Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Breaker, breaker, this is WAR1974 calling out from Route 36, heading South. Don’t worry, I’m not going to Denver. I’ll drive right past but…I assume that’s okay? You still haven’t told me anything about why I should avoid it, so— [click, static] I think—I think my last transmission probably cut off. I was in the hotel, in that room, Room 217, talking on the CB somehow when all of a sudden, whatever phantom power had been keeping it going just…died. The moment it did—in the exact moment the radio went dark, not a second before—there was this flicker. The man that I’d seen, the—the ghost? Hallucination, whatever. He appeared again, just for a moment. By the door. Suitcase in hand, looking over his shoulder as he put his hand on the doorknob. He was looking around the room like he was expecting to see something. And for that one second, I could’ve sworn that he saw me. That’s impossible right? I mean, the whole thing is impossible. The weird feeling, my CB turning on by itself, with no power hookup, seeing a person who isn’t there…none of it makes sense. And he looked…he just looked like a normal person. He wasn’t dressed in, I don’t know, old timey clothes, he didn’t have chains around his arms or gashes in his face or any of the things you would expect to see on a ghost. 
He didn’t look like a ghost. [click, static] God, am I a person who has opinions on what ghosts are supposed to look like now? Anyway, I’m doing better now that I’m away from there. It was—it wasn’t scary exactly— [click, static] Alright, no, it was fucking scary. But it was scariest when I was in my room alone that night, not when I followed the feeling and saw the apparition the next morning. That was just— That was walking into the wrong room and seeing another hotel guest checking out. That’s all it was. Except there were no other guests. There’s never any other guests at any of the places I stay. And maybe…maybe he never checked out. [click, static] I’m glad to be putting that place in my fucking rearview. [click, static]