A few months ago, I went to visit my friend Phase, who was staying in Boston. Originally my trip was supposed to be only one night, but given that it had been almost three years ago, if ever, that I had spent an entire weekend away from the city, I decided to make it a traditional full weekend journey. Given that I could only stay with Phase one night, and had no alternative places to stay, I was forced to go to online travel websites and ask them to give me their cheapest last minute deals. I ended up booking a place that, unbeknownst to me, is notorious for being one of the biggest pieces of shit in the US. Here are some of the reviews of the place, posted verbatim from TripAdvisor.com:

• "The owner was very odd and used to lurk the corridors waiting outside the bathroom at odd hours of the night but that was mild compared to the fellow guests in particular one man in his 50s who used to appear everytime me or my friends went to use the bathroom even if that meant pretending to use the bathroom every 5 mins. He would try to corner you or if you had already made it safely into the bathroom he would be working on the lock outside trying to get the door open. It got so bad we would have to go to the bathroom in pairs while the others watched from the little crack at the side of our door. Late at night we could hear his voice as he banged on our door manically and when we finally left the hostel for the bus station at 7am one morning he emerged from his room and glared at us holding his crotch and watched us from the top of the stairs while we lugged our luggage down the stairs."
• "The beds looked nasty, the sheets were stained and cig burned, the TV had no remote, the A/C barely worked, the door lock was nearly busted, etc. Worse than the dirtiest dorm room or trailer I've even seen. I would have preferred camping in a public park."
• "Avoid (name of hotel) like the plague, or you might just get it."
• "My husband and I were reminiscing about our worst hotel experience ever. By far, after 28 years of extensive traveling, (name of hotel) is the worst, scariest place still not condemned and still tricking visitors into staying there (where IS the health department, by the way? Who has jurisdiction?). To describe it as the Bates Motel from Psycho is a start."

So there you go. Bates Motel meets Rapist City meets Haunted House. For one night? Sounded like a wager to me. After five months in job-recession hell, I was in desperate need of a real adventure. If only I had known what kind of horror story this house had waiting for me.

After a long, uncomfortable and heavily trafficked bus ride, I arrived at this shithole. Old and dilapidated it was, to the point of almost falling apart. i was escorted up to my room by the maitre'd, a "New England redneck" who was almost as quaintly creepy as the reviews describe, and even physically resembled Norman Bates from "Psycho". My room came with asbestos-filled exposed brick walls, an 1800s-model push-button phone which did not work, and a 1950s-model TV which only picked up a single channel, a bizarre public-service station that looked like it was produced in the 70s' or before. The bedside desk contained a Christian Holy Bible, which most people would desperately need for any chance of surviving a night here. I'm surprised there was not a coke needle or a gun in there as well. This place was already giving me the willies. After settling into my room and changing for the night, I gave myself a quick tug to relieve my travel anxiety (Drama from Entourage is right, it works wonders).

Then I realized that the Burger King lunch I had on the rest stop of the bus ride was not fully out of my system. And my room did not even come equipped with its own restroom- I would have to walk out of my room and down a long hallway to get to it. So I pulled and turned the doorknob hard to leave my room, and the doorknob fell off the door! I tried wedging my finger into the doorknob frame to get it open. Then used my key. Both did not reach. I was trapped.

I took a deep breath, looked carefully at the walls to make sure they were not closing in on me in a Dr. Evil-type trap, or that this was not a bizarre Scare Tactics prank that one of my friends was pulling on me. After five minutes of paranoid staring around the room, I determined that neither was the case, and I really was stuck.

Then I looked to my phone. I considered calling Phase, who was 15 minutes away, to see if he would be of any help. Then I realized that he is cruel in nature, and that would be pretty much be like feeding myself to the wolves. He would most likely laugh in my face and tell me he hopes I get stuck in there for the whole weekend. I wisely decided against. But as I took out my phone to consider calling someone, I realized that my phone had long since died. My phone has a tendency to fuck with me and die at the worst possible moment, doesn't it? And since the hotel was so old, there was not a single electrical outlet that I could plug in to charge it. And naturally, no wi-fi network or landline. I opened my computer, and with what little juice I had on it, tried to jump on "Rick's Sandy Vagina", and other similarly named wireless networks from the college student housing located nearby. All required passwords. That was not an option.

