This is exactly right. Hello and welcome to my favorite murder, the many soad. It's many. So Monday, grab a sode, do it, grab a road soda. Did it did anyone you know ever call Bier's Road sodas?

No. I'll take it on your way to a party that's drinking and driving.

Oh, no, that's my special my special group of alcoholics. Sounds like that Sacramento thing. It's very floodplain behavior for sure.

Road soda. Road soda. You have to drink on your way places. Because what if you get caught there in reality? Oh, my God. Superfunds Beer finds that it's when like we're about to go get beer and like everyone needs to put in beer funds, beer finds everyone throws money in and then you stand outside a grocery store or a liquor store and find an older person willing to buy you liquor. Hell, yeah, we did that a lot.

I told you the story of us walking up. Please, honestly, stop me and Steven could take this out if I thought that in high school we did this thing one time or it was the alpha beta shopping centers. I was actually kind of a really big shopping Sunday. The Alpha Beta was very 70s, early 80s grocery store with a weird. Did you guys have alpha beta? We had no idea. It was like it was a rainbow, but it was earth tones.

It couldn't have been more like Nevin's yet. So we're an alpha beta shopping center, me and my friend Christine, and like a bunch of our their friends. But Christine and I are the ones that are on task. And we have like sixty dollars that we've collected about sixty dollars in beer funds. In beer funds. Right. And we some kid that we didn't know but was clearly another high school like junior or senior trying to get liquor's like you should go over there.

There's guys over there that'll buy for you. So we walk over to this skuzzy east looking station wagon. That's like the tires are kind of flat. It's way too low to the ground. And there's two dudes in it that look like they live on a river bank. Like it was insanely sketchy. And we just immediately leaned over like, hey, will you buy liquor for us?

And they're like, totally. We lean in and start listing off all of the different colors and flavors of wine on spaghetti, each the fuzzy peach, not the regular peach. But if they don't have regular right, you can get peppermint schnapps. Always got hammer. All right. We we gave our order for literally five minutes.

The guy's looking up like a ha like after a while he thinks it's funny and he was sounds good. Takes the money, they throw it into reverse and drive wisely. They'll just without even pausing.

It was so hilarious and borderline dangerous.

Guys, nowadays your parents just buy it for you know that's. Yeah. Anyways, are you ready. Yeah. Let's tell stories. This subject line of this is hostile. Haunting. Hey everyone, I have a ghost story for you. I've had weird experiences with the supernatural throughout my life, starting when I was really little and things slowed down as I got older. They always do, but haven't completely stopped when you're in college. I went to Chicago with some of my classmates for spring break.

We stayed at a hostel as thrifty college kids do, and always well until I was getting ready for bed the first night after getting out of the shower, I noticed some small, strange, dark marks in various places on my legs. They wouldn't wipe off and they didn't hurt, but it unsuccessfully racked my brain trying to think of what I'd done in previous days that would have caused them. Nothing came to mind. I just shrugged it off and went to bed.

The next morning when I woke up, the marks were a little darker. I thought it was super weird, but I just tried to ignore it and enjoy my trip. By the end of the following day, I had full blown handprints up and down, both legs concentrated more on my calves and shins. I freaked out and started crying and when I showed my friends, I could tell they were all freaked out too, but didn't want to scare me more.

A friend reassured me by saying that if it was a ghost, they probably would have already hurt me if they actually wanted to. Thanks, friend. Thanks, best friend. This is. That's so me. You're so you're clamoring for some words of comfort.

So you just say whatever pops into your head, don't really think about all this is comfort. I'm sure of it. I'm not sure if that actually made me feel better or not, but nothing worse happened. And the bruises faded after we went back home. I don't remember the name of the hostel we stayed at, so I can't really Google its history. But I'm still curious about what that building could have been before it was a hostel. I think someone said it was a girls boarding school, which would also explain the smaller than average size of the handprints.

