A Ghost Story

Or, why you shouldn’t try to sleep in a gas station bathroom.

Photo by Justin Chrn on Unsplash

So this happened:

I was walking along one night, no real destination in mind, looking for a spot to spend the night. You see, I was homeless at the time (full disclosure: I’m homeless now too, as I write this, except now I have a vehicle to sleep in) and I was a heroin addict (I’m in recovery now).

Anyways, so I’m walking, it’s late at night, not too cold, I’m in Richland, WA and there’s a gas station, it’s behind what used to be an Albertson’s grocery store. The Albertson’s is now closed down, boarded up, empty. The gas station is still there, I was just in there yesterday buying sugar for a homeless guy. Haha, but that’s a whole other story.

But so, I’m walking and this gas station it’s closed for the night, but there’s a door cracked open, light spilling out. It’s the restroom. This gas station has one of those restrooms where it’s only accessible from outside.

So when I see the light and the door ajar and the business itself is closed for the night, I think: “I’m in luck!” There’s no one around, a place to sleep, out of the elements, I can finally get off my feet for a bit. Lucky indeed.

So in I go, shut and lock the door, and have a look around. It’s fairly good-sized for a gas station bathroom. There’s a step down to the commode. No stall or anything.

Well so, I believe I relieved myself. Maybe I didn’t. What I am certain of is what follows. Like I mentioned earlier, I was using drugs at the time and I had some on me so I proceeded to fix myself up a shot. I did that, then put everything away in my pack. (I remember I had tried to be in the habit of putting everything (paraphernalia, what-have-you) away before I would actually do the drugs but that didn’t always happen.)

And this is when it gets weird. (As if it’s not already weird). Now, I’m not gonna try and make this seem extra spooky—except to say that I was alone and it was late at night—and even though some may say that I was on drugs therefore this event could have been all in my head—to them I say, Fuck You! I know what I know. Plus, I wasn’t like: all out of my head high, my habit was basically like maintenance—to keep from getting sick.

Anyways, I was standing up, in the middle of this good-sized, open-spaced gas station bathroom looking around, trying to decide where exactly I wanted to lay down for the night when I felt a hand grip my throat. Not too hard, not too soft. Like a friend pretending to choke you, with one hand.

Needless to say, I noped my way out of there immediately.

I don’t remember where I slept that night but I will always remember where I almost slept that night.