At this moment, I looked back to any book I had read on Basic Survival 101 and any Worst-Case Scenario-type thing I have ever seen. I considered my options:

-I could use all the strength I have to try and bust down the door. There is very little chance of this succeeding, for there could be a metal coating directly behind the frame. And even if I do succeed, there is likely a multi-thousand dollar fine awaiting me for destruction of property, and possibly another date with a judge. No go

-I could jump out the window. Upon looking out though, I see that there is a three-story drop if I choose that option. Which would result in me breaking every bone in my body, thus costing hundreds of thousands of dollars in surgery to repair.

-I could scream my head off until someone hears me. If I choose this option then there is a chance I could be arrested for disturbing the peace, verbally abused for disturbing someone, or maybe there just won't be anyone out there to respond or give a shit that I'm locked in my room. After all, I come from New York City, where no one gives a crap about you, talks to you, smiles at you, or even acknowledges your presence if you're in such a situation. But considering that it could potentially save harm to both my wallet and my body, I consider this to be the best option

Well Kitty Genovese may have been killed in New York because no one heard her tortured screams, but I put my hope and faith in the fact that someone in Massachusetts would be compassionate enough to respond to my cries for help. I opened the window as wide and I could and let loose at the top of my lungs: "HELLO! HELP! SOMEONE! IS ANYONE THERE!

Three floors below, cars passed, music blared from distant parties, car doors slammed, but no one heard me. I waited five minutes, conserved my breath, and tried again. No answer from outside the window. Then I went up to the busted door and hoped that someone in this madhouse of a hotel would have the piece of mind to respond.: I walked right up to the door and let loose: "HELLO! SOMEONE! ANYONE! PLEASE! PLEASE! HELLLOOOOO! 5 minutes of that, and no response. 5 minutes later, with my lungs burning from all the screaming, I tried again, with the hopes there would not be police nearby to suspect a murder: HELLO! SOMEONE! Then just for the fact that I may be stuck in there for awhile, I started to mix up the things I screamed, even throwing in a quote from Will Ferrell in "Talladega Nights" at one point: "HELP ME GOD! HELP ME JESUS! HELP ME TOM CRUISE!" Nothing.

And then, with my throat burning from screaming so hard, one last-gasp "HELLLLOOOOOOOOOO!" Then, like an answer from the Gods, I heard a response "Hello" from the other side of the door!

Me: Yes! Yes! God are you there? Hello.

Older Female voice: Hello.

Me: Yes, Thank you.

Female Voice: What in God's tarnation is all that racked about in there? I'm tryin' to sleep goshdarnit!

Me: I am trapped in my fucking room. The door handle fell off. Please get whoever is at the front desk to come up here with a key to this room immediately

Female voice: I'll see what I can do.

Me: Thank God.

At this point I crossed my fingers and said a prayer, one of the few times in my life I was reduced to prayer and desperation. This woman seemed like she was in no mood to show any kind of compassion. But five minutes later, I heard someone coming up the stairs, and then after what seemed like an eternity, saw the empty door handle frame turn, and a covered-in-sweat Norman Bates open the door and enter the room.

Norman: What in God's name is the problem here?

Me (pointing to door handle on the floor) Um, that.

Norman: Oh, damn that's the third door handle I've had to fix today. Why don't you just open the door with the lock handle from now on, and I'll see if I can fix 'er in the mornin'.

Me: Um, thanks then. I'll do my best.

Norman: Happy sleepins'.

