A Skyscraper with a Sense of Humor

If you've ever flown over Manhattan, you may have observed something rather unusual. On top of 77 Water Street in New York's financial district is a bright green landing strip and a WWI era aircraft. The Sopwith Camel plane is an art installation created in 1969 by Rudolph de Harak and William Tarr. It's only purpose is to amuse the workers in nearby skyscrapers.

The Only "Apartment" in Grand Central Station

Grand Central Station in Manhattan is one of the most famous train stations in the world, and like many of New York's historic buildings, it has its own share of secrets. For instance, of the millions of people hurry through the station every year, most are unaware of the existence of a mysterious room called the "Campbell Apartment."

Tucked away in a hidden corner of the building, the magnificent space features an unusual mix of Medieval and Renaissance decor. There's an enormous fireplace, painted ceilings, and wood-paneled walls. This was once the strange and wonderful office of John W. Campbell.

A wealthy businessman, John Campbell built his Grand Central office in the early 1920s. He made sure his unusual workspace came with all the amenities--a kitchen, butler, pipe organ, and a Persian rug worth 3.5 million dollars in today's money. Very little is known about the eccentric Mr. Campbell, and some have suggested that he may have actually lived in the train station--a theory many experts reject.

When Campbell died in 1957, his "apartment" became the Grand Central jail. In the late 1990's, however, the space was restored to its former glory and used to house a bar. Finding it may require a little searching, but it's well worth the trouble.

New York Scavenger Hunt

The New York Times has never been known for its whimsicality, but perhaps that’s about to change. (And I’m not sure how I feel about it.) This weekend, they’re sponsoring a scavenger hunt. Anyone with a camera is invited to submit photos of sights that are unique to the greatest city on earth. A short sample:

Worst (most disgusting) bagel toppings
Most unusual fruit for sale (I nominate the durian—see below.)
Cheesiest Statue of Liberty souvenir (aren’t they all?)
Worst dressed dog
Most dogs with one human (minimum four dogs)
Most useful piece of garbage
Pedestrian triple-tasking (people doing at least three things at once—while walking)

However, should you take a picture of a celebrity, you’ll be fined 20 points. In New York, you’re supposed to ignore them.

I would like to add the following to the New York Times list:

Sewer alligators (+100 points if they're albino)
Exploding manhole (happens more often than you’d think)
Mole people
Fiercest subway rat (that might be too easy)
Kamikaze pigeons
Most questionable meat product
Highest ranking member of an organized crime family
Female cab driver (why aren’t there more?)
Unusual city wildlife (choose from a list of beavers, turkeys, coyotes, dolphins, seals, and reality TV stars)
The Irregulars logo

Blackbeard's Ship Discovered

Archaeologists believe they have discovered the remains of Blackbeard's ship, the Queen Anne's Revenge, in the waters off the coast of North Carolina. Though Blackbeard, aka Edward Teach, enjoyed only a brief (two year) career as a pirate, his legend has lasted almost three centuries.

Renowned for his cruelty, Blackbeard is rumored to have shot his own first mate, an act he explained by noting that if he didn’t shoot a sailor or two now and then, they might forget who he was. He's also said to have prepared for battle by winding flaming matches into his beard--an inspired bit of stagecraft, which led many a foe to compare his appearance to that of the devil. (How Blackbeard managed to save his whiskers from incineration is anyone's guess.)

In 1718, Blackbeard was killed and beheaded by naval officers acting on the orders of Virginia's governor. (His head was suspended from the bow of a navy ship as a warning to other pirates.) Legend has it that when his headless body was thrown overboard, it swam around the ship several times before sinking.

As for treasure, aside from a few bits of jewelry and some artifacts that only an archaeologist could love, there's unlikely to be much aboard the Queen Anne's Revenge. If, as many believe, Blackbeard did indeed have a treasure, it's still out there waiting to be found.

Below: Blackbeard's Dreaded Flag

Not So Funny Money

According to the Gothamist, there are quite a few counterfeit bills floating around New York these days. If you want to avoid the embarrassment (and financial suffering) that comes with having your money confiscated by the savvy clerk at Starbucks, it's probably a good idea to learn how to tell a fake bill from a real one.

The Secret Service has a great website that can teach you to identify counterfeit money. You can also check out these PDFS that show you how to examine $50 and $100 bills.

Strange Fruit

For years, I've been intrigued by the Southeast Asian durian fruit. Not only is it extremely large and covered in needle-sharp spikes (somewhat like a medieval weapon), its fruit is said to possess one of the foulest odors known to man.

While the taste of the durian is considered a delicacy in many parts of the world, the smell has been described as "dead dog," "gym sock," "stale vomit," "skunk spray," and "sewage." In fact the odor is so powerful that the durian is banned from many public places in Southeast Asia. Once the fruit is open, its odor can it can taint an entire room or subway car. That's why every spring, Malaysian hotels battle their own customers to keep the fruit out of their buildings. An interesting video report on these "Durian Wars" can be found on the National Geographic website.

