The elevators in the Horseshoe have an exceptionally frustrating “feature.” If you select more than three floors (in this elevator that services floors 5-15) it blanks all selections and suddenly no floors are selected. During the first day or two here I only noticed it sporadically, but as the conference breaks send many of us scurrying back up to our rooms at a moment’s notice, suddenly eight people are trying to select five floors and… chaos.
After the third time it deselected the floors selected, a woman explained, “It’s a feature to keep people from hitting all the buttons as they leave the elevator.” There was a collective “oh”… but it didn’t really help the frustration.
The woman took charge: “Alright, first three floors: anyone on 5, 6, or 7?” through this method she got the first three floors and as we hit each subsequent floor she asked whose floor was next and it really went well.
After the 11th floor it was just myself and the woman and her daughter.
“That makes sense – the only three floor thing,” I said, breaking the new silence in the elevator. “And here I just thought it was haunted,” I quipped. Her daughter laughed, but the woman said, “Well, it could be that too, given the history of the place.”
She had my full and complete attention. “Oh? Tell me more…” I said as the elevator doors opened on floor 14 and the three of us stepped off.
“Well, you know the Horseshoe Casino used to be Bally’s, right?”
I nodded.
“And before that it was MGM Grand…”
“Right…” I didn’t see where this was going.
“Well, in 1980 there was a big fire here. Killed 85 people.”
I stopped. “Wait, here here?”
“Yeah, this very tower – the other one wasn’t built until after the fire closed the hotel.”
“So, you mean there’s ghost stories about this hotel, this tower? And we’re staying on the ‘fourteenth’ floor.”
She snickered. Her daughter looked quizzically at her. “Most buildings don’t have a 13th floor – it’s superstition. But since this would technically be the 13th floor…”
“Oh!” her daughter nodded.
“Anyway, yeah, the fire radically changed how they built buildings and hotels after that – there were no sprinklers, for example. The stairwells weren’t sealed, so the fire used the stairwells as virtual chimneys. Most of the people who died were trying to go down the stairs and suffered smoke inhalation.”
“Oh my god,” I said, “That’s terrible!”
“Yeah, the ghost hunter types say you can still hear phantom screams and cries in the stairwells of this tower.”
I stopped and stood silent.
“You’re totally going to go check out the stairwells, aren’t you?” the woman asked.
“Well, I mean, I write ghost stories! Of course I am!” I exclaimed as I reached my door and fumbled for my key.
She laughed. “Well, have fun and don’t blame me if you get a good scare!” she waved and she and her daughter walked straight through the closed door opposite mine.
