How to Travel by Air when Air Travel is Sucky

Traveling by air right now sucks. You know it's bad when mainstream media outlets, who have no shortage of stories to cover in the present, have dedicated time in their primetime slots to talking about it. 

Now, we could debate about why so many flights are being delayed or canceled, and whether or not airlines are intentionally selling flights they know they can't make, but this article isn't about the industry. It's about you, the traveler.

I've been flying solo since I was 19 years old, when I regularly flew from Burlington, VT to Rochester for breaks during college. In my 20+ flight experiences prior to 2022, I've experienced only one flight delay. This past summer, two of my flights home were cancelled, and I was lucky not to have my plans severely disrupted by them.

My love of flying and going somewhere new or amazing is worth the hassle...it's just that the hassle is the expectation now, not an exception. It's no excuse to miss out on some amazing travel experiences, especially since we've spent the last two years traveling from San Living Room to Las Bedroom while hiding from Covid. 

So, here are some ways to survive the hassle of flight delays, cancellations, and the civil aviation ecosystem as a whole, whether you're a frequent flyer or have never flown before. 

Let's start with some pre-flight stuff:

1. Pack Smart

Before you even think about heading to the airport, think about how you've packed. I'm not talking about how you've sorted the books you intend to read, how you fold your clothes, or remembering your electric toothbrush. 

Consider purchasing tags or some kind of identifier to clip to your bags in case they get lost, especially if you checked them at the airport rather than carried them on the plane. Include information like your address, name, and phone number so airport or airline officials can contact you. 

Keep important items like wallets, cell phones, printed boarding passes, and your passport in your pockets or carry-on luggage. If your miss your flight for any reason after you've checked that bag, it's going to your destination without you. Guess she's just not that into you, fam.

Note that sometimes, because of the size of the plane and the amount of people on board, you might be asked to leave carry-on luggage at the bottom of the jet bridge to be stowed beneath the plane. Ask the gate agent if your bag might be too big to carry on, and make sure you've taken everything out that you might need during flight. Or, do what I do; pretend you didn't hear them and bring it on anyway. The worst that can happen is that there isn't room, and they make you take it the jet bridge anyway.

2. Download your airline's app (and check in as early as possible!)

Unless you're flying with some really small, obscure airline, your carrier will have an app you can download. The app has all kinds of nifty features, allowing you to download a digital boarding pass, check-in, change seats, etc.

It will also update you on the status of your flight. If your flight is cancelled or delayed, the app should provide you rebooking options.

While we're talking about the app...make sure to check-in as early as possible! Though overbooking flights isn't quite as common as it used to be in the digital age, it can still happen. You can check-in up to 24 hours before your flight, and I would do it at or around then to further guarantee you a seat.

3. Arrive Early

It's good practice to get to the airport at least two hours before your flight departs. It's not like a bus station where you can walk up right when the bus is hissing and lowering to the ground. You might need to check your bag and leave it at the airline counter. Then you have to get through TSA, which is typically smooth, but you never know (this deserves its own article). Then, depending on the size of the airport, it might take you a long time to walk to your gate (looking at you, Miami).

On top of all of that, you can't just arrive at your gate when your flight is scheduled to depart. Boarding begins ~30 minutes before departure, and the gate closes ~15 minutes before departure. Once that door closes, there's no opening it. It's one of those secret rules of air travel, so make sure you can do the math and get to your gate at the appropriate time.

If you end up having a little too much extra time, go get dinner, catch up on your reading, tune in to whatever mainstream media outlet you allow to brainwash you. It's better than running through an airport with your lungs on fire.

Okay, you're in your seat. 

You're reading the menu card front to back out of boredom, you're sweating because the AC doesn't work...but you're on the plane. Good work! 

But what if you're sitting there when you get a text through the airline app, saying your connecting flight to Podunk is cancelled? What if the flight you're on has been delayed, and you'll have a very limited window to get to your next gate? What if you're not on the plane through no fault of your own, but because that flight was cancelled?

Well, it's time to buckle in because this is where you're gonna need your air travel smarts. 

If you want to minimize this risk, though, here are the best ways to avoid delays and/or cancellations in the first place:

4. Fly Direct

When you fly direct, delays just mean getting there a bit later than scheduled. If your outgoing flight is cancelled, you can just drive home (if your returning flight is cancelled, skip to #6). You also don't have to worry about missing connecting flights. If you live near a big airport like New York-JFK or Atlanta, it's easier to find a direct flight to where you want to go, whether your destination is domestic or international.

If you're flying out of a smaller airport like Rochester or Syracuse, your options for direct flights are likely limited to hub airports, or airports where airlines like to concentrate their flights. Unless your destination is one of these exciting hub cities, which are usually places like Philadelphia, New York, or Washington, you will probably have to get a connection if you're flying to another small airport, a different coast, or internationally. 

5. Catch an early flight

Yeah, nobody is a fan of getting up at 4 in the morning to rush through TSA and sit in an overcrowded airport, but earlier flights are less likely to be delayed or outright cancelled. According to Travel + Leisure airspace is less crowded in the morning, meaning there are fewer headaches for air traffic controllers than in the afternoon and evening, when planes build up and wait for departure. 

If an early flight is delayed or cancelled, you'll also have more options for rebooking later in the day.