But I can't confirm that. I feel like a hostel is haunted enough, like it doesn't have to be anything else anyway. Stay sexy and teach social distancing to your. Ghosts. Shannon Creevey, time when I would have said if I was if I was Shannons, trying to be comforting but actually very insensitive friend. I would have said I'd it's probably not it goes it's probably a really little guy that's coming in and just touching you. It's probably a tiny demon.

It's fine. Don't worry about it.

I think it's a it's a grad student from down the hall that's just got real tiny little baby. It's a ghost baby demon grad student with baby tiny hands. Don't worry about it.

Calf fetish. Right. Or, you know, it's fine. It's a compliment. You have great calves.

That's a good story. You should look it up. Sign us. Yeah. What? That hostel's. What you mean.

Okay. This one's just called Hometown Story starts. So here we go. My uncle has spent his whole life working in the British music industry, mostly working gigs and managing bands. One one. Lee. Are they. I know. One late night in the 80s, my uncle was driving home from work in his van. He was slow getting home, so he stopped by a pay phone to call my grandparents and let them know he'd be home. Late that night, he woke up to cops ramming down his door.

He was promptly arrested on suspicion of extortion and kidnapping. Turns out some rich guys daughter was kidnapped for ransom and was expected to negotiate at that exact payphone around the time. My clueless uncle showed up Van. And all. After searching my uncle's mini cottage on the edge of my grandparents property, the police realized that the wrong guy. My uncle probably could have made some sweet cash out of being falsely arrested and searched without a warrant. But alas, they made an agreement to pretend it never happened due to the massive bag of weed hidden under his bed just as well.

They didn't search my grandparents. As my grandpa was in the possession of an unregistered pistol he'd stolen from under the pillow of a murderous chef working at his restaurant. But my grandpa had a few shifty restaurants near his sister's brothel. So there were a few wild things going on there. I'll save that for another time. You guys are an integral part of grounding myself when I'm drenched in sweat. Post PTSD nightmares. Thank you for gently and hilariously reminding me that it could be worse and normalising getting help.

We should all feel safe to discuss therapy and meds.

Bless k. O. K. K.

Hey identifies as she her also.

OK. I just want to say that whole families should be arrested and put in prison.

Are they are best friends now or should they be our best friend or should open a pot store.

Here's another idea. They open a hostel.

Hey. Hey. I asked you with a sketchy restaurant at the bottom and a weed store on the top and a brothel close by.

Hey, man. Okay. The subject line of this is. Well, it gives it all away. I'll just read the introduction as whatever the greeting is. My favorite badass podcasting babes. I first want to start off by saying thank you for always keeping me sane. I've been listening to your podcast for a few years now and it's gotten me through the hell that is nursing school. We need you as someone who works in a psychiatric unit. I always love Keryn.

Stories about her bad US nurse, mom, head nurse, by the way. Now.

Enough about me. Let's get to the real reason I'm writing you guys. In the 80s, my dad was in his early 20s, and just like Steven, he had a killer mustache. My dad at the time would go out to Colorado to work at my uncle's ranch. My dad was dating my mom at the time who lived in Illinois. So on an off week, my dad boarded what he thought would be a routine late night flight home. Little did he know it was far from that.

My dad boarded, greeted his seat neighbor and sat down, expecting to sleep the whole flight home. Shortly after my dad fell asleep, he woke up to a commotion in the row in front of him. The flight attendants were surrounding an elderly woman and her family trying to figure out what to do. Suddenly, the flight, the flight attendants ask, is there a doctor on board? Turns out the man sitting next to my dad was an E.R. doctor.

He jumped up and took my dad with him. And while the doctor tended to the woman, my dad stood there in shock and became his assistant. According to the family, the woman had many illnesses and was very sick. Unfortunately, she passed after everything was wrapped up. My dad and the doctor went back to their seats. Neither of them had ever dealt with death on a plane, so they just assumed everything would be handled when they landed.

Nope. The plane took an emergency landing in the middle of nowhere. So my dad and the doctor could sign a death certificate.

They list the dead first. It's like I think the doctor signed the death certificate. Your dad was the witness. Oh, my God.