I don't think I have ever been as relieved to see a redneck as I was there at that second. That kind of physical relief was a good pick-me-up after a half hour of genuine fear. I then decided that for me to have any chance of getting sleep in such an awful place, I would have to get as drunk as physically possible. I went out to all my old favorite bars from college for and did exactly that for the next five hours, drinking as much as I could, as fast as I could, and not giving a shit about money spent. This night culminated in me getting kicked out of one of my all-time favorite bars, exactly at the moment three of my old best friends from college were coming in, leaving them to all ask themselves the question "What the hell happened to Sherm?" Read this story and you will see why I was in such a badly wasted state.

After surviving the night and checking out of the hotel the next morning without any other catastrophes or the ghosts of rape victims past showing up in my room, I realized that a survival-seeking adventure was exactly what I had needed. In the months since, I realized that I have not felt any sense of joy as real and palpable as when I saw that door frame open. As a matter of fact, with their affordable nightly rates and reputation for danger, I think I might have to rent the Bates Hotel out for a residency. Haunted House 2009 maybe? Who's ready to get scurred?

"Out Of Body Experience"

Guest Written By Kadavir

I have known Scotty Dukes for years more than anyone should know anyone, and I can honestly say that I have never been as intrigued by a single person in my entire life. Me & my brother C-Town, as well as our friends Panic, Mastafork, G, Casa Nova and then rest of us, cannot get enough of Scotty's unique and odd behaviors. I for one, cannot stop watching Scotty's You Tube videos. I have memorized every single word of them, and I recommend you check them out if you have not already, for they contain a treasure trove of bizarre facial expressions, odd voices, and the like. Watching this character provides hours of entertainment for all.

I've been wanting to come on here and tell this tale for awhile, but due to viral marketing campaigns, hours of watching and dissecting every frame of Lost online, multiple screenings of The The Dark Knight and other "commitments", I have been unable to do so.

But now here I am, to tell you all about a time when Scotty, well, wasn't exactly himself, the great character and storyteller we all know and love. It was as if at this moment, he decided that his station in life was too pathetic and left a far more fragile emotional shell-of-a-being to take control of his body. This moment happened last New Year's Eve.

New Year's 2007/08

Having thrown a series of very eventful and unforgettable New Year's parties in years past, our friend Panic decided to give Scotty Dukes relief this year by throwing our annual gathering at his vacant apartment. Panic invited a group of us to come and do as we desired.

I woke up on December 31st, and excitedly checked my Facebook to see what an exciting night lay before us. But before I could check the guestlist, I recieved an application request from our friend "Anime": "Anime has sent an invitation using Elven Blood. Anime wants you to join his party in Elven Blood, a fantasy RPG on Facebook?. Band together with your friends to become the most powerful elven force in the realm!" I happily declined his request, knowing then and there that a glorious New Year's event lay ahead for our group.

They weren't always the kids who got invited to any New Year's parties. They never really drank, instead they united under a desire to beat every single level of every game on Legendary mode, and down-pour their parents' hard-earned money to support every superhero or comic book movie on opening weekend. But now, at Panic's house, this was Their New Year's. Or so we thought, until our festivities were derailed by a far greater show. The Scotty Dukes Gets Coma-Capacitated Drunk And Makes A Scene Extravaganza.

The previous two years on NYE, our friend Casa Nova was the one to make a horrendous public spectacle of near-comatoseness. Casa Nova was in attendance this night. But having settled down with a nice girlfriend, "Rocky", and having to get up and work early the next morning, Nova was taking it easy tonight, mostly just cuddling up in a corner with Rocky and enjoying himself, enjoying the fact that he was sober, clean, and actually enjoying a new year with his girl for once. For now, the torch of embarrassment had been passed to Scotty Dukes. We all were enjoying the show, but for Scotty I knew this would not end well.

We arrived early at the party site and my friends converted the living room into an Xbox shrine, setting up Rock Band and other games as Scotty Dukes and other outsiders drank beers and vodka shots. They were in their own world, so it didn't concern anybody exactly how bad Scotty was getting. He had been drinking non-stop since 4PM, and knowing that his friend and our worst nightmare, Frat Poison Phase was on his way, he kept excitedly shoving beers and shots down his throat. He even stopped by the Rock Band booth to lend his unique vocal stylings to several tracks. I could somehow tell that it was still Scotty in there, but he was fading fast.