What to do if a delay will impact travel/your flight is cancelled:

6. See what your rebooking options are

Remember that airline app you downloaded? It should provide you a list of flights either the same day or the next that you can rebook to at no extra cost (do NOT pay extra - if it tries to make you, check out hint #7. You shouldn't have to pay anything to get on a rebooked flight).

If it would greatly inconvenience you to fly out the next day, see if you can fly to an airport near your final destination. For example, if your flight to Syracuse is cancelled, you might be able to fly to Rochester, Ithaca, or Watertown (yeah, they have an airport). 

7. Speak to an airline representative (and get some compensation for the disruption to your plans)

Face-to-face interaction is typically the best and quickest way to get things done. 

Your mission is simple: track down your gate agent or the customer service desk, tell them exactly what happened, where you need to be, and ask them the best way to get there. 

If this isn't possible for some reason, you might have to go through your carrier's call center. Little known air travel fact: American carriers typically have international call lines that are usually quicker than the domestic one. Same MO as above: tell them what happened, where you need to be, and ask the best way to get there. 

Once you've got a gameplan, ask about compensation. Even if you aren't inconvenienced by a change in plans, airlines typically offer incentives like miles, money, or a travel voucher. If you're forced to stay the night in a different city, definitely ask about compensation for a hotel room. 

Sadly, airlines aren't required to do this according to the USDOT, unless the flight is overbooked. In fact, on my trip to Alabama earlier this summer, the airline I flew with was literally telling people to walk into Philadelphia and hope they got lucky with a hotel. 

If all else fails and nobody is willing to help you, a snarky Twitter post tagging the airline will certainly get their attention. 

8. Stay Calm, Be Friendly and Flexible

The most universal advice I can give you about traveling is that on the long list of things that can go wrong, at least one of them will. It's just part of the deal.

If you're flying home, don't get it in your head that you will be in your bed that night. If you're flying to Tampa, don't wear your bathing suit on the plane. If you're flying to Chile in the summer months, keep that parka parked. 

My point with all this is: don't expect everything to go perfectly, because it won't.

If you go into the airport with this mindset, you can be ready and flexible for anything that comes your way. Always be friendly with airport and airline staff: they are constantly being screamed at and treated like less than dirt, both by their employers and travelers. The more friendly you are, the more patient and willing they will be to help you. 

Sometimes, they're jerks. That's their problem, not yours. 

It's also important to extend that courtesy to other travelers. Not only will you make some new friends; you might still be able to get to where you want to go.

When my flight back to Syracuse was cancelled earlier in the month, the goal was to rent a car from Albany airport and drive home. It wasn't until we were taxiing to the runway on my rebooked flight that I learned Albany had no rental cars available (yeah, that's another thing to be ready for). Thankfully, I had struck up a friendship with a woman who also needed to get to Syracuse, and had a ride there.

Long story short, I made it home that night. Accepting uncertainty and showing kindness won't just get you far at the terminal, but in life.

With all of this said...

Please, don't let travel uncertainty hold you back from taking the trip of a lifetime. Ashoka Tano, the great grey Jedi, once said: "nothing worth doing is ever easy." Find your destination and get out there!

Beyond the Veil: Rolling Hills Asylum

Beyond the Veil: Rolling Hills Asylum

Last year, in my piece about the Palmyra Historical Museum, I asked the question: what happens when we die?

This Halloween, I ask a different question: what is fear? It’s like our gene expression, or perhaps our alcohol tolerance; it’s different for everyone. 

What frightens you? Is it the shadow that moved on its own? Or is it something more concrete, like the thought of being late to work? Regardless, nobody should have to live in fear like the residents of Rolling Hills Asylum. Abandoned. Left to rot for reasons beyond their control.

The patients of Rolling Hills Asylum in East Bethany, NY didn’t just live in fear; they bathed in it, slept in it, drank and ate it. Today, the spirits of those tortured dead keep the dark history of the Asylum alive, exposing horrors far greater, far deeper than mere bumps in the night.

A History of the Facility:

The Rolling Hills Asylum began as the Genesee County Poor Farm.

When you think of a haunted place, you think of a place that was built with good intentions, only to see tragedy, neglect, or acts of evil that leave spiritual stains on the place.

The Rolling Hills Asylum was never built with good intentions in mind.

The Genesee County Poor Farm broke ground in early 1827. Yes, there were actually places called “poor farms” back in the day, George Carlin be damned. The Genesee County Poor Farm housed some of New York’s “undesirables” (read: people the county didn’t want to take care of) such as orphaned children, destitute elderly,  the physically and mentally handicapped, habitual drunkards, and others who were unable to take care of themselves. 

Perhaps the most controversial inmates were unwed women. In those days, if a woman talked back to her spouse or requested a divorce, her butthurt husband could institutionalize her with no questions asked. It’s believed hundreds, perhaps thousands, of unwed women with complete possession of their mental faculties were locked up here.

Over time, more interesting clientele took up residence in the facility, including lunatics and people cited for misconduct.  A separate solitary confinement branch was opened here, in order to keep these people isolated from the other inmates. 

