If you're ever in the Everglades, steer clear of the abandoned hotel.

I grew up in Florida in a small town right on the edge of the Everglades. My hometown was essentially a retirement community. There weren't a ton of kids my age around, and there was nowhere for teens to hang out on the weekend. Great place to live if you're 55+ and ready to enjoy your golden years. Less so if you're a 17 year old hooligan trying to party their way through senior year. In order to get away from the ever-watchful eye of the retiree crowd, my friends and I would make the 45 minute drive into the swamp to this run down old hotel in the middle of nowhere.
This place had a bar, a huge courtyard lobby, and a ballroom with an old grand piano and a PA system. A buddy of mine was cool with the owner. They weren't the type to care if some local kids wanted to let loose, throw back a few beers, and play obnoxious garage rock over the PA. So that was where we went. Even back then, the place had seen better days. I think that they were just happy to have the business.
Then I went off to college, and the hotel unfortunately closed up shop while I was away. From what I heard - the hurricane really did a number on the property. The guy who owned it thought it was better to cut his losses rather than fix it up, so they closed their doors for good and the place was left to the elements.
I come home for summer break my junior year and I'm immediately bored out of my mind. None of my old friends lived in town anymore, so I was left to my own devices. In college, I got into photography. My favorite thing to photograph was urban decay - manmade structures left to rot. Naturally, I get the idea to go check out the old hotel and see what's up. I'm thinking I'll head out there at golden hour, poke around a bit, and snap a few pictures of what's left of the building.
So I get in my car and head down the country highway that leads to the property. In order to reach it, you have to turn down a dirt access road and keep driving for two or three miles. Did I mention the place was in the middle of nowhere? I arrive at the hotel a little after 6, and the sun is just beginning to go down. The dense thickets of cypress trees surrounding the hotel were bathed in the most gorgeous golden light. Perfect for taking pictures.
Evidently, I wasn't the first person to get the idea to go snoop around. About a mile from the entrance, the chain link gate is shut and a PRIVATE PROPERTY sign is posted. Undeterred, I park my car, grab my camera gear and bluetooth speaker, and continue the journey on foot. I don't bother locking my car since there's nobody around. I hop over the gate and start making my way down the dirt path under the tree canopy.
To set the mood on the 20 minute walk to the hotel, I boot up my speaker, play some chill piano music, and take in the vibes. I arrive at the entrance and the trees give way to the massive clearing that houses the hotel. It's immediately clear that the place is in really rough shape. It's completely overgrown with vegetation. The east wing where the bar used to be was partially collapsed. It was also covered in graffiti, and a few of the busted out windows had some dirty sheets strung up to block the sun. It looked like squatters may have moved in at one point. However, I hadn't seen or heard anyone around and there were no cars in sight. I assumed that whoever had taken up residence must had long since been kicked out.
I proceed with my plan and start walking around the building snapping pictures. All the while music was still playing from my speaker. Curiosity gets the better of me, so I approach one of the broken windows in the lobby and take a peek inside. As rough as the place looked on the outside, the interior was ten times worse. The carpet and walls were covered with mold, debris was strewn all over the place, and broken furniture littered the floor.
Wanting to grab a killer photo of this scene, I hop through the window and set up my tripod facing the grand stairway. On my left was the collapsed east wing, and on my right I could see the hallway leading to the ballroom. The light had dimmed a bit, so I thought I'd try out the extended exposure setting. While I waited, I took a seat on one of the few intact pieces of furniture and spark up a joint.
I tend to get lost in my own thoughts when I smoke, so I hadn't noticed that at some point my speaker died. I was sitting there pondering life when I had a realization that made my hair stand on end. My speaker had died, but the music hadn't stopped. Echoing from the direction of the ballroom, I could hear the same high pitched piano riff of the song I'd just been listening to. Played over and over again. Only it sounded wrong. It was all disjointed and jittery.
Without thinking, I bolt up, grab my camera, and rush back out the way I came. The Everglades is a loud place - there are all kinds of birds, bugs, and frogs humming white noise at all hours of the day. As soon as I cleared the window, I realized that I couldn't hear any of it. It was dead silent, as if someone had pressed the mute button on nature. All the while I can still hear the same shrill piano riff playing over and over behind me - only its gotten louder and more frantic.
At this point, I'm straight up terrified. I break into a full sprint, cross the hotel grounds, and take off down the dirt trail in the fading light. I've never ran so fast in my life. After what feels like an eternity, I make it back to where I parked and hop the gate. Then my heart stops again. The hood, trunk, and every door on my car are all pulled wide open. Cautiously, I approach my car and find that it's totally unharmed. My wallet and keys are still in the cupholder where I left them. As fast as I can, I close up the doors, start up the engine and get the hell out of dodge. I must have been doing 80 mph on that dirt road. You want my advice? If you're ever in the Everglades - steer clear of the abandoned hotel.


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