This morning I had an opportunity to sample the strange fruit. (And of course, I was careful to open it outside.) The fragrance was reminiscent of a rotten Easter egg that's been forgotten under the sofa and rediscovered sometime in May. The flavor and texture, however, were not unlike custard. A really eggy custard. (If you like eggs, which I don't, it would probably be delicious. I can understand why durians can sell for up to $50.) All in all, it was a very unusual experience--one I probably won't be repeating any time soon.

Escape from Central Park Zoo

In the photo above, a zoo in Tokyo practices for an escaped animal emergency by dressing one of its workers in an orangutan suit and shooting him with a tranquilizer dart.

Very, very odd. (See a real orangutan escape here.)

On the subject of zoo escapes, here's a short article about one of the most famous hoaxes in New York history. In 1874, the New York Herald reported that lions, rhinoceroses, and other dangerous beasts had escaped from the Central Park Zoo and were on the loose in Manhattan. Citizens fled for their lives or took up arms to protect their homes. Of course, few people bothered to finish the article, which stated quite clearly at the bottom that the entire story had been a fabrication.

Dangerous Toast

If Kiki Strike could eat toast, this would be her toaster. The very best of German engineering.

Beavers Return to the City

For the first time in 200 years, beavers have been spotted in New York City. This may not sound like big news to those of you who live in more pristine environments, but it's caused a great deal of excitement here. The waters around New York were once a wildlife paradise--home to seals, dolphins, and foot-long oysters. But by modern times, pollution and hunting had put an end to all that.

The sight of a young, male beaver setting up house in the Bronx River is a sign that New York's waters are healthier--but also a sign that the beavers' wooded upstate habitat is shrinking. Seems most of these creatures would prefer to stay out of the city, but they may no longer have a choice.

The New York Times has a great video of the beaver, which biologists named Jose. (In may not last long, so take a look while you have the chance.)

Secret of the Empire State Building

There are many things in life that seem ordinary—even dull—until you bother to take a closer look. Most people would agree that a freeway is nothing more than a featureless stretch of asphalt designed to put drivers to sleep. It might surprise them to learn that many of America’s highways were built with a secret function in mind. In times of war, these straight, broad, boring roads are meant to double as landing strips for airplanes.

Likewise, thousands of people visit the observation deck of the Empire State Building and marvel at the city below, without ever realizing that the tower on top of the building was built to be a dock for enormous blimps known as zeppelins.

Before the jet age began, zeppelins were thought to be a viable means of transporting passengers across the Atlantic. (That dream died one day in 1937 when a German zeppelin named the Hindenburg burst into flames over New Jersey.) The Empire State Building, the tallest building in the world when it was finished in 1931, seemed an ideal landing port. However, strong winds made it far too dangerous for the skyscraper to serve its original function. Only one landing was ever successfully made--and it lasted a mere three minutes.

Still, I can't help but imagine how fantastic it would it be to fly from Europe and arrive in America at the top of the Empire State Building.

How to Cope with City Living

Yesterday, Manhattan's Union Square Park was the site of a massive pillow fight. Hundreds of New Yorkers took out their aggression on their fellow citizens--using feathers and foam rather than the traditional elbows and fists. As much as I would have liked to whop a stranger or two, I had to skip the fight. But given the success of the event, there's sure to be another one next year.

For pictures, as well as a video of the 2006 NYC pillow fight, click here.

One Hungry Girl

I love Japan. What other country would raise competitive eating to an art form? For the past ten years, the Japanese have kicked butt in the annual July 4th Coney Island hot dog eating contest. Since 2000, the same man has claimed the prize. Takeru "The Tsunami" Kobayashi ate 56 hot dogs in 12 minutes last year. Just thinking about it makes me nauseous.

I'm not a proponent of gluttony, and competitive eating is not without its (very serious) risks. However, I'm pleased to hear that a woman has now emerged as a serious contender. As you might imagine, men have long dominated the "sport." (For obvious reasons: bigger stomachs and fewer inhibitions.) But in recent years, one very small woman has become the darling of the Japanese competitive eating world.

Natsuko Sone, known as "Gal" (a reference to her style of dress which would require a whole new post to explain properly), is 5'4 and weighs 95 pounds. Yet she regularly goes head-to-head with some of the most successful men in the business. Sone has been known to eat 183 pieces of sushi in thirty minutes and 20 pounds of food in an hour. Remarkably, medical tests performed on the prodigy have shown that her stomach is of normal size.

To see her in action, click here and here. Boy do I love Japanese variety shows.

Rats Invade Greenwich Village

This morning, the New York City Department of Health shut down a Greenwich Village Taco Bell after concerned citizens videotaped dozens of rats frolicking in the restaurant after it had closed for the night. In Manhattan, it's pretty hard to avoid rats. Anyone with a sharp eye could easily spot a few every day--scampering along the city's gutters and subway tracks. But I must admit that the video is truly shocking, even to a jaded New Yorker like myself.