As you can imagine, the 200-acre facility housed many needy people. This might instantiate images of starving people crowding the halls in your mind, but the place was actually relatively self-sufficient. Physically-able residents would work the farm, raising animals such as chickens, pigs, horses, etc, while others would can fruits, vegetables, and meat. 

Hundreds of people died within the Asylum’s walls over its century of operation, but with no family or loved ones to claim them, many were buried in unmarked graves around the property. A single monument in the nearby Genesee County Park is the only tribute to these tortured souls.

Though the Poor Farm would close in 1974, it continues to stand as a stark reminder of how we treated the destitute in those early days.

Ghost Experiences: 

The Shadow Hallway. A mysterious darkness sometimes envelops the end of the hall.

The Rolling Hills Asylum is considered one of the most haunted places in the world, and is it any wonder? As the Palmyra Historical Museum is any indicator, ghosts exist to tell their life stories even after they have passed, and with the thousands of colorful characters that passed through the Asylum in its heyday, there’s no shortage of stories to tell. 

The most popular spot in the building for seeing ghosts is the Shadow Hallway on the second floor. Here, shadows and apparitions peek out of rooms, walk back and forth, and have even been reported to crawl along the floor. Perhaps the strangest phenomenon reported here is the encroaching darkness itself.

“Sometimes, the entire hallway gets blacked out,” said Gina Bengston, a veteran ghost hunter and host of Ghostly Excursions. The end of the hallway is typically bathed in the red glow of an exit sign, but the darkness can even block that light out. It’s not known why this happens, but it’s frightening nevertheless.

One notable resident of this hallway is Roy. In the 1800’s, Roy was a resident of the poor farm who suffered from gigantism, a disease of the pituitary gland that causes abnormal growth. By age 12, Roy was almost seven feet tall, and his family had him committed out of embarrassment. His hulking shadow has been captured on film throughout the building.
Apparently, Roy has also taken a liking to the owner of the Asylum, Sharon Coyle. During her final walkthrough one night, Coyle saw a rat that caused her to scream and flee the building. The next day, the rat was found in the same part of the building, dead. There was a bloody handprint on the wall near its corpse; Sharon claims the handprint belongs to Roy, who killed the rat for her.

Another interesting room off the Shadow Hallway is the Portal Room. Mediums who have visited the property claim the room contains a portal to another dimension, and as you can expect, many bizarre things have happened here. A woman was photographed here on a ghost hunt, and a strange green shape was seen hovering above her shoulder in the photo. Further analysis revealed a baby’s head, which prompted the woman to make a chilling confession; she had a miscarriage years before.

On the top floor are two notable rooms; the Organ Room and Nurse Emma’s Room. The Organ Room is where a doctor named George Flemming passed away from a stroke. His spirit is said to growl at visitors, but that’s only because the stroke paralyzed his vocal cords; he’s one of the friendliest spirits in the Asylum. 

Nurse Emma has an unfortunate reputation. On Ghost Adventures, she was depicted as an abusive nurse who practiced black magic, a story that would later inspire the film Grave Encounters. In reality, Nurse Emma was a strict disciplinarian, but by no means was she evil. The owner of the Asylum, Sharon Coyle, has had to defend her reputation on several occasions.

“Nurse Emma is NOT evil,” she posted on the Rolling Hills Asylum Facebook page in 2015. “She did not practice satanic rituals. She was a Baptist, and is buried in a local Baptist cemetery.” 

Men are nevertheless asked to declare themselves before entering her room. Why only men? Because back in the day, it would be a major faux pas to enter a women’s changing area without asking. Correct me if I’m wrong...but I think that still applies today.

Most visitors concur that Nurse Emma is not the monster she’s painted out to be. Another character in the building, however, is still a rather divisive figure. In the basement resides Raymond, a maintenance man for the building in life, who many believe abused the female residents of the asylum. In the same Facebook post from 2015, Coyle defended Raymond (first name “John”) from claims that he had been a pedophile in life. Many historians and ghost hunters, however, disagree. Many believe his spirit pushes people around who enter his room.

Also in the basement is the morgue, complete with an embalming table. People who lay on this table and ask for a nurse’s help may report the sensation of being touched or operated on. There is a Christmas Room, where the spirits of children will laugh and move toys around.

There are so many rooms and notable spirits in the Asylum, it would be impossible to describe them all in one post.

My Investigation:

This image was NOT captured during my investigation; it was taken by an employee of the asylum back in 2017. This is believed to be the apparition of Roy.

The drive up to Rolling Hills Asylum doesn’t prepare you at all. The vast farmland and rolling hills (from which the Asylum got its name) of Genesee County, combined with the cool September air wafting through the open car window, put me at ease and lulled me into a false sense of security. After driving through the quiet village of Bethany, I began to wonder where in the endless expanse of Oz-like country an insane asylum could possibly be, when suddenly, as I reached the top of the hill where Routes 15 and 49 meet, there it was. 

Even in a vacuum, the place has an unsettling vibe. It rises from the flat fields of corn like a grotesque shadow, a single cupola clawing at the sky. I got serious concentration camp vibes from the exterior, which was more than enough to give me the heebie-jeebies. 