When the plane landed, my dad and the doctor were escorted off by airplane police and then in parentheses. I don't know their official title. I think an air marshal. Right. To an office to file the paperwork, my dad assumed they would also take the body off the plane when they landed. But he was wrong again when they boarded back onto the plane, the woman was still sitting in her chair. This time she was propped up and wrapped in one of those thin airplane blankets.

It looked like a weekend at Bernie's situation, according to my dad. The plane took off and landed safely in Illinois, where the woman was finally taken off the plane by the coroner. The best part of this is the coroner used the airplane blanket to cover the body while carrying her out. My dad was safely reunited with my mom, whom he eventually convinced to road trip back with him at the end of the week. Yeah, my dad has many crazy dead body stories, but this one is my favorite.

Stay sexy and make sure you're not sitting too next to a doctor on the plane. Thank you for all you do, Rachel.

Can you imagine being like, well, that didn't work. Let's go back to our seats. What the fuck? That's so heavy. It's so. And also, I love that the dad thought they would leave the body. It's like, sorry, she paid that ticket. You have to take her. She needs to go where she is. You bring her backstage. Is there a backstage? You know what? It's just like sitting there while, like, their snaps are being served.

Yes. Sorry. There's pretzels are going to taste too good this time. You know what? You can have someone. You get off the plane. You can't.

It's so it's a lot. It's dark. This one, I'm not gonna say the name of it, but this is one of my favorite, like, ill fated town stories that I've been obsessed with my whole life. So it starts. Hi, all. Since we're all into underground ghost towns these days, I thought I'd give you the opposite. A ghost town that has been on fire for over 50 years.

Well, I grew up near San Centralia, Centralia.

I grew up near Centralia, Pennsylvania, a town that was once a busy town with a booming coal mining industry. It is possible the town itself was doomed from the start when in 1868, its founder, Alexander Ray, was murdered in a routine buggy ride to a nearby town. His death was attributed to a gang of Molly Maguires, which is a secret society of Irish immigrant activists.

Am pointing at you, you know, like you, Karen. My people. Yeah. Yeah. Though they may have been framed by owners of the mines who feared the Mollie's would unionize their workers.

And then it says in parentheses, America could do. One hundred years later, in 1962 and the town decided to clean up the local dump ahead of Memorial Day celebrations. In true 1960s fashion, the method for cleaning the landfill was to set it on fire. No. Unlike in previous years, they were not able to put the fire out. The coal veins under the dump caught fire. It spread underground to other coal veins and eventually to the many abandoned mine tunnels and coal deposits under the entire town.

This fucking video of this online, you can see it. Officials attempted to put out the fire, but it was nearly impossible to determine which of the many tunnels and veins were feeding the fire for years. The fire burned on the temperature of the ground, became nearly 900 degrees, and smoke and steam would pour from cracks in the ground. Sinkholes and even residents basements. In 1981, a 12 year old boy fell into a steaming sinkhole that had suddenly opened in his backyard.

This has everything.

I mean, this. But also, they still lived it. I mean, it's like they're like, well, where do we go? It is our whole town, our buckin town. It's not my house is on fire underground. It's the whole fucking players.

Our earth is on fire. Or our little piece of him. Yeah, his simmering. His cousin pulled him out of the hole, which was billowing hot steam with lethal levels of carbon monoxide. So he surveyed residents of Centrella were divided on whether the fire posed a true risk. As many did not want to relocate from their hometown after the sinkhole incident, a thousand people were really relocated and 500 structures were demolished. It was very painful chapter for these residents and even a few stayed behind and five or so remain today.

Whoa. I can fire Ghost Town. I mean, growing up, we would drive through your skin. Looks amazing. The steam is like opens on doors. Growing up, we would drive through Centrella to see the eerie steam and smoke arising from the ground at the cemetery. Today, it looks like an overgrown field with mysterious, cracked and buckling roads paved through the foundations of some homes, hinting to a past not forgotten. It is less common now to see the smoke is as it is possible the fire is nearly burned out or migrated underground.