And since we're on the subject of rats, I highly recommend the book Rats: Observations on the History and Habitat of New York's Most Unwanted Residents by Robert Sullivan. It's highly entertaining and a must-read for anyone who wants to understand one of mankind's greatest enemies.

Amazing Squid News!

A COLOSSAL squid (Mesonychoteuthis hamiltoni) was recently captured off the coast of New Zealand! (Pictured below.) As squid lovers know, this species is even bigger than the giant squid. In fact, one expert was quoted as saying that if calamari rings were made from the recently captured animal, they'd be as big as tractor tires. Very few colossal squid specimens have ever been discovered since the species was discovered in 1925.

More here.

Kiki Strike Around the World

The first international editions of Kiki Strike are coming out around the world, and I thought you might enjoy seeing the covers. There are many more to come!


Kiki in Japan


Kiki in Germany


Kiki in the Netherlands


Kiki in Italy

The Eavesdropper's Best Friend

In my opinion, you don't need to spend tons (or any) money to be a good detective/spy. However, from time to time, I run across a gadget that seems particularly useful. Then I ask a certain friend to replicate it for me. (I'm feeling very thrifty these days.)

I recently found the "M-7 Secret Agent Spy Ear." Who knows if it works, but the manufacturer of this tiny device says it will allow you to hear other people's conversations across "great distances." They also claim you can "hone in" on specific conversations in crowded environments. Cool? Absolutely. Too good to be true? Possibly.

The History of London in Maps

New York will always be my favorite place on earth, but there are other cities around the world that I find equally intriguing. (Tokyo, Buenos Aires, Rome, and Vienna to name just a few.) Among the most fascinating is London, once home to toxic fogs, Jack the Ripper, and the incomparable Queen Elizabeth I. Almost two thousand years older than New York, London has survived floods, fires, and the blitz. Today, it has more history per block than almost anywhere else on the planet.

Recently someone sent me a remarkable London-related link. (Thanks, Chris.) The British Library's website has an interactive feature that allows visitors to explore London's history through old maps of the city. Take a look when you have an hour to spare.

The Year of the Pig Has Arrived!

Yesterday was the Chinese New Year and the first day of the Year of the Pig. (It also happened to be Kirsten Miller's birthday, but that's another post.)

The Chinese Zodiac is represented by twelve animals. As with western astrology, a person's personality is thought to be influenced by the sign they're born under. People born in the Year of the Pig are supposedly loyal, honest, and friendly--although at times they can be pushy, lazy, and selfish. You can find your sign here.

New Year festivities have begun all over the world and will last until March 4th. However if you're in New York on February 25th, I highly recommend taking a trip to Chinatown for the annual parade and festival. The dragon dances are truly unbelievable.

An Apology and an Update

I am so sorry that your comments haven't been making it onto the blog for the past two months! There was an unforeseen technical problem. I hope you're not offended. The more comments the better, as far as I'm concerned! And thanks for all of the tips and links you've sent since December--I'm checking them all out now.

A couple of updates. The paperback Kiki Strike will be out in May, and there will be some great new stuff on the website around that time, so definitely check it out. Also, the next book should be available later this year!

As for my adventures in France, I'm going to start telling the story next month! (It took me this long to recover.)

PS: I know the photo doesn't have anything to do with this post, but I thought it was amazing. It's a huge, 450 pound jellyfish. No joke. Apparently, tons of these creatures invade the waters around China and Japan from time to time.

You Asked For It

I’ve been asked about the person to whom Kiki Strike is dedicated. This story is far too long for one post, but I’ll try to give you the basic facts.

Caroline McDonald was an Australian citizen, a world-class athlete, and a good friend to the Irregulars. Kiki and I first met her two years ago when she was shoved in front of a speeding subway train.

You don’t tend to forget such events, and I can still recall the evening in question in remarkable detail. It was shortly after 10 PM, and we were at the Union Square Station in downtown Manhattan, waiting for the number 5 train. A small, athletic-looking girl stood to our left, eating from a jumbo package of pork rinds. I remember marveling at her appetite. The girl could really pack it away.

Just as the train rounded the bend, a massive man in a hooded sweatshirt rose from a nearby bench and hurried in the direction of the tracks. I didn’t think much of it—the only people in New York who aren’t in a rush are the tourists. So I was shocked to see Kiki bolt toward the man with her fists clenched. She didn’t reach him in time. With one quick shove, he pushed the hungry girl onto the train tracks.

Witnesses screamed and ran for the exits (a response I can neither explain nor condone). The train’s conductor slammed on the emergency brake, and ten subway cars screeched to a halt. When I pushed through the fleeing crowds, I found Kiki sitting on top of the unconscious attacker, waiting for the police to arrive. She’d pulled his hood back, I could see he was young—no more than eighteen or nineteen-years-old. I heard the faint wail of sirens in the distance and a transit worker crying softly to himself. Then a muffled Aussie voice called out from below. “Would somebody get this *@%&*@ train off me?” (I won’t repeat her actual phrase, but you’ll probably curse, too, if you’re ever run over by a subway.)