At around 10PM, Phase and his group of college revelers came in, and immediately we knew that our playtime was over. He grabbed Scotty Dukes and began to recite a fraternity chant at the top of his lungs, to the disgust of all. He then went on to attack and destroy my friends' whole setup, telling us that what we were doing was wrong and criminal. He proceeded to threaten to disarm the Xbox console and call them out for being a disgrace. Scotty, who will usually take our side on such causes, was surprisingly absent for defense, for he was busy lining up a game of his own. Scotty had challenged Phase to a shot contest, and was busy pouring a line of shots of the hardest liquor he could find.

However, I could have cared less at the time; for I was more concerned with trying to watch someone nail the bass part for South Park's "Timmy & The Lords Of The Underworld" theme on a plastic controller than with Scotty Dukes' soul teetering over edge. A few minutes later I heard Phase and Scotty yelling out the numbers of each shot in rapid succession, followed by two loud "thuds" of a shot glass on the table. I heard a good number of these as I stared at a guitar-shaped plastic controller. But then, with a deafening yell in a tone I have never before heard out of the bowels of Scotty's mouth, he screamed: "Stop man. STOP! I've had enough"

This was enough to make me put down my attention of the game and sit back to enjoy the fireworks about to unfold. After his screaming outburst, I saw Scotty stumble away from the drinking table, fall down, get back up, then dead sprint toward Panic's restroom. Phase, ever the one for compassion, taunted him as he ran: "C'mon you fucking pansy. I have a 102 degree fever and I still outdrank your fat ass." The door to Panic's bathroom was slammed, and we all attentively listened, awaiting the sounds of the devil to come out of there. Sure enough, there they came, loud and clear: BLAAAAHHHHH! BWAAAHHHH!" Panic was quickly alerted of this disturbance, and went into the bathroom to clean up the mess of Scotty's vomit and scoop up the remains of his body.

Scotty was plopped down on the couch, where he sat lifeless. We were forced to abandon all efforts to continue gaming activities, as Scotty's lifeless body required space on our couch. Midnight was fast approaching, as demand increased to put the ball drop on TV instead of the games. Scotty Dukes never saw the ringing in of the year 2008. However, with a series of events my worst fears were confirmed. Scotty was no longer with us.

-First, he put his middle finger up in the air, completely passed out. We all gathered around to take photographs of the spectacle. He lay there, completely motionless, middle finger in the air for at least a good half hour. The party around him was at its height, but I could see in his eyes that he was in a far off place.

-The ball drop came and went, yet his lifeless body still remained, middle finger raised high. Then, I heard a strange noise emerge from the depths of his soul. An internal scream. It was a hysterical sobbing sound. I motioned to those around me, to make sure I was not the only one hearing this. Sure enough, Scotty was crying. And not just any cry, but hysterically bawling. I had never seen him cry in my entire life before.

-Then, he saw an image of current New York Knicks coach Isaiah Thomas on the TV screen. Between sobs, I heard a voice very unlike any sound I have heard out of Scotty's mouth say: "Fuck Isaiah Thomas". I motioned to him, "Wait, what did you just say?". In a pathetic whimper of a voice he said "Fuck Isaiah Thomas. FUCK HIM TO HELL! It's because of him that my team is in shambles. Why can't we just be good again. Why? WHYYYYYY?" Scotty is generally an emotionally strong dude, who often looks down on and scorns those of us who show any signs of fragility. But now, in front of my eyes I saw a tender creature replace the man usually occupying his body.

-Phase, who had just finished a long midnight make-out session with his girlfriend, returned to the scene. Upon one look at Scotty's corpse, he had this to say: "Haha, are you serious? What a fucking pansy he is. OK, you drank too much. Just Suck it up, and don't be a whiny little bitch."