But the apocalyptic aura remains stay sexy and don't burn trash.

Mo or Mo m. O.W. Amazing Alperin trial.

God, I would love to see video of that from when it was at its height. Because I think that there's a video game. Is it a silent hill? Based on they designed the landscape of that video game based on that city.

Oh, definitely they did. They did. That's right. I just saw Lou Millennial.

So good. So great.

I think. I think there's like like 80s video, like Heraldo Rivera did a special on it or some shit. I just remember seeing it being like I'm totally like fire ghost town.

When I was just home in Petaluma, WI. One night is my cousin Stevie and Kim came over and we all eat dinner and we all started telling stories about the dump, which is where like we lived is so far out in the country. There was no garbage pickup. You had to take your own garbage to the dump. Amazing. And it was like a thing that we did like once a month. My dad always want to go to the dumps with me, and you always say yes, because it was like a, you know, poor people's amusement park, essentially.

And it was like that's that's when I started getting obsessed with, like, what would eventually be vintage stores. Yeah. But at the time I would stand on that on the edge of that to pit. Did you go through things? What if there's something down there?

We'll know. It was like a 30 foot drop between where you put it because it was old school dump. Were you. My dad would back the truck up to the edge of this pit and you just dump everything out like lovely bones together.

Lovely bone style. Exactly. But I mean, Bridge Raider isn't stuff.

Well, there was this it was a city run thing, so you couldn't dump paint there. And there was like a slightly extra area. But in the 70s, it was like, go put whatever you want, like it's have. Sometimes it can only fire. Sometimes it does.

Sometimes it would be treasure. But I would just like scan. No, they would have and it will at least where I'm from in Orange County. They would have a look at the New Year. They'd have a Christmas tree fire. Everyone brought their Christmas trees. I remember this one. So maybe it really didn't go well. But the banner Jewish. So like we didn't having their branding. Jews went to watch the Christmas tree fire. Sure. Like.

Like a bonfire. Yeah. It's like a huge fucking towering thing. A Christmas tree.

Mr. Smelled amazing. Yeah. Yankee candle or. Okay. Yeah. Yeah.

Your lantern last D. Okay. Yeah. I love you. Centralia. Good jobs and value. I mean what a truly. If you ever want to make the place where you're from. Do that central. That's me.

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Yeah. And it's it feels creative and fun and like something new.

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This is a subject line of this is a a. Kids say the darndest things, stories lighthearted. So I was listening to the Minnesota about the girl who told her teacher, my dad beat me. And I immediately chuckled because there's some because something similar happened to me. My mother parentheses a bad ass trauma ICU nurse who worked on the south side of Chicago while I was growing up.

Holy shit.

Just warrior. Props to all Chicago nurses. I was at work one day when I was very young, leaving me at home with my dad. My dad was swinging me around in circles.

Oh yes, sir. My dad was swinging me around in circles in our backyard. When Pop goes, my elbow dislocated. Also known as a nursemaids elbow, a fairly common injury in younger children. So they're so pliable. Little kids. They really are.

You know, my dad told me that I looked at him in horror and screamed, You broke my arm, which was my first full sentence.

So he sees it or you think it's chic as it's Gina as a little enough baby to.

That's like two. Yeah. That it's like first sentence area you broke. My friends is screaming.

You broke my arm, which was. My dad freaked out and called my mom who told him just simply take me to the E.R. so they can pop it back into place. I can't. She keep screaming. You broke. They're gonna think I'm beating her. My dad frantically replied. My mother ended up clocking out for lunch, driving home, popping my arm back into place in a matter of seconds and leaving to finish her shift. My mom was always calm in emergency situations, like when my dad cut the tip of his finger off in a sausage grinder or when she saved a man from choking to death at a fish fry.

By performing CPR, she's incredible. And the reason both my younger brother and I are now E.R. nurses.

Holy shit.

How did Dynarski absolute except for your dad or your dad? He's useless.

He is a he runs a business breaking children's arms. He runs a child's mafia business.