If you read the papers, you may have heard the rest of the story. Thanks to her remarkable presence of mind and athletic training, Caroline had managed to roll in-between the tracks. The train missed her by inches. Her assailant was a college student named Eric Littleton. He and Caroline were both stars of the school’s renowned track team—a team Caroline was about to expose for its abuse of an illegal (yet undetectable) synthetic steroid.

Even with Eric Littleton (and two of his track coaches) in jail, Caroline’s life was still in danger. The Irregulars were happy to serve as her bodyguards—largely because she was so entertaining to have around. She regaled us with stories of Australia’s deadly wildlife and introduced us to a culinary wonder known as a meat pie. I coached her to fourth prize in the Coney Island hot dog eating contest, and she was the first person to read Kiki Strike: Inside the Shadow City. Without her help, I don’t know if Kirsten Miller and I could have convinced the Irregulars to let the book be published.

Six months after the subway incident, Caroline decided it was time to go home to her beloved Australia. The last time we saw her was when she stepped into an airport-bound taxi. Two weeks later, she disappeared on a camping trip near Uluru (otherwise known as Ayres Rock). The official story is that dingos were to blame, but the Irregulars suspect foul play and are still investigating.

The Hidden Treasures of New York

Most people think that the greatest archaeological discoveries take place in far-away deserts or rainforests. But even in the biggest, most populous cities on earth, there are still hidden treasures waiting to be found. Case in point: Weeksville, Brooklyn.

In 1838, a free African-American named James Weeks started a small but thriving community in the part of Brooklyn that is now known as Bedford-Stuyvesant. Over the following decades, Weeksville served as a refuge for African-Americans fleeing persecution in other parts of the country. But as time passed, Weeksville’s residents died or moved away. Though it was located in the heart of Brooklyn, by the middle of the twentieth century, the little town had been swallowed by overgrown weeds and was utterly forgotten.

Then, in 1968, a pilot flying over Brooklyn noticed several tiny wooden houses in the middle of a large vacant lot surrounded by housing projects. An entire town had been discovered in New York City. Since then, the four farmhouses that were spotted from the air have been renovated and are now open to the public. Not only are they an important part of American history--they should serve as a reminder to never take the familiar for granted. Who knows what might be found in the vacant lots near your house?

The Future is Here!

A couple of items for your birthday list. The first is a Levitating Hover Scooter, which glides inches above the ground on a cushion of air and can reach a top speed of fifteen miles per hour. The second (and far more affordable option) is Gelli Baff, a fascinating chemical mixture that turns bath water into a foul, jewel-colored slime. (From what I can tell, it's only available in the UK at the moment. This time, the Brits are one step ahead.)

Bizarre and Inexplicable

Three hundred and fifty years ago, a three-foot tall, flightless bird lived on the islands of Mauritius off the eastern coast of Africa. Then it vanished. The last reported sighting of the infamous dodo took place in 1662. The famished sailor who saw the last known dodo . . . ate it. In the previous century, the creature had been hunted to the brink of extinction (despite the fact that most agreed that its meat tasted terrible), and animals introduced by European colonists had destroy its nests. Yet the bizarre bird was never forgotten, although until the 19th century, most believed it had been little more than a myth.

Now for the bizarre part. Artist Harri Kallio has created a series of photographs that are meant to show the dodo in its native habitat. To do so, he built life-size models of the bird and recreated its natural surroundings. The results are interesting--and extremely strange. When I first saw the photos, which were published in The New Yorker magazine, I wasn't sure what to make of them. Rather than offer my opinion, I'll let you be the judge. Enjoy. (When you link to the New Yorker website, follow the instructions for starting the slide show.)

A Cabinet of Curiosities

I honestly believe that there’s no excuse for boredom. The world is a bizarre and wonderful place, filled with lost cities, mysterious creatures, and strangely-shaped food. However, you’re unlikely to discover any of them sitting on your couch. (Although sometimes you can find them while sitting at your computer.) But if you conjure some curiosity and take the time to investigate a few of life’s mysteries, your dull moments will begin to feel few and far between.

Which brings me to the subject of this post. I recently learned about the Athanasius Kircher Society, a group named for a 17th century German scholar, whose many areas of interest and expertise included Egyptian hieroglyphics, Chinese dragons, automatons, the plague, and volcanoes.
(Apparently, he once had himself lowered into Mount Vesuvius just as it was about to erupt.)

The Society is dedicated to exploring “the wondrous, the curious, the singular, the esoteric, and the sometimes hazy frontier between the plausible and the implausible.” Its fantastic blog features short posts (with links) devoted to a host of amazing (and often creepy) subjects. Among my favorites are . . .

The Hanging Temple of Hengshan
The Disappearing Octopus
A Field Guide to Albino Animals
The Body Baker (Warning: This looks pretty gruesome—but everything you see is made out of bread!)

I recommend taking a look through the Athanasius Kircher Society’s online archives. But as anyone who clicked on the last link knows, some subjects may require a strong stomach.

