You're Brave.
I see you've decided that you have what it takes to dance with death at some of San Diego's most haunted locations. *I look you up and down. You see a flicker of respect cross my face—I think you have what it takes. Or, at the very least, I hope you do.*
Follow me. If you dare. But do not be afraid to turn back if you get too scared...
Now, on to our first stop...
The Whaley House
"Oh! This just in! Guy giving haunted tour advice pitches the most Haunted House in the United States," someone in the back says.
His outburst drips with sarcasm, and you turn to me to see how I will handle this rude outburst.
You cringe in anticipation that my face will blush. Or that I will falter in the face of this cruel heckler.
But my face isn't flushed. Instead, a slow smirk crosses it.
"Well yeah. I wouldn't be a good ghost tour guide if I left the most haunted house in America off my tour. Now would I?"
The tour group howls with laughter—all of them on my side. The heckler, suddenly feeling isolated and alone, looks down at his feet—wishing he was invisible.
The benevolent god I am, I let the heckler off easy, "but you're right, it does get a little busy in there."
I shoot him a reassuring smile. He is greatful that I allow him to save face with the group, especially after I clearly demolished him with my wit.
"Has everyone already paid the $18 and made their reservations for the spooky evening tour?" I ask the group.
They all nod. The excitement is palpable. The smiles? Ear to ear.
This is why I got into the ghost tourism game—the electricity.
"Evening tour?" you ask (because by now you've realized how approachable I am as a tourguide, and that you don't have to be afraid to ask questions. In fact, you get the vibe that I love questions!), "they do daytime ghost tours?"
"Good question, _________," I respond.
You notice that I'm great with names.
"The day tours, although they cover SOME of the paranormal aspects of the Whaley House, tend to cover a lot more of the historical significance of the building. The Greek Revival architecture, the homemade brickwork, etc," I continue.
"Oh wow. Good to know!" you respond.
"Oh! I think our tour is about to begin!" I say.
We had arrived 20 minutes before our reservation, as instructed. Now, at last, we are ushered through the dimly lit entry into... The Whaley House!
40 minutes later, we emerge.
You glisten with sweat. You're afraid.... and it's exciting.
"Oh my goodness! I wish it wasn't over!"
I look back at you, with a smile....
"What did you say?" I ask.
"I said I wish it wasn't over!" you repeat!
"Well here's the deal, guys," I say.
I give the group a moment to contain their excitement, and refocus on me.
"If we come back on a Thursday, Friday, or Saturday. They allow for groups (up to 12) to do after hours paranormal investigations of the Whaley House, starting at 10:30."
The group all exchanges enlivened looks.
"Are you down?" they ask each other with excited eyes.
"Can we use ghost hunting equipment?" someone asks.
I pause. I let the suspense build, until I have everyone on tenterhooks.
"You bet." I respond.
Excited buzz.
Our group started as a bunch of strangers, but after going through the haunted house together—the scares, the thrills, the little jokes—we are forever bonded.
"We'll be there!" someone announces on behalf of the whole group.
The whole group laughs. Who would have thought, one little Whaley House tour would lead to such an incredible adventure, and such incredible new friends!?
"Ok then! I'll book it. But before that, we have another stop to make......"
The Kate Morgan Room
"So how do we stay in the haunted room again?"
I stub out my 10th cigarette in just as many minutes. Despite my calm demeanor, you can tell I'm stressed.
"Well. The Hotel Del doesn't allow you to directly book the Kate Morgan room, aka room 3327. You have to book a room of equivalent value, and request the Kate Morgan room. If it's available, they put you in there."
"That's a lame system," you say.
"Well, __________, I agree."
There I go again. Being great with using names in conversation. You feel like the only person in the room.
"The last thing we want," I continue, "is to pay all this money for a room that isn't haunted. So what you have to do is game the system a little bit. If you walk in during offseason (especially winter) and on a weekday, you can ask them if the room is available, and book it right then."
"What if it isn't available?"
"Then you simply come back the next day. Getting to stay in the Kate Morgan room requires full commitment and dedication."