Once inside, however, I felt strangely cozy. The entrance was decorated with no one holiday in mind. There was a Christmas tree in the entrance hall, Halloween decor in the gift shop, and Leprechaun Hats in some of the downstairs hallways. We were taken into the gift shop to sign waivers, and I finally got to meet the owner, Sharon Coyle. She is ruthlessly dedicated to the Asylum, to the point where she sacrificed her marriage and cushy film career in California to be the caretaker. No food or drink is allowed outside of the gift shop area, lest they attract rats. Residents are expected not to taunt the spirits or perform rituals. 

Coyle keeps a tight ship, which has resulted in some less-than-flattering reviews online, but I personally found no problem with it. 

My night began with Bengston and another paranormal investigator from Texas (whose name sadly escapes me) in the Organ Room. Here, Bengston placed her favorite ghost hunting device, a stuffed fox that measures electromagnetic waves, on the bed. No sooner did she set it down that the thing began to alarm. 

About twenty minutes into our conversation with the spirit, Bengston noticed something strange on her thermal camera. Though I was sitting cross-legged on a chair across from her, the image in her camera was of an older man sitting straight-legged. A trick of the light, or spirit sitting in my lap? We’ll never know for sure…

We next spent an hour in the Shadow Hallway, hoping for an apparition to appear. Though a couple of odd shapes would appear in the doorways throughout the halls, nothing definitive was documented. That didn’t mean strange things didn’t happen, however.

At one point, Bengston asked for one of the spirits to knock to show they were there. A few seconds later, a knock was heard in Roy’s room.

Stranger still, another member of the ghost tour had been standing in the doorway to one of the larger rooms, and reported feeling hands gently nudging her out of the room. I volunteered to stand in the doorway to see if I felt the same thing...and to my surprise, I found it difficult to lean back. It wasn’t a hard push I felt, but rather something that prevented me from leaning back, as if a nurse was gently trying to keep me out of the room.

A trip to the Morgue saw an EMF reader spike to its highest setting on several occasions. The temperature also dropped a considerable five degrees while we were in there. 

No activity was reported in the other rooms in the basement, so the group took one last trip to the Shadow Hallway. Once again, I felt the gentle force on my back, keeping me out of the back room. At one point, something passed by one of the windows in my peripheral vision. Bengston also reported hearing a little girl squealing on her digital recorder during her live EVP review.

Is It Haunted?:

While the paranormal experiences I had in the Rolling Hills Asylum weren’t quite as diverse as the Historic Palmyra Museum, knowing where I was and what had occurred there was more than enough to satiate me. 

Can I personally say the place is haunted?

Strange things definitely happened, but they could easily be explained away. It’s an old building, explaining the knocks and occasional footsteps we may have heard. The pushing sensation on my back wasn’t strong enough to warrant a paranormal explanation, and there was power in the building when the strange EMF readings were recorded. 

The rapid temperature drop and the EVP are a bit more difficult to explain. Nevertheless, there is a strange aura surrounding the Rolling Hills Asylum, even if it isn’t paranormal, no doubt a consequence of the thousands of inhabitants that passed through it in its day.

*The photos used in this blog post are not mine.

WrestleMania Weekend: Why Everyone Should Go to WrestleMania at least once

The Beginning:

I like to say I'm a professional wrestling fan by mistake.

When an episode of WWE Superstars came on in February 2010, I immediately grabbed the remote and tried to tune away, only to realize the batteries were dead. To make things more complicated, I was doing my business in the adjoining bathroom, and wasn't willing to get up to change the channel manually. I was forced to acquiesce.

Instead, I got hooked on it.

Most people got hooked on WWE during the 80's and 90's, when the likes of real-life cartoon characters such as Hulk Hogan, the Ultimate Warrior and Andre the Giant graced their television screen, or during the Attitude Era when r-rated trash talkers like Stone Cold Steve Austin and The Rock traded profanity-laced verbal barbs and engaged in risque activities not seen anywhere else on TV. I got hooked on pro wrestling from a random women's tag team match, of which three of the performers aren't even with the company anymore (if you're curious, the match was between the team of Kelly Kelly and Eve Torres, and the team of Katie Lea Burchill and Alicia Fox).

That one hour episode of WWE Superstars was all it took to make me a lifetime fan.

One thing they talked about throughout the show, and on every other wrestling show I managed to catch the next two months, was how close WrestleMania 26 was. The announcers hyped 'Mania up as the Super Bowl of sports entertainment, and constantly showed clips of the many story-lines that were building up to the "Showcase of the Immortals." I felt anger towards Vince McMahon, who had screwed his opponent Bret Hart over on so many occasions that I looked forward to seeing him get his ass kicked at WrestleMania. I felt sympathy for Edge, who had lost almost a year of his career due to a horrible injury, and seemed unlikely to win his title back from the cold, calculating Chris Jericho. I was fearful for Shawn Michaels, who would be putting his career on the line just to get a match with his eternal rival, the Undertaker.

Though I didn't watch that WrestleMania live, I did buy the DVD later that summer. Every year after that, however, I made sure to tune in on WrestleMania Sunday. I was even one of the first to subscribe to the WWE Network when it debuted in 2014.

In the meantime, wrestling slowly became one of the biggest parts in my life. For seven years, I never missed an episode of Monday Night Raw. I watched SmackDown whenever I could. I made playlists of all my favorite wrestling theme songs, and subscribed to YouTube Channels that posted pay-per-view highlights.