How to Be a Cryptozoologist

Cryptozoologists are scientists devoted to the discovery and study of creatures that are only rumored to exist--the Loch Ness Monster, Bigfoot, Yeti, Skunk Apes, and the Mokele Mbembe to name just a few. Personally, I can't imagine a better job.

If you think cryptozoology is a hopeless cause, think again. The list of animals that were once thought to be hoaxes is surprisingly long and includes the platypus, giant squid, and Komodo dragon. In fact, until the 19th century, Western scientists refused to believe in the existence of a man-sized ape that was said to live in the mountains of Africa. That creature is now known as a gorilla.

Most cryptozoologists don't get paid for their efforts. Their work is a labor of love. But if you're interested in this unsual science, you can learn how to get your start in thisarticle written by well-known cryptozoologist Loren Coleman.

This Week in Sea Monsters

Late last week, Japanese fishermen discovered a rare frilled shark swimming in the waters south of Tokyo. Although these creatures aren't often seen on the surface, I wouldn't be surprised if the species were responsible for a few sea monster sightings.

For more pictures and video, check out the story on CNN.

A Truly Twisted Cartoon

Making Fiends is a sinister (yet hilarious) cartoon created by Amy Winfrey. Allow me to introduce you to its two main characters . . .

Charlotte:
The new girl in school. So sweet, gentle, and kind that you don't know whether you want to hug her or punch her.

Vendetta:
The school's resident evil genius who creates hideous monsters that terrorize her classmates. Oh--and she has an evil giant hamster for a sidekick. What could be better?

Learn more about Making Fiends (and watch tons of episodes) online.

Street Art

The work of the mysterious Banksy.

For Sale: Dracula's Castle

More proof that New York is the greatest city on earth: The owner of Bran Castle, better known as Dracula's Castle is a New Yorker, and he's willing to sell the building to anyone with 78 million dollars!

Built at the beginning of the 13th century and located near Brasov, Romania, Bran Castle is rumored to have been the home of the infamous Vlad the Impaler--the evil 15th century warlord who served as a model for the world's most famous vampire, Dracula. (The castle is also said to have a secret passage or two--one of which was only recently discovered.)

The castle is now owned by Dominic von Habsburg, the son of Princess Ileana of Romania who inherited the castle from her mother, Queen Marie. Von Habsburg lived in the castle until 1948 when, at the age of ten, he was forced to flee Romania as communists seized control of the country. He has lived in exile for the last sixty years, and now works as a furniture designer in New York.

Last year, decades after it was seized by the communist government, the castle was returned to von Habsburg's family. Now the tourist attraction is for sale.

For the New York Sun article on Dominic von Habsurg, click HERE.

The Second Coolest Map of New York

As you may know, I’m a big fan of maps. Today, I came across one of the most useful I’ve ever encountered. The Gothamist, a website devoted to all things New York, has created an ever-changing, always up-to-date map that shows police activity, fires, main breaks, and more in all five boroughs.

Want to know what the police are doing in your neighbor’s apartment? Worried about the people wearing Minnie Mouse masks who just entered the bank across the street? Take a look at the map! Incidents are labeled with tiny icons that reveal information when you scroll over them with your mouse. You can even zoom in to get a closer look at the building or street corner where all the excitement is taking place. (Unfortunately, the satellite images are not up-to-date, so you’ll be able to see the scene, but not the action.)

However, anyone planning a move to the city would do well to avoid this handy site. Although New York is now one of the safest cities in America, the Gothamist map makes it perfectly clear that we still have our share of bad guys.

See the map HERE.

Rockefeller's Underground Escape Route Discovered?

740 Park Avenue has long been considered the most prestigious address on the island of Manhattan. Built 75 years ago, it has been home to Vanderbilts, Bouviers, Rockefellers, and royalty. To purchase an apartment in the building, you must be more than just wealthy—you must be among the world’s super-rich.

For decades, 740 Park Avenue has also been at the center of one of Manhattan’s most beloved “urban myths.” According to rumor, shortly after the building opened, John D. Rockefeller Jr. built an underground “escape route” beneath it. The tunnel is said to have led from the basement to nearby subterranean train tracks where the Rockefeller private train could carry John Jr. away from the city.

Most, including the Rockefeller family, claim that the story is pure fantasy. Now, however, it seems that there may be more truth to the tale than previously thought.

Last summer, members of the NYC Water Works were working 15 feet beneath the street outside 740 Park Avenue when they happened upon an old vault. Inside, the plumbers discovered a series of hidden chambers connected to the building’s basement. Each had an arched ceiling roughly 10 feet in height and walls composed of old bricks. No one seems to know what purpose the forgotten chambers may have served, but some have suggested that they are part of a lost tunnel built not by the Rockefellers, but by their neighbors, the Vanderbilts.

Of course this underground discovery is not the first for the NYC Water Works, who’ve found everything from abandoned pools to forgotten barber shops deep beneath Manhattan.

Finalist #6: Continued

"Oh, hello Mrs. Verere." Savannah turned around to see my mom peering at us.