"Is it worth it?" you ask.
At your question, my eyes sweep over to the crashing waves of Coronado. You can tell I'm lost in a memory.
"Oh. It's worth it...." I respond, at last.
"Excuse me, sir?" the booking agent interjects.
This snaps me from my trance.
"The Kate Morgan room is unavailable. However we do have another room that is also haunted, if you'd like that one?"
"Absolutely not. Kate Morgan room or nothing. We'll be back tommorow."
As we leave, your stomach grumbles. Low at first, but it crescendos into a rumbly roar. In your excitement, you forgot to eat this morning.
"Hungry?" I ask.
"What gave me away?" you say, with a smirk.
"I know the perfect place. Follow me."
Roberto's Taco Shop
"Is this place haunted?" you ask.
We drove through Roberto's to get our food. There are a few tables out front, but no parking—so it can only be accessed on foot by locals. No trouble, we took it to-go, and are eating on the beach.
I smile in response to your question.
"Oh no, Roberto's isn't haunted. The food is SCARY good though!"
You laugh.
"San Diego is known for it's taco shops. Especially for it's California Burritos. Roberto's Taco Shop is widely considered to be the inventor of the California Burrito. What you're about to eat—is history."
You start to unroll your burrito to put hot sauce on it.
"Hold on there! In San Diego, we put hot sauce like this...."
I pour a little bit of hot sauce on the part of the burrito I'm about to bite, take the aforementioned bite, and then repeat the process. Alternating between saucing, and biting.
You think the technique is great, and try it yourself.
"Oh, wow! This is a great way to do it!"
"Isn't it?"
Now full, we sit on the beach and watch the crashing waves.
"What other cool ghost stuff is there in San Diego?" you ask.
"Honestly, it's pretty much just the Whaley House and the Hotel Del," I respond.
You're disapointed. You wish there were more haunted places in San Diego. Of course, you don't blame me. You know I don't make ghosts.
I sense your disapointment.
"It may not involve ghosts, but I think I know of something else you might enjoy. Follow me."
Tango Del Rey
It's 8 oclock on Friday night. We sit in the ballroom of Tango Del Rey.
There is essentially no one there.
"Wasn't the salsa lesson included in our $15 cover supposed to start at 8?" you ask.
"Yes, but things dont fully kick off until around 8:30."
Things are running late, but you don't mind. This place is cool, and it has a free (although tight) parking lot!
Suddenly, the room fills out with excited dancers of all skill levels.
The salsa class begins.
You're nervous—you've never danced salsa before!
But as it gets going, you realize it truly is an all level class, and you feel right at home.
After the class, Tango Del Rey transforms into a proper salsa bar.
You dance the night away. And a lifelong passion for dance is lit inside of you.
The end of the night...
After dancing your little heart out, it's now late. You can't wait for your head to hit the pillow.
Your vacation was so fun. The Whaley House? Hotel Del? Roberto's? Tango Del Rey? All perfect.
You want to say goodbye to me before you leave. The $100 tip you plan to give me doesn't feel like enough, because I curated such a good tour for you, but it's all you have on you.
"Excuse me? Do you see the man I came in here with?" you ask one of the security workers.
A look of confusion shoots across his face.
"You know, the guy I came in here with? About 6'1. Athletic build. Honey gold eyes?
He looks at you like you're crazy.
You only got here a few hours ago. It's not outrageous to assume the door security might remember who you walked in with!
You don't have time for this. The $100 tip weighs heavy in your hand.
Maybe I'm in the parking lot. You walk out to check.
"The man you're looking for... was he really good with names?"
You turn. It's an older woman.
She appraises you with curiosity—awaiting your response.
"Yes! Do you know him! He's a San Diego tourguide! I want to give him a big tip because he did such a good job!"
"He WAS a San Diego tourguide. His name is Spooky Ghosts."
"Was? What do mean was?" you ask, confused.
The old woman looks you in the eye, and what she says next makes your hair stand on end.
".....Spooky Ghosts died 10 years ago. You walked in here alone tonight."