In a way, wrestling was like another member of the family, there for me in good times and bad. The night after my high school graduation was the 2014 Money in the Bank pay-per-view, one of my favorite shows ever. I watched NXT Takeover: Rival, the show that got me hooked on NXT, on the way to my Grandma's calling hours. Summerslam 2015 took place on my 19th birthday, which was also the day I came out of the closet to all of my friends and family.

Despite my love for the WWE and pro wrestling in general, I never in my wildest dreams thought I would go to WrestleMania. I'd gone to a couple of TV tapings and was an ardent supporter of the local wrestling circuits, but the thought of going to a wrestling pay-per-view, let alone the biggest one of the year, seemed ludicrous.

Nine years after that fateful episode of WWE Superstars, I bought my tickets for WrestleMania 35.

The Culmination of a Childhood Dream:

I've been to New York City three or four times, and I always have the time of my life. Even if you're not going for an event, the Big Apple is still something you should put on the bucket list. Both NXT Takeover and WrestleMania were amazing experiences, but I had just as much fun exploring the streets of Manhattan on Saturday, getting lost in the Nintendo World Store and checking out the Empire State Building. Having grown up in a small town in Upstate New York, I'm always overwhelmed by just how much there is to do there.

I'll admit that, from a wrestling standpoint, I was looking more forward to Takeover than 'Mania, and I wasn't disappointed. The show featured just about everything: high flying action (the women's Fatal 4-Way), methodical technical wrestling (the U.K title match), emotional farewells (the end of the tag team title match), and the resolution to one of the longest storylines in NXT history (the rise of Johnny Gargano). Vince McMahon compares his product to a movie-length variety show. If that's the case, then NXT delivered.

I had a blast at Takeover, but worried if WrestleMania would compare. After all, it was going to be a far longer show, and I was already tuckered out after only three hours of fantastic wrestling. How could I stomach seven hours of good to great wrestling?

As my friend and I pulled up to the Meadowlands Sports Complex on the eve of April 7th, however, it finally began to sink in. In many ways, this year's WrestleMania card represented the culmination of my journey as a pro wrestling fan.

I was there in the early days of Kofi Kingston's career, and even as he toiled in the midcard for those nine years I always retained a soft spot for his high-flying abilities and his ability to have good matches with anybody. Now, he had finally worked his way towards the top of the card, preparing for battle against another wrestler I had grown up with: Daniel Bryan.

In another piece I wrote on Cageside, I wrote about how this WrestleMania would feature a healthy amount of fresh talent. Only once I hit publish did I realize that wasn't entirely the case. Batista, Kurt Angle, Triple H, Rey Mysterio...many of the talent towards the top of the card had been wrestling for more than 20 years.

Then again, these were wrestlers who were big in my heyday. Sure, I probably would've lost my mind if Stone Cold Steve Austin, Goldberg, or The Rock showed up, but these names never excited me like Mysterio or Batista. Rey Mysterio was my favorite wrestler during the honeymoon phase of my relationship with the sport, and I had never seen him live. I also had the sense that for Mysterio and some of the other veterans, this WrestleMania could very well have been the last ride. In the end, I was right, for Batista announced his retirement immediately after his match with Triple H. 

And then there was the women's triple threat match. I may not have grown up with the women in this match, but there is something poetic in the fact that the women were going on last. After all, the first match I'd ever seen was a meaningless divas tag team match on a throwaway episode of WWE Superstars. Nine years later, the women wrestlers were anything but afterthoughts. They were the main event. Like my experience growing up with the sport, women's wrestling had come full circle.

When I finally stepped out into that crowded stadium, and I looked out into the sea of wrestling fans, I realized I wasn't alone in fulfilling my dream. 82,265 wrestling fans had come from all over the world that night for the show, and whether they were excited or not, it was hard for all of us in section 316 not to smile and take in the moment.

I've always rejected the notion that wrestling is a "redneck thing." Sure, I had met many awesome blue collar folks that weekend, but I also met people who one would never expect were wrestling fans. Halfway through the show, I found out the two young men sitting next to me were from Belgium. I mentioned I was from upstate New York, since nobody knows where Rochester is. When the one next to me said "Go Bills!," I almost fell out of my chair.

The show itself was fun, but sharing in the moment with the community of wrestling fans is what I will never forget about that night. From chanting "Joe!" at the guy who perfectly cosplayed as Samoa Joe, to the wave during the slow parts of the show, to jumping for joy and high-fiving when Kofi Kingston won the championship, there wasn't a dull moment. 

The Aftermath:

You know that awesome feeling you get when you board the plane to go home after one of the best vacations of your life? Okay, maybe it's not that awesome for most of you, but whenever I board the plane to go home, I experience sensations of both warm melancholy and excitement at telling everyone my experience.

Anyway, as I boarded the JetBlue regional jet that would take me back to Rochester, I knew I'd just had one of those vacations. I also knew that WrestleMania would be headed to Tampa next year, and considered going back the next year and making the trip an annual tradition. Then again, one of the major complaints wrestling fans have these days is the overexposure of the product. Once upon a time, there were only two televised wrestling shows a week, with the occasional pay-per-view or indie wrestling show. 