"What's going on here?" She asked, an eyebrow raised. She was looking us over, noting our boots and goggles. "Swimming, Hiking, or a new hybrid of the two?"

"Neither Mrs. Verere." Savannah, always acting the good child, was smiling and suddenly giggled like a schoolgirl. She was good.

"Then what?" She looked suspicious. "And why did you take O.F.F?" She pointed a small finger at the can of bug spray we had brought.

I perked up. "Walking around the levy. It's for a project, we are making a movie!" I brought out a video camera. It wasn't that big of a lie. We were using the camera, just not at the levy.

"Levy huh? That'd mean you would be using the back door." Mom pointed us to the back. "Not the front."

I beamed at her and began to walk back. "Come on crew! Let's make a project!" I acted as if I were a director. I even went as far as to pretend I was snapping one of those snapping boards. I was glad to see that the twins had actually caught on that I was fooling mom. They were all in it, but subtly. We were all excited, and honestly excited. We were about to have an adventure, one without any adults. One inspired by a random idea that popped into Dylan's head: "Why don't we find out what's there?" Savannah and I had just gone with it, and Sam was just along for the ride.

We hurried out the door, anxious to start our adventures. I led the little 'Film Crew' taping minor things that each of us saw. Like how the ever-approaching trees looked, how one branch was bent to accommodate a person, how there was an unusual species of ants crawling around. But I never filmed the 'crew' or myself. Incriminating Evidence may come, but I was sure that it wouldn't come by my own hands.

We were almost there, nearly all of us smiling, and all of us silent. "Sly up folks." I reminded them that we were nearly there. Not that they needed to be told. The place was obvious, it was a huge area. Probably a mile long. We each had a small map of the place made by one of my Hippie friends who came up every year. It was a huge forest of sorts, with plenty of trees and most probably safe. We were here to help the Hippies by checking up the map and making sure nothing 'else' was there. Rumors of a haunting had been a possible cause for the cancellation of the yearly Earth Day Fest in my suburb. When my Hippie friend, Ella, asked if I could try to solve the haunting, I could only accept. Not only was she one of my best friends, but she was also offering something girls in suburbs can't get- Real Life Adventure. So I began to recruit my best friends, Dylan and Savannah. Dylan wasn't that good at spy work, but he had a decent nose and loved the paranormal. Savannah was our cargo carrier and camera toter. And I was the expert who knew the place, having gone to the Earth Day Festivities since I was Six years old, I was now fourteen. I was also our main weaponieer, the person who had the pepper spray and the five-inch heel boots. Sam was, obviously, our logical expert. I realized that now. He was our Brains. I was our Leader. Dylan was our Nose and Savannah was our Toter.

Now all we needed was to find the Ghost. The Ghost, according to those who had seen her, was a young woman. Probably around twenty to twenty-five. She was pretty, rumor said, with a nice face. She was supposedly wearing a long white nightgown. I had called her 'Sophie' because it seemed proper, she was a woman and she was probably from when German settlers were, well, settling. And I also liked the name 'Sophie' and Sophie she became.

Apparently Sophie wasn't shy, she had shown herself to over ten people at once, and again to a group of twelve. We figured it would be easy for her to show herself, we were just hoping she'd smile for the Camera.

"Dyla-" Savannah began, the rest of us quickly shushed her. The huge trees were spectacular and amazing. Not the sort of thing you'd see in a H.O.A Run Suburb like mine. Unique, that was the word. Or was it Basic? I swallowed the thought as I signaled for Sav to start the camera again, with my other hand I snapped and signaled to go forward.

I turned, looking at the other three. Savannah, Dylan, Sam. We were set. We went through the huge trees and into the main clearing. "Savannah, set up the Camera for Night Vision mode." I instructed, having taught her how to use the special camera I expected her to remember. I heard a familiar swoosh of the lens and I knew she was successful without even having to look.
"Dylan, the kit?" I asked, Dylan spoke "Yes." He pointed to Sav's back.

"Hey! What am I supposed to do?" My brother, Sam was looking annoyed. "I'm not going to stand out here and just stand! I want to do something too." He pulled something from his bag and said "I could sn-"

I cut him off. "Stay here." I tossed him the pepper spray and a flashlight. The sun was going down now, even more so. It was Twilight already and the moon was already rising up. So we left Sam and began filming the Hippie's Forest, staying clear of nasty looking leaves and thorns. We could all hear Sam behind us, but we didn't mind much.

"Savannah, are you getting this?" I said as we rounded a corner to where the Sophie Sightings had taken place. The air was chilly, even though it was April and we were in Texas.

"K." Dylan's voice was wary and had his 'I'm about to say something informational about this' tone.

"I know, Dyl. " My voice did not waver, and I was proud of myself for that fact alone.

"But K." Dylan was beginning to say something about thermal temperatures and ghosts, I just knew it.

"I don't want to hear it, Dylan. Are you getting the area Savannah?" I asked again, just to shut Dylan up.

