My run-in with a ghost

Reminiscing about high school shenanigans, I cannot gloss over my supernatural encounter during a Spanish Club field trip to San Antonio.

Our intrepid leader, Mrs. Emma Blackburn, booked us rooms in the historic Menger Hotel downtown, within a stone's throw of the Alamo and the River Walk.

At check-in, the lady at the counter warned us that the hotel was supposedly haunted.

According to the tale, a chamber maid had been murdered in one of the upstairs rooms and her sad specter was doomed to roam the halls looking for the long-gone perpetrator.

Needless to say, this is the sort of thing that inspires mischief, and a group of us was determined to find that ghost.

So, after curfew, we organized a posse of sorts and began roaming around the labyrinth of hallways. Inevitably, our group broke-up and went in different directions, and I eventually found myself negotiating one of those hallways all by myself.

As I turned a corner, a woman in a flowing robe appeared at the other end of the corridor. She was walking--more like staggering--straight for me, with her arms extended.

Bravery went out the window at this point, and I did a quick about-face. Bounding down a stairwell in search of the rest of the posse, I lost my footing and took quite a tumble. I'm still not sure how exactly I was able to make it back to my room.

The next morning, my ankle was the size of a grapefruit. And, poor Mrs. Blackburn had to take me to a doctor to have it checked out and get me a pair of crutches.

I never did find out for sure if that woman I saw was in fact a ghost, though I was assured by my peeved Spanish teacher that it was probably just another hotel guest looking for an ice machine or something.

I guess I'll never know for sure. But, my ankle's never been right since . . .