A few years ago, I bartended in a dark, dank, creepy, hole-in-the-wall bar. During that time, I'd witnessed countless "weird things" done by my regular (read: rowdy) customers, enough to fill a book. This story, however, is about the poltergeist activity that I witnessed inside that bar. This "rowdy behavior," I can't attribute to my regular (read: living) patrons.
I was all alone in the bar the first time it happened.
I was sitting at the bar watching the TV, waiting for customers to come in, when one of the margarita glasses that was hanging upside down above the bar slid out of the overhead glass rack, and BROKE IN MIDAIR. The broken glass pieces REMAINED SUSPENDED for 2 to 3 seconds before they finally dropped, falling to the ground. It was exactly like something out of a B-rated horror movie, only it was real; happening right in front of my eyes.
"Why bother telling anyone; I'm here all alone, nobody's going to believe me," I muttered to myself as I picked up the shards. I never mentioned it to my boss or coworkers. It's weird, because at the time, I was more concerned that they would think I was crazy. However, now that I don't work there anymore, remembering it really creeps me out.
Fast forward 2 or 3 days.
I was sitting in the same spot, my mom was sitting next to me (like I said, it was a creepy old bar that got a lot of weird customers, so she would be there a lot to make sure nothing happened to me), while the busboy Marcos was crouched down at the fridge under the TV, stocking my beer when it happened again. My mom freaked out, jumping out of her chair, and yelling, "Did you guys SEE that?! That glass just SLID out on its own and broke! Did you SEE THAT?! What the hell is going on here?!"
I remember the busboy Marcos and I just looked at each other and shrugged, both admitting that, "Yeah, I saw it."
At the time I just felt relieved that someone else had seen it, and then I KNEW I hadn't been tripping the other day after all.
When I told my mom that the same thing had happened to me the other day, she asked me, "Why the hell didn't you TELL me this before?" I think it was because, like I said, I had been alone the first time, and rather than say something to anyone, I just tried to put it out of my mind, because I couldn't rationally explain why it happened to me. By the time I got home from work I had done so well putting it out of my mind I had forgotten to tell her.
My mother was terrified. She had never seen anything like that before, and wanted me to quit. I stayed there for a long time after, and it never happened again to me.
Oddly though, Marcos and I never talked about it, even though we could discuss just about everything else.
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