"Yeah, but K. you've gotta see this." I looked into the Camera and out into the area to see a dull white light showing. A girl, looking around seventeen instead of twenty, was twirling in a nightgown. Lights got brighter and brighter.

"What's going on?" Savannah asked, not able to look away from the camera.

"I don't know." I turned to find out. Seven lights were in the distance, getting brighter every second.

"Come on!" I grabbed Dylan and tried to grab Savannah. "Come on!" I pushed her a bit more. I turned again and hit my head on a lowered tree branch. I pushed it up and continued to help Savannah, or try to.

"No. I've got to get this, Kaitlyn. I've got to." She sounded vicious for a moment.

"To #$@# if you will." I grabbed her and knocked down the camera. I quickly pushed Savannah next to her brother behind a bush and found myself in the clearing with nowhere to hide, nothing to hide behind.

That's when I looked up to see a tree branch hanging low, the same one that had hit me. I had to jump to grab it, but I did. I pulled myself up until I reached the bigger branches. I had to hang on for my life. The lights got brighter and brighter . . .
I saw Sophie better from this height. She was still playing and twirling, but she soon stopped as the lights got too close for comfort. The teenage girl disappeared as the seven lights finally revealed themselves. It was a group of dirt bikers. They swerved to avoid my tree and almost ran over my fallen camera. I nearly sighed when they didn't.

I could hear Savannah swearing not-so-nice words at the men for interrupting her first ever ghost sighting. I had to gasp as one of the back passengers took off his helmet. It was my younger brother, Sam, holding a camera. He held it up to Dylan and Savannah's tree and snapped a few photos and said "Come out, Twits."

He began snapping more photos as they stepped out. "Leaving me alone, what were you thinking? Kaitlyn?" My brother was calling me, he began to shine his flashlight over the trees and I shrunk back, avoiding the beam by a millimeter. After about five minutes of searching, he stepped off the dirt bike and told his friends to go on ahead and go without him. Dylan and Savannah were about three yards away from Sam and he looked sort of menacing in the moonlight. "Did you find your ghost, Kaitlyn?" He asked, rolling his eyes. He looked up, right at me and I gulped.

He looked away. He couldn't see me.

I suddenly heard the wind rushing and it got colder in the night. I looked down and saw my Sophie, twirling right in front of Sam. He widened his eyes and began to stutter. I jumped down right on top of her and she disappeared.

"Got my Ghost, thanks for asking." I said, smiling slyly as I saw that the camera had been facing Sophie and the rest of us. I whomped my brother on the head with a stick and began to drag him home.
I stopped. "Dylan, you take him home. I'll stay with Savannah and the Camera." Dylan opened his mouth to protest, but his sister peeped up

"Yeah Dyl. Go on and have a manly chat with him." I loved Sav sometimes. So we stayed with the camera as my best guy friend dragged away my best kid brother.

"What will we do about her?" Sav finally said.

"About who?"

"The ghost." She said, pointed at the camera.

"You mean Sophie?"

"You named her?" She looked astonished.

"Of course."

"Well, what will we do now? We have proof she's there. But not proof that she won't harm anyone during the Fest." She had a point.

"I have no idea." I shrugged and waited for another glimpse of Sophie.

"Well, we could sell the video? You know, at the festival. She'd like that, Sophia." Savannah said, her voice light and in anticipation. As if she too was watching for another glimpse of the ghoul.

"She'd love being seen. And it's Sophie. Not Sophia."

"That's her name though, she's just not serious enough for Sophia." Savannah seemed to know the girl.

"How the Heck do you know?" I was angry that anyone could know Sophie more than me. She was my ghost after all.

"Because, she twirls. She loves attention. We should sell tapes. I'm sure she'd leave, K."

I wanted to argue more, but she sounded so secure in her decision. "Fine. But she better not show up during the festival." I finally grabbed the camera stand from the ground and began to put everything else. "Come on." I told Savannah. But she didn't seem to be watching me. She was watching the nothingness in Sophie's place. Sophia's place.

Two days later, we mysteriously shipped a box full of DVD disks to my Hippie Friend Ella. She sold them at her booth and it seemed to please Sophie (Sophia?) enough to only come back when no one else was around. We didn't have that many more adventures, sorry to disappoint you. But hey, two girls and their brothers living in the suburbs can't have that many in one year.

Can they?

Kidnapped!

Just joking. I really enjoyed all the comments, but I figured I better set a few things straight . . .

1. Though I wasn't kidnapped, I was detained by customs officials on my way back from France. Seems they frown on people carrying bones back in their luggage. Who knew? (More on that later.)

2. I humbly beg your forgiveness for not posting. I've been itching to tell you about my misadventures in the catacombs, but I was warned not to say anything more until I was safely out of Paris. One thing I've learned in the past few months--don't screw around with les gendarmes. (OK, more on that later, too.)

3. I'll catch everyone up on the French adventure as soon as possible. C'est tres bon! But for those who've speculated there's another book in the works, you're right. Fortunately, I had a lot of time to work on it while I was stuck in a small, windowless room, questioning the wisdom of smuggling human bones back from France.