It's pretty adorable, actually. It's actually the only borrow quarters from each other. All precious. You guys are the absolute fucking best. Thank you for being you. Gina Santa.

I love. I love that story. It's a great love that story. Send us those. You guys send us. Nurse, nurse, mom. Stories always send nurse mom stories. Also, if you send us a story and you talk about your mother, father, grandpa, grandma, please tell us their name.

That's right. Please.

Well, speaking of grandpa, I have one and I don't think his name's in this. That's OK. Wait.

Oh, also what about if you ever found anything amazing at the dump in the 70s or 80s? I would like to hear that story because that's my dream. Amazing. Horrible. Yeah. I mean, like, absolutely horrible. Or, you know, creepy or whatever. But like, if you have a good dump going to the dumps a story. People who live out in the country. I'm talking to you. Let's hear him.

If there's like a town dump rumor we want to hear. Yeah, OK. This one not going to be the title. It just says hi. No bullshit. Just hi.

This happened to a friend of mine and I've never been so jealous.

His grandfather on his mother's side was getting up in years and develop dementia. He started telling wild stories of exotic countries he'd visited for work and crazy investigations he'd conducted there following doctor's orders when he got into these stories. His family had to reorient him by saying, no, grandpa, you worked for the phone company. Remember, as an engineer, you traveled a little, but only in this country. So they just completely ruined his hopes and dementia dreams.

They just negated his whole fans. Right. Fast forward a few months, and grandpa sadly passed away while cleaning out his house and moving his belongings. His children lifted up the mattress to find all caps. His fucking CIA badge and ID was. Yes. All those stories were 100 percent true. He did work for the Bell Atlantic Phone Company, but it was unclear to his family whether the CIA had assigned him there to assist with phone tapping or he started there and the CIA hired him because they thought he'd be helpful, a helpful resource.

Either way, the phone company is a complete friend. That's right.

The CIA tells even real phone. Oh, my God, my head hurts.

Either way, they started putting together weird details that suddenly made sense, for example, that he'd gone for weeks at a time, quote, lecturing, and that one time he'd had a few drinks and hit Matteis Slash brainwashed a woman in the middle of a party. They couldn't get any details about his. Work, but it's still the coolest damn thing ever. Stay sexy and. And don't not believe your grandpa's wild stories. Kate. Kate. Kate.

If that's true and it better be. That's the best thing of all, because this was my only. I flinched at the idea. What's a CIA badge? Isn't the CIA's that no one knows you work there? Sure. I guess they wouldn't be like wearing your laminate. They don't have like a sash, like a Miss America sash. It's actually looks like a Cinnabon shirt, but it just says CIA smell. It smells so good. It's one of those like auto insurance things that people sent on the arrows.

Guys down on the corner and flip and stuff and put a points to you and says, I'm the I'm in the CIA. I mean, that's your that's your badge, your badge as a whole guy that can do sign acrobatics. You know, everyone right now make a fake CIA badge and put it under your mattress just in case something just in case you just fuck with your family. Let's fucking do it.

It makes sense, though, because I bet you this is my theory.

The way dementia usually works is your I think your brain goes backwards in time.

We get a road. So your memories become more and more from before. So maybe it was like he worked in his 20s or 30s or 40s or whatever, you know, in the CIA and then just kind of like went into Wire-Tapping, which is much easier and more low key. Later years. Yeah. And it's like, yeah, his that's what his brain is remembering. And he's forgotten that he's not supposed to talk about it. Yeah. So he think, oh my God.

The whole part of his brain that says, ixnay, sit. You have to put that in the vault like the door opened. That's right. And then he was just like guys, you wouldn't believe the shit I love. I'm sorry, but that's a real upside. It was a terrible disease. It is in his heart. Send us your stories. There's so many options at this point. If you don't have a story, send it and we'll make it.

We'll start making the thing because I bet it could. Good nouns and adjectives and you'll be fine.

Right. Just. Just. Yeah. But yeah. Thank you. Just thank you.

And stay sexy.

Don't get murdered by Elvis.

You want a cookie.