Insurance Tales of the Paranormal

With Halloween nearly upon us, I thought I would share a tale of a seemingly normal hotel, an unsuspecting insurance professional preparing for a meeting and an instant that would give him pause every time he peered under a couch for the rest of his life. The events in the story you are about to read are true and really happened to me. Although I have omitted the name of the hotel, it is a real place in Albany, NY that is open to the public and remains in operation to this day as far as I know. I have withheld the hotel’s name and exact location because I’m pretty sure my wife would be upset if a cease and desist letter were delivered to our home. I’ve been married a long time and have therefore developed a keen sense for things that may make my spouse angry. A letter from a law firm threatening legal action would probably be right up there with me forgetting our anniversary.

Let me begin by stating that I am and have always been a skeptic of urban legends and all things paranormal. Otherworldly things such as ghosts, UFOs, aliens, the Loch Ness monster and veggie burgers generally have a rational explanation. They simply aren’t what they may appear to be or what people say they are. In my experience, most alleged encounters with the paranormal can be readily explained by a lack of sleep, an overactive imagination, poor lighting, too much alcohol or some combination of the four. And not necessarily in that order or in equal amounts. Every once in a while though, something happens that cannot be explained by any or all of the aforementioned conditions. This is one of those instances.

May 31st, 2017 is a day I will remember for the rest of my life and one whose events I have recounted many times since to anyone willing to listen. I have also related the story to many people who really didn’t want to listen but either didn’t want to appear rude or simply couldn’t make me shut up.

I awoke that morning in a hotel room in Albany. The same hotel room where I had fallen asleep the previous evening. I was in this hotel because I had a meeting with a client later that morning just a few floors below in one of their conference rooms. The hotel itself was not the typical setting one would imagine for such a story. It was modern, well-staffed and meticulously maintained - hardly the Overlook Hotel where a child would scribble REDЯUM on a mirror in red lipstick. Upon entering my room, I saw a small couch. The couch was situated on the far right side of the rectangular room and a bed was on the opposite wall facing the couch. A small, narrow island was in the center of the room with a large TV on top that swiveled a full 360 degrees so it could be viewed from either the bed or the couch. The bathroom was in the adjoining room near the bed. The main room was very well lit by three lamps in various locations, two large windows on the far wall and one large lighting fixture mounted in the short hallway in front of the door.

On the morning in question, I awoke at 7:00 am. My plan was to get dressed, prepare materials for my 10:30 AM meeting, pack my suitcase, eat some breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant then check out of my room and have my car packed and ready to go so I could depart immediately after the meeting ended to begin the 3 hour drive back home. After waking, I checked a few emails on my phone and took a semi-leisurely shower. When I had finished showering, I walked around my room to collect a few items I had left out the night before so I could pack them in my suitcase. I crossed the room from the bed to retrieve a sock lying on the floor at the base of the couch. When I reached the couch, I dropped to one knee and extended my hand toward the sock but quickly retracted my hand in terror.

At the exact moment I was reaching for my sock, my eyes detected a sudden movement under the couch. To my absolute horror, I saw what appeared to be a human hand dart out from beneath the couch and reach for my own. The hand extending from under the couch was not like the ones often depicted in ghost stories. It wasn’t transparent, covered in blood or showing signs of decay. But for the fact that it was protruding from an impossibly small space under a piece of furniture, it was otherwise ordinary. I could see the details of the fingernails, folds of the skin around the knuckles and even the tiny hairs covering it in the brief moment it appeared (which seemed to last hours).

In one graceless maneuver, I yanked my hand away from the couch as if it had been burned by fire. I fell flat on my back as my flailing feet and arms propelled me backwards with all of the coordination of a drunken toddler attempting a reverse crab walk. The hand withdrew back under the couch just as suddenly as it had appeared but its disappearance provided little comfort to me in the moment. In my head, I was asking, “Why is there a hand under my couch? Is there a man attached to that hand hiding under my couch? How did he get there? What does he want with my sock?” The only sound that actually came out of my mouth however was, “AAAAAHHHH!!!!”

My mind was reeling from a concoction of confusion, disbelief and unbridled fear. I sat on the floor of the hotel room shaking for several seconds unsuccessfully trying to convince myself I had imagined what I had just witnessed. My eyes were fixed on the underside of the couch where the hand had appeared only seconds before. All I could do was to stare at the couch and listen to the loud thumping of my heart as sweat appeared in a heavy blanket across my forehead. Had I been connected to a heart monitor in that moment, hospital staff would have rushed into the room with a crash cart and applied the paddles to my chest. A priest likewise would have been summoned to administer Last Rites.

And then I noticed something.

At a glance, it appeared the bottom of the couch sat about three or four inches above the carpeted floor supported by a few unseen couch legs somewhere beneath the piece of furniture. The couch however, did not have a space underneath. Along the entire base and extending upwards from the floor a few inches, wrapping around the entire length of the couch was a mirror. To the casual observer, it appeared the carpet extended below the couch and back to the wall as one would normally expect for this type of furniture. In reality, the couch sat flush with the floor and the mirror surrounding the base gave the illusion of a small space underneath the couch. The carpet that appeared to extend beneath the piece of furniture was merely a reflection of itself. The hand I saw extending from “under” the couch was likewise a reflection. It was my own hand I saw reaching for me.

I scooted forward, still unable to stand. I cautiously ran my hand along the base of the couch and saw its resulting reflection in the narrow strip of mirror, confirming my recent discovery. I then placed my hand over my heart to deter it from exploding in my chest and yelled out to the empty room, “WHO DECIDED TO PUT A MIRROR UNDER A COUCH???!!! And then, like a man barely clinging to sanity, I relaxed my shoulders, put my hands behind my head, laid back on the floor and began to laugh. For a long time.

Pictured above is an actual photo from one of the rooms in the hotel taken by Dean Mandis. He sent it to me several months later as a reminder of my stupidity.

Because of the events that transpired in the that room, I will sometime place the tip of my shoe at the base of the furniture when entering a hotel room just to see if I hear a tap of a mirror. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on the reflection in the mirror.