Today, there are televised wrestling shows every night, pay-per-views every other week, all kinds of indie promotions, and a subscriber network with over thousands of hours of past wrestling content. While it's fantastic that wrestling promotions have so many new ways to make income, it's also a drain on the standard professional wrestling fan's interest in the product. It doesn't have the luster it once did.

When I think back to 2010, the early days of my wrestling addiction, I remember that I couldn't watch either Raw or Smackdown, because Raw was on too late and Smackdown was on a channel we didn't have. The only show I could watch was Superstars (and whatever that NXT show was), and I made sure never to miss it. Until Thursday night came around, I would scour the internet for wrestling news, YouTube for old matches and pay-per-view highlights, and Amazon for my next wrestling DVD purchase. Because there was so little wrestling out there, I wanted more of it.

Now with so much content out there, I understand the need to take a step back from the product so that it stays fresh. I don't look up wrestling highlights anymore. I only occasionally tune in to Raw or Smackdown. This same logic should apply to WrestleMania, something the WWE themselves once touted as a once in a lifetime event. If one were to go to WrestleMania weekend every year, the magic would surely fade over time, even if it does go to a different city.

Still, I encourage every professional wrestling fan to make the trip to WrestleMania weekend at least once in their lives. Don't worry about spending a lot either. Some people say it's good to put aside $1,000 for the experience. I can tell you I spent closer to $700 on the experience, and that's with all the spending I did at the Nintendo World Store. Stay in a cheap Airbnb with one room and a bath; it's not like you're going to be staying in your room until show time. Figure out the metro schedule and plan the cheapest path to your destinations, or if the city is small, walk from place to place. Tampa is a lot smaller than New York, and I guarantee walking the streets in balmy weather will be better than waiting for the New Jersey metro in freezing rain.

At the end of the day, whether you're sitting in the front row of the show or up in the nosebleeds, whether you're in hoppin' New Orleans or blue collar Texas, whether you grew up with the likes of Stone Cold or the likes of Finn Balor, you'll feel like a kid again.

The Hare always beats the Tortoise...or so they say.

While perusing YouTube the other night, a  video that claimed to be the perfect metaphor for white privilege appeared on my feed. The video shows a group of people of different races, ages, and backgrounds about to compete in a footrace for $100. Before they can begin, however, the race official asks the participants a series of questions. If the answer is yes, the racer takes a step forward.

As the questions go on, it becomes apparent that the white runners do indeed have a huge handicap, while the black runners have to start from all the way at the back of the line. Perhaps to the college sophomore who wrote the script, this seems like a terrific metaphor for privilege. In many ways, it is; it's no secret that people of color are statistically disadvantaged.  We can sit here and debate forever about these numbers, but that would distract from my main point.

And my point is this: life is not a race.

It's true that many people of color often have to start from the bottom. From my experience growing up in a 6,000 population town, that's probably true of many Caucasian folks too. But when did life become a race to the top?

Ultimately, the problem I had with this video was not the message, but the metaphor itself. There's a great saying among writers that all of the media we consume, all of those movies, books, and video games we gobble up, started as a blank document. An empty slate soon to be filled with drafts, rewrites, eraser scribbles, tracked changes, blood, sweat, and tears, all for the sake of making it the thing you rave about to your friends.

Incidentally, this applies to humans as well. Regardless of who we are born to, we begin life as empty slates. Sure, we inherit certain traits from our parents, but its ultimately our settings, interests, and relationships we pack into those opening paragraphs that ultimately influence the novel of our lives.

That doesn't have to be a bad thing. Doesn't have to be a good thing either. It's just a fact of life; your experiences and your background play a big role in who you become. In many cases, they also influence how long it takes to get where you want to be. But in the end, who cares how long it takes if you know in your heart you will get there someday anyway?

We live in a world of hares. This is never more true than in college, a time when I judged myself the harshest. College was the hardest adjustment I ever had to make. I had moved six hours away from my blue-collar hometown to a largely white-collar New England city. The topics of conversation matured, and I longed for those days of small-town gossip as the people around me threw around euphemisms for sex and weed. Everyone else managed to shed the final vestiges of their grade school years with ease, trading in their soccer warmups and black socks giving way to suit jackets and Croft and Barrow shoes. I convinced myself that I was way behind everyone else, to the point where I would never be able to catch up.

I spent many a weekday night in the shower, close to breaking out in tears, as visions of homelessness, serving up Slurpees at 7-Eleven in some nameless suburb, and curling up in blankets alone every night haunted me. Everything was a competition in college, and I never seemed to finish first. Aside from a few Dean's List appearances, my defeatist mentality kept me from making the most of the college experience. I never ran for student or club offices, never participated in mock interviews or the annual Elevator Pitch competitions, never shared my writing in poetry readings and campus publications.

In the back of my mind, I told myself that I would always finish last.

My parents told me that my autism would always shave a few years off my mental age, but I never knew what that meant until college. I didn't feel like a young adult. I didn't want to dress up and spew a rehearsed pitch at job fairs. I didn't want to go to the bar after class and network. I wanted to play Super Smash Bros. with my roommate.

The world is more interconnected than ever, and it makes us focus on the people in front of us rather than ourselves.

In many ways, I felt like the black racers in the video probably did. The world is more interconnected than ever, and it makes us focus on the people in front of us rather than ourselves.

