Tavern on the Scream!

We drove by this spooky haunted house tavern on the way to the Ashokan Reservoir.

The entrance was barred, indicating that trespassers were not welcome. Trepidations be damned, I had to approach it for a closer inspection.

Everything about the place - the choking weeds, the peeling paint, the dusty neon beer signs - suggested it hadn't seen a patron in years.

I could almost make out an old lady rocking behind that upper window.

Just when I thought I couldn't possibly freak myself out any more, a woman appeared from around the corner, eyeing me suspiciously.  She didn't mince words: "Whattaya want?" Sheepishly, I said, "A drink?" "Well, we don't open til the evening," she replied. Translation: "Skedaddle, sweetheart." I managed to take one more picture before thanking her for the info. Judging by these cans, the place does a brisk business. If I get up the nerve, maybe I'll pop in one night for a Bud. Or maybe not.

Note to downstaters: if you're on someone's property, wherever they are, they will know - it's some kind of 6th sense that city folk just aren't wired for.