-These words just made Scotty sob more. This being occupying his body obviously was quite a whiner. Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw a white light coming from his direction. Upon closer inspection, he had somehow put his headphones on and was watching a video on his Ipod. I tapped him on the shoulder and asked what he was watching. Upon even closer inspection, as we all expected he was watching his very favorite Youtube video, "Dad At Comedy Barn".

-He then put his arm around me in a typical "I love you, bro" manner, and proceeded to give me a comatose diatribe: "My life sucks right now. This is gonna be an awful year for me and I know it. But let me tell you, man, this video right here is the only thing that can save my soul" Astonished, I looked around to other members of our group to see if they were hearing this. Other conflicts had arisen within the party which everyone else was tending to, so I was able to enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime show all to myself. He continued: "Why am I not dead right now? I should have died years ago. Who knows if I'll be here next year."

-He proceeded to bash every member of his family for getting him into this perilous state: "If it were not for my mom, I would not be here, doing what I'm doing now. She needs to just leave me alone, I hate her, I HATE HER!" He was giving the perfect anti-acceptance speech at the Oscars. Even THIS came out of his mouth: "Oh, God. Oh, God why? God, if you're there, please help me out here, man. C'mon dude, just gimme a fucking break man." (Notice how he refers to God as one of his frat brothers almost.) By this point, several other members of our gang had gathered around to listen to and mock Scotty, for we knew we were seeing a unique moment.

Panic then emerged from his room, where he was tending to several other guests at his party. He had been alerted of the situation, and proceeded to shake Scotty's body very hard, many times in rapid succession, while screaming in his ear with the wide-eyed tone of a party host whose "small gathering of friends" had gone horribly wrong: "What the fuck are you doing, man? WHAT the FUCK are you doing? Get the fuck up now Scotty, Get The Fuck Up!" Panic had heard and seen enough.

For a breif moment, the real Scotty took back control of his body. It was almost like that scene at the end of The Exorcist when the little girl comes back into her own body: "What... where am I?...What's Happening?" he stammered, in a tone and vocal inclination far different from the kind he was talking in moments before. Scotty reassured Panic he would be alright, before passing back out again. He was going nowhere fast. However, before this fragile being could take control of his body once more, along came Phase to the rescue. As much as I hate Phase and despise everything he stands for, I have to admit that he really helped Scotty Dukes out big time at this juncture. Well on second thought, it was actually his girlfriend.

Phase yanked Scotty up and told him: "Dude, me and my girlfriend are heading back to Brooklyn, and she wants to put you in a cab, man". Groggily, Scotty got up and stumbled around several times, before following Phase out the door. I then got down and said a little prayer for Scotty Dukes, because I knew getting him home under his own volition in this precarious state would be a struggle. And besides, it was only 1AM, still many hours away from when bars closed on New Year's.

It turns out Scotty did not take the cab home as Phase's girlfriend ordered, but took it to a bar instead, where he lay down on a bench for over an hour, before getting forcibly removed by a bouncer. Apparently, he was later seen banging his head violently outside of another bar playing Blur's classic "Song 2", after the bouncer there had refused to let him in. There is no reliable or substantial witness to this claim. However, having read the rest of this website, there is nothing that suggests otherwise.

Fast-forward to two weeks later, when me and my brother C-Town were recounting to a sober Scotty Dukes the details of his demise. After each one, he had a pitiful and sorry expression on his face, and exclaimed loudly "Nooo! Did I REALLY do that? Holy shit! Holy shit I have absolutely no memory of any of this! Hopefully, I will never do anything like this ever again."

Well I got some news for you. This author just turned 21, just so i can watch these "experiences", and I have witnessed Scotty Dukes drinking to the point of near-lunacy on multiple occasions even in the past couple months. And after watching his behavior when he goes out to bars, it's easy to see why many of these stories happen. Well this coming New Year's is less than four months away. Then, we will truly see if he is true to his word. You're on, Dukes!