My experience was relatively tame compared to some of my friends, who experienced a far wider range of emotions in their college years. Some were apathetic, electing to stay in their dorm rooms or apartments all day and sleep through class. They would end up dropping out of college, and returning home to live with their folks.

Others became obsessed with success, the illusion of having the perfect life. They withdrew into their resumes and LinkedIn accounts, and shelled out untold amounts of money to attend leadership seminars and join "exclusive" campus organizations (I have my own experiences with leadership organizations, see here). Failure was not an option for them, and I had to help them weather the storm a fair amount of times.

I've even had to talk people off the edge.

In the world of first or bust, life takes a backseat. There's a reason depression is statistically higher in younger people than ever before. Life isn't as simple as a bike ride with friends anymore. Soon, there will be bills to pay. Home isn't really home anymore. The friends you thought you'd never lose find their own calling, and leave you out to dry. Being good at something isn't optional anymore: you can't just play on a baseball team because you can stand in the outfield and swat at butterflies like you could in Little League.

Today, however, I have a mortgage. I hold a sturdy 9-5 job, and still have time and money for hobbies, travel, and other pursuits. Here's a secret your peers, teachers, and career counselors don't want you to know: there is no universal definition of success.

People like to say there is. A two-story house, nuclear family, a couple of pets, a six-figure income, weekends playing guitar for a local cover band...this is probably the closest thing we can get to what society defines as successful. Dovetailing back into the race mentality, many of these young people consider what major will get them there the quickest rather than the major they would really like to pursue. Politicians always say we need more engineers and scientists. Those big dollar signs are hard to ignore, despite the fact that the Congressional Research Service discovered that unemployment is higher among science and engineering professionals than in other, similar areas.

Not all visions of success are the same, but many probably seek at least one of the elements of societal success. Aside from the nuclear family (and playing the guitar), this was my vision in my early college years. I had made the conscious decision to follow my dreams in high school when I decided to study writing, but even then I couldn't shake the many internal and external voices telling me what success was supposed to look like.

In my sophomore year, I finally threw my hands up. Why compete in a race I had no chance of winning? I had gone through a long bout with depression, and was ready to focus on what really made me happy.

Creative writing professors convinced everyone into trying to write the next great American novel, but I had worked up the confidence to write the sci-fi/fantasy stories that I'd always wanted to. Instead of doing the standard marketing internship, I spent the summer writing for my hometown newspaper and learned a surprising amount about the place I'd grown up in. I was called unprofessional, childish, but I ignored it all. I was happy, and if there was one thing I learned from my simple upbringing, it's that success is as simple as loving what you're doing. Perhaps it wasn't the ideal college experience, but it was mine, and I wouldn't have taken it back for anything.

Then came May, 2017. After only three years in college, I would be graduating with my B.S in Professional Writing. Everyone I knew reiterated to me what a big deal this was. How far ahead I was of everyone else. But how could that be? I'd taken the exact same number of credits as everyone else, and many of them got better grades than I had.

The concept of success has sown sinister seeds in the subconscious of young Americans. It's the God we all worship, the thing we are willing to sacrifice everything to get. We perceive it as gracing the few and throwing everyone else to the wolves.

Every one of these drivers has a different finish line, so how do we know who wins?

It took me years to realize that success is not universal; it's personal. NASCAR is back, so let's envision this imaginary race to success as an actual stock car race. As soon as the green flag waves, some of the drivers will turn around and go in the opposite direction. Some drive onto the infield grass, and some of these drivers stop to do donuts. Some head down pit road at full speed. Every one of these drivers has a different finish line, so how do we know who wins?

 In the age of social media, it's so easy to get absorbed into the lives of others. To desire the successes and riches they've amassed, the achievements they've unlocked. It's when we take a step back, look inside ourselves, and find what it is that we really want that we are truly happy. It may take a day, it may take several decades, but no matter how long it takes, it truly is the journey, not the destination, that we'll remember.

What I'm saying is, you don't have to be a hare, you don't have to be the tortoise. Just be yourself.

Beyond the Veil: Palmyra Historic Museum

The old Phelps General Store, a completely untouched time capsule. It draws visitors from all over the country...as well as those from the afterlife.

If you're like me, you go full spoopy for Halloween. Listening to horror podcasts and playlists of Top5s and Chills videos on Youtube, while carving pumpkins and hanging skull lights in the bedroom window. Taking bike rides to cemeteries around town, hoping for your own fateful encounter with the enigmatic forces of the afterlife.

Sadly, that wonderful time of year has come to a close. Halloween has passed, and the air will only grow colder until snow blankets everything in gray once more. The good news for us connoisseurs of anything spoopy, however, is that the unknown doesn't take a vacation. 

Last summer, I had the opportunity to join a group of renowned ghost hunters on an investigation of the historic Palmyra complex of museums. For years, I'd been a skeptic of the paranormal, questioning its existence, though never denying it. After six hours within the many museums, however, I became a believer.

