Sometimes, you realize just how very lucky you are.
I didn’t figure it out at first, eighteen months ago, when I was invited to come and spend the night in a former hospital (the old Tooele Valley Hospital) in Utah, at the invitation of the owners, Kimm and Cami Andersen and Dusty Kingston. It was an unremarkable night, barely registering on the scale as far as paranormal activity was concerned; but we had made the mistake of visiting off-season, when the place was as quiet as the proverbial grave.
The Andersens and Dusty kindly invited us back for five more days, over the Halloween week of 2015. The place crawled with paranormal activity, so much so that Cami and I were able to write an entire book around those events. But that’s not what this blog post is about. I’ve written about the hauntings before, and I’ll write more later. Tonight I want to write about the view from my desk, which is set up in the parking lot of Asylum 49. In between signing books and working on the inevitable sequel, I’ve done a lot of people watching, and let me tell you…I’m as impressed as all hell.
I’ve visited the London Dungeon, and they’re not a patch on this place. Never mind the slick, run purely for profit professional haunts; Asylum 49 is the product of one of the most wonderful dysfunctional families I’ve ever seen, let alone be privileged to be a part of (the Colorado crew is fiercely proud to call ourselves members of the Asylum 49 extended family).
The performers here put their hearts and souls into every night of the haunt, screaming, shrieking, and yelling at their customers…so much so that I am amazed that they have voices left at the end of the night.
Phantom doctors soaked in gore pull people out of the crowd, chase them around the parking lot while wielding chainsaws, and drag them kicking and screaming back into the haunt. For the most part, the customers love every minute of it and come back for more. Asylum 49 is a full contact haunted house, which means that the performers can lay hands on you if you dare to step inside…and they will. Count on it.
Being fortunate enough to get a look behind the scenes, I can tell you that this place is an absolute labor of love. The makeup artists work hard to serve the assembly line of blood splatter, prosthetics, and latex that turn everyday people into horrific monsters. The performers themselves dive into their characters with gusto (most have created and auditioned their own) and it shows. They work tirelessly to scare seventeen types of shit out of their charges (sometimes literally — don’t ask) and then come right back the next day and do it all over again.
Standing there last night in front of the performers’ green room, watching the parade of kids of all ages come through, I couldn’t help but wonder what else they might be doing on a Friday or Saturday night without Asylum 49 around to fire their imagination and capture their interest. The chances are that it would be a great deal less wholesome. And while some might say that demonic doctors and mutilated fake corpses smacks of the evil or satanic, I can only say that you need to look beneath the surface a little. I’ve watched a lot of surrogate parenting taking place here, whether it is adults shepherding kids on their creative journey or older kids serving as big brothers and sisters to the younger ones.
I’m blown away by just how much of a positive impact Asylum 49 has on the children of this community. If anything, I’m a little jealous that there was nothing like Asylum 49 for me to gravitate towards back when I was a kid. This place…this family…is something truly special, a genuine band of plucky brothers and sisters that have a big heart and way, WAY too much blood to share.
I love this place. I love these people. What they are doing here is truly special, and I feel privileged to be a part of it, no matter how small.
Long live Asylum 49.
Love you guys 🙂
