, like tech people use to see backstage. I need one that can double as a blunt instrument, as you so astutely point out.

Will gladly accept Winchesters to accompany into the creepy theater. :-)

[leelust.livejournal.com]

Man, even read about it is creepy. I'd run outside (well, home) only seeing open door. No way i'd go to the next floor.

[feliciakw.livejournal.com]

Heh. Oh, if I had my choice, I wouldn't go in there by myself. But my boss kind of laughs at me anyway, especially when she found out that I lock the door behind me so people can't come in off the streets when I'm in there by myself.

'Cause, ya know, I gotta put on that brave face, right?

And, hey, welcome back. I hope this means things are looking up for you.