What follows is the story I had originally written for the Sun & Record/Wayne County Mail, edited to give more insight into my personal experience. Strap in, folks, because this will definitely be the cure for your Halloween Hangover:

August 11, Palmyra --

It’s time once more to ask the age-old question; what happens when we die? Does our soul still remain on Earth, in places we felt the most attached to when we were alive? That’s what Bob Christopher and Gina Bengtson, famed paranormal investigators and co-founders of Ghostly Excursions, believe. The duo have explored paranormal hotspots all across the Eastern Seaboard in search of ghostly evidence, and for the fifth time, their hunt has brought them back to Historic Palmyra.

Whereas most towns and villages keep their history locked in dusty cabinets, Palmyra’s history is on full display. The archaic buildings that comprise the village are all original. Historic Palmyra has gone to great lengths to maintain the town’s 1800’s aesthetic, even saving the buildings on the north side of town from forced urban renewal by the federal government.

“I always get incredible evidence when I’m here,” said Christopher, who, in addition to Ghostly Excursions, stars on the TV series Haunted Destinations: Ghost Detectives.  Voices, strange energy, apparitions, the sensation of being touched by invisible hands…these events and more have all been reported at the museum, and confirmed by the duo on their subsequent investigations. It seems, in their effort to preserve the past, Historic Palmyra has inevitably preserved many souls as well...

“The history of Palmyra is completely unique, compared to the rest of the Finger Lakes,” said Bonnie Hays, President of Historic Palmyra and the main proprietor of the five museums. It’s this unique history, at times dark and troubled, that she believes fuels the spirits of Historic Palmyra’s five museums. Under the quaint buildings and modern conveniences of this thoroughly modernized Wayne County village lies the canal town of old, where building fires and street fights rage on in the afterlife.

Most of the paranormal activity is experienced in three of the museums: the Historical Museum, the Phelps General Store, and the Alling Coverlet. Before the investigation even began, however, we experienced a tremendous amount of activity in the apartment above the General Store.

It was during our initial tour of the area. I had followed Bengston to the top floor of the Store apartment, when we heard a commotion from the downstairs living room; the group's flashlights were switching on and off on their own accord! We returned to the room to, indeed, see the lights flickering on their own. 

The skeptic in me found this easy to write off, at first. The three flashlights in question were all twist-style lights, which are relatively easy to switch on even without a guiding hand, especially on a table surface in a room with many moving people. It was happened next, however, that truly set the mood for the night's events.

To give a bit more perspective, the second floor living room is believed to be haunted by young children who'd died in a mysterious fire in the 1800's. Believing we were in the presence of child spirits, we spoke benevolently to our apparent hosts.

"Do you like playing with the flashlight?" one of the hunters said. On cue, the middle flashlight shuffled across the table, as if guided by a young person's curious hand. No wind, no fan, no pockets of air were present on that warm summer's night. It hadn't taken long for the unexplained to make its presence known.

We started the actual investigation in the main Historic Museum. Formerly a Prohibition tavern and hotel, it houses over 200 exhibits packed with historical artifacts. It’s here that the ghosts of children frequently mock and touch guests, and the energy of Dr. Reuben Reeves can be felt in the Doctor’s Room. It was in this room that we captured a compelling voice on a spirit box, a device that rapidly scans through radio frequencies and allows spirits to communicate through the white noise. When asked who resided in the Doctor’s Room, an eerie voice came through.

“Reuben…Reeves.”

Upon hearing the voice, the feeling in the room completely changed. It was hard to describe, although at the time I recall comparing it to that initial feeling of coming down with an illness. When your body becomes warm, almost numb, and every pocket of air feels like icicles scraping your skin.

Most of the evening’s activities, as you already know, centered on the Phelps General Store. Skeptic or not, the Store is a must-see. Time quite literally stands still in this post-Civil War marketplace and home, which has remained unspoiled by indoor plumbing and electricity. All of the items on the shelves, from detergents to sugar, harken back to those older days.

Above the store is the aforementioned two-floor apartment, where multiple residents lived over the years. One of these residents was Sibyl Phelps, a graduate of the Eastman School of Music and lifelong resident of Palmyra. She returned here after finishing her studies, where she would remain until her death in 1976. 

One employee reported coming across the apparition of Sibyl in a bedroom on the top floor, who turned to him and said “don’t touch my things.” He refuses to go upstairs alone to this day. During the ghost hunt, Bengtson captured something stunning in this very room on her thermal imaging camera, which captures temperature readings in the surrounding area; a peculiar cold spot in the shape of a human torso staring out the window. This image only appeared in this window, and lasted for a good twenty minutes. Was this Sibyl Phelps, observing the village she once called home?

The Alling Coverlet was the final stop of the hunt, and is a personal favorite of Bengtson.

“The ghosts here like to make fun of my Massachusetts accent,” she admitted. The Alling House is already a phenomenon in its own right, boasting the largest collection of American hand-woven coverlets in the United States. The beautiful tapestries hang from the ceiling like banners.

On the hunt, two different spirits came through the white noise of the spirit box, answering the many questions of the attendees. Over an hour was spent communicating with these spirits, as they smartly answered every question asked of them.

History is alive and well in Palmyra, and Historic Palmyra has many more ghost hunts and walks planned in the coming months, so that others can experience firsthand the voices of the village’s past.  

Postmortem:

I should add that, as I was typing this, the door to my office shut on its own accord several times. It is a windy day out, which more than likely explains that, but after seeing that flashlight move on its own I'm just not sure anymore...