I slip inside the front door of the Menger Hotel, unaware of its history and hauntings, for now. I just want to get away from the dusty Texas heat. A trickle of sweat slides down to the small of my back as I am transported to another era, with Victorian-style furniture and old jazz music playing. Two elderly women make their way around the expansive lobby, admiring the period furniture and the pictures of famous guests and Texas elite who have visited the hotel over the years. “Oh, I wish we were staying here,” one of the women says. Like me, they are not guests of the hotel but tourists who have wandered in off the crowded street. Her friend shakes her white-haired head emphatically. “Not me. This place is haunted.” The first woman flashes a wicked, age-defying grin. “I might find a boyfriend.”
-Narratively