You're Brave.
I see you've decided that you have what it takes to dance with death at some of San Diego's most haunted locations. *I look you up and down. You see a flicker of respect cross my face—I think you have what it takes. Or, at the very least, I hope you do.*
Follow me. If you dare. But do not be afraid to turn back if you get too scared...
Now, on to our first stop...
The Whaley House
"Oh! This just in! Guy giving haunted tour advice pitches the most Haunted House in the United States," someone in the back says.
His outburst drips with sarcasm, and you turn to me to see how I will handle this rude outburst.
You cringe in anticipation that my face will blush. Or that I will falter in the face of this cruel heckler.
But my face isn't flushed. Instead, a slow smirk crosses it.
"Well yeah. I wouldn't be a good ghost tour guide if I left the most haunted house in America off my tour. Now would I?"
The tour group howls with laughter—all of them on my side. The heckler, suddenly feeling isolated and alone, looks down at his feet—wishing he was invisible.
The benevolent god I am, I let the heckler off easy, "but you're right, it does get a little busy in there."
I shoot him a reassuring smile. He is greatful that I allow him to save face with the group, especially after I clearly demolished him with my wit.
"Has everyone already paid the $18 and made their reservations for the spooky evening tour?" I ask the group.
They all nod. The excitement is palpable. The smiles? Ear to ear.
This is why I got into the ghost tourism game—the electricity.
"Evening tour?" you ask (because by now you've realized how approachable I am as a tourguide, and that you don't have to be afraid to ask questions. In fact, you get the vibe that I love questions!), "they do daytime ghost tours?"
"Good question, _________," I respond.
You notice that I'm great with names.
"The day tours, although they cover SOME of the paranormal aspects of the Whaley House, tend to cover a lot more of the historical significance of the building. The Greek Revival architecture, the homemade brickwork, etc," I continue.
"Oh wow. Good to know!" you respond.
"Oh! I think our tour is about to begin!" I say.
We had arrived 20 minutes before our reservation, as instructed. Now, at last, we are ushered through the dimly lit entry into... The Whaley House!
40 minutes later, we emerge.
You glisten with sweat. You're afraid.... and it's exciting.
"Oh my goodness! I wish it wasn't over!"
I look back at you, with a smile....
"What did you say?" I ask.
"I said I wish it wasn't over!" you repeat!
"Well here's the deal, guys," I say.
I give the group a moment to contain their excitement, and refocus on me.
"If we come back on a Thursday, Friday, or Saturday. They allow for groups (up to 12) to do after hours paranormal investigations of the Whaley House, starting at 10:30."
The group all exchanges enlivened looks.
"Are you down?" they ask each other with excited eyes.
"Can we use ghost hunting equipment?" someone asks.
I pause. I let the suspense build, until I have everyone on tenterhooks.
"You bet." I respond.
Excited buzz.
Our group started as a bunch of strangers, but after going through the haunted house together—the scares, the thrills, the little jokes—we are forever bonded.
"We'll be there!" someone announces on behalf of the whole group.
The whole group laughs. Who would have thought, one little Whaley House tour would lead to such an incredible adventure, and such incredible new friends!?
"Ok then! I'll book it. But before that, we have another stop to make......"
The Kate Morgan Room
"So how do we stay in the haunted room again?"
I stub out my 10th cigarette in just as many minutes. Despite my calm demeanor, you can tell I'm stressed.
"Well. The Hotel Del doesn't allow you to directly book the Kate Morgan room, aka room 3327. You have to book a room of equivalent value, and request the Kate Morgan room. If it's available, they put you in there."
"That's a lame system," you say.
"Well, __________, I agree."
There I go again. Being great with using names in conversation. You feel like the only person in the room.
"The last thing we want," I continue, "is to pay all this money for a room that isn't haunted. So what you have to do is game the system a little bit. If you walk in during offseason (especially winter) and on a weekday, you can ask them if the room is available, and book it right then."
"What if it isn't available?"
"Then you simply come back the next day. Getting to stay in the Kate Morgan room requires full commitment and dedication."
"Is it worth it?" you ask.
At your question, my eyes sweep over to the crashing waves of Coronado. You can tell I'm lost in a memory.
"Oh. It's worth it...." I respond, at last.
"Excuse me, sir?" the booking agent interjects.
This snaps me from my trance.
"The Kate Morgan room is unavailable. However we do have another room that is also haunted, if you'd like that one?"
"Absolutely not. Kate Morgan room or nothing. We'll be back tommorow."
As we leave, your stomach grumbles. Low at first, but it crescendos into a rumbly roar. In your excitement, you forgot to eat this morning.
"Hungry?" I ask.
"What gave me away?" you say, with a smirk.
"I know the perfect place. Follow me."
Roberto's Taco Shop
"Is this place haunted?" you ask.
We drove through Roberto's to get our food. There are a few tables out front, but no parking—so it can only be accessed on foot by locals. No trouble, we took it to-go, and are eating on the beach.
I smile in response to your question.
"Oh no, Roberto's isn't haunted. The food is SCARY good though!"
You laugh.
"San Diego is known for it's taco shops. Especially for it's California Burritos. Roberto's Taco Shop is widely considered to be the inventor of the California Burrito. What you're about to eat—is history."
You start to unroll your burrito to put hot sauce on it.
"Hold on there! In San Diego, we put hot sauce like this...."
I pour a little bit of hot sauce on the part of the burrito I'm about to bite, take the aforementioned bite, and then repeat the process. Alternating between saucing, and biting.
You think the technique is great, and try it yourself.
"Oh, wow! This is a great way to do it!"
"Isn't it?"
Now full, we sit on the beach and watch the crashing waves.
"What other cool ghost stuff is there in San Diego?" you ask.
"Honestly, it's pretty much just the Whaley House and the Hotel Del," I respond.
You're disapointed. You wish there were more haunted places in San Diego. Of course, you don't blame me. You know I don't make ghosts.
I sense your disapointment.
"It may not involve ghosts, but I think I know of something else you might enjoy. Follow me."
Tango Del Rey
It's 8 oclock on Friday night. We sit in the ballroom of Tango Del Rey.
There is essentially no one there.
"Wasn't the salsa lesson included in our $15 cover supposed to start at 8?" you ask.
"Yes, but things dont fully kick off until around 8:30."
Things are running late, but you don't mind. This place is cool, and it has a free (although tight) parking lot!
Suddenly, the room fills out with excited dancers of all skill levels.
The salsa class begins.
You're nervous—you've never danced salsa before!
But as it gets going, you realize it truly is an all level class, and you feel right at home.
After the class, Tango Del Rey transforms into a proper salsa bar.
You dance the night away. And a lifelong passion for dance is lit inside of you.
The end of the night...
After dancing your little heart out, it's now late. You can't wait for your head to hit the pillow.
Your vacation was so fun. The Whaley House? Hotel Del? Roberto's? Tango Del Rey? All perfect.
You want to say goodbye to me before you leave. The $100 tip you plan to give me doesn't feel like enough, because I curated such a good tour for you, but it's all you have on you.
"Excuse me? Do you see the man I came in here with?" you ask one of the security workers.
A look of confusion shoots across his face.
"You know, the guy I came in here with? About 6'1. Athletic build. Honey gold eyes?
He looks at you like you're crazy.
You only got here a few hours ago. It's not outrageous to assume the door security might remember who you walked in with!
You don't have time for this. The $100 tip weighs heavy in your hand.
Maybe I'm in the parking lot. You walk out to check.
"The man you're looking for... was he really good with names?"
You turn. It's an older woman.
She appraises you with curiosity—awaiting your response.
"Yes! Do you know him! He's a San Diego tourguide! I want to give him a big tip because he did such a good job!"
"He WAS a San Diego tourguide. His name is Spooky Ghosts."
"Was? What do mean was?" you ask, confused.
The old woman looks you in the eye, and what she says next makes your hair stand on end.
".....Spooky Ghosts died 10 years ago. You walked in here alone tonight."