4. Kiki and I encourage any efforts to start new organizations around the country. Last I checked, the other 49 states weren't short on people in need of a good butt-kicking. But it's NEVER a good idea to give out your name, email address, or any other information to people you meet online. If you want to start a new group through this site, please comment here, and I will find a way to be in touch.

5. If you start a new blog or website, please make sure to let me know. (I'm trying to visit the ones that have already been mentioned.) I'll try to post a link from my site. (By the way, I love the new look, too! And there's much more to come.)

6. My not-so-ghostwriter, Kirsten Miller, has rarely been photographed in public. (Good try, though.) However, numerous poems have been written extolling her unusual beauty and uncanny charm.

7. Kirsten Miller said she's married? Perhaps she was attempting to throw people off her trail—and I’ll state for the record that I’ve never known her to make a clichéd statement of any kind.

8. A giant squid was recently filmed by Japanese researchers. This photo is definitely the best I’ve ever seen!

9. Alexxis and cosimacat (thanks theatre), if you live in New York, you’re officially invited to join the Irregulars.

I Meet My Guide

My first meeting with the girl who was to guide me through the catacombs took place on the morning of July 15th. I met her at a café in the Latin Quarter, one of the oldest and bloodiest parts of the city. For hundreds of years, foreign students from the nearby universities and the native people of Paris staged gruesome and deadly battles in the warren of little streets just off the river. (Many over nothing more than the cost of wine.)

It was ten o’clock on a Saturday, and other than our waiter, it seemed as if we were the only people awake in town. Bastille Day celebrations had ended just hours earlier, and most Parisians were still sleeping off the effects. It was the perfect time to plan our expedition.

Though she’s only a year or two older than I am, Claire has been visiting the catacombs for more than a decade. But she only gives tours to those who come with a personal recommendation. Kiki Strike has seen the tunnels with Claire. So have several macho movie stars, one of whom didn’t like the idea of being guided by a girl. He took off on his own and was discovered twelve hours later, huddled in a corner crying softly to himself.

Claire said she had met members of the Perforating Mexicans while exploring the catacombs. She’d considered joining the club herself, until she found that their taste in movies didn’t suit her. She agreed to take me to see their underground cinema. (The one the police have yet to discover.) But there are far more interesting things in the catacombs, she assured me, than film clubs. Not only are there bunkers and crypts and rooms made entirely of chalk, but her grandfather had always sworn that there were passages under Paris that not even the most intrepid explorers had discovered—tunnels dug by the Nazis during the war. He had spent his entire life searching, and died before he could find them.

Kiki Strike at the Brooklyn Book Festival

Kiki Strike will be one of the featured readings at the Brooklyn Book Festival! If you're in New York, please stop by!

Saturday, September 16, 2006
Brooklyn Borough Hall
10am - 6pm

The Ossuary

In preparation for my journey into the forbidden passages of the Parisian catacombs, I also visited the tunnels that have been opened to the public. I expected a well-lit, heavily-guarded, tourist-filled environment—an underground Disney Land. I was wrong.



Two tips for visiting the catacombs. First, don’t go alone. (I did.) It’s dark. It’s quiet. And you don’t know who’s down there. Second, wear boots or sneakers. (I didn’t.) There’s water dripping (sometimes pouring) from the ceiling in most of the tunnels. The floor in many sections is one large puddle. But despite all this, if you follow my advice, you should have a fabulous time.

The highlight of the catacombs is, of course, the ossuary where human bones line the tunnels. But in order to see it, you must be prepared to walk quite a distance through dimly lit, stone-lined passages with ceilings that hover only a few inches above the top of your head. In many respects, this is the creepiest part of the journey. As the tunnels twist and turn, you can only imagine what might lie in front of you.



When at last you reach the entrance to the ossuary, and read the warning above the door (“Stop, this is the empire of death”), you may feel as if you’re ready for anything. You aren’t. There’s nothing that will prepare you for the sight of human bones stacked in neat piles that can reach more than six feet in height. These are the remains six million Parisians who were buried in the city’s cemeteries before the 19th century.



In the late 1700s, when Paris’s cemeteries had been crammed (literally) beyond capacity, the dead developed a nasty habit of tumbling into the cellars of nearby buildings. The stench from the graveyards was reported to be overpowering, and those who lived in the surrounding areas often fell prey to the “bad air.” That’s when the authorities decided to empty the cemeteries and deliver the remains to the ancient Roman quarry that stretched beneath the city. The men who carted the bones were only allowed to work at night, and it was years before the last of the dead made the trip.



In the passages that are marked for sightseers, the bones of the dead are still artistically arranged, with skulls and femurs forming bizarre (often surprising) patterns. But if you pause to peer though the gates that block less traveled routes, you’ll see that many parts of the catacombs have not fared so well. Walls have crumbled, and the dead lay in chaotic heaps. A sharp eye will also find proof of the catacombs’ multiple layers. Look beyond the barriers, and you might find yourself staring down at a tunnel that weaves beneath your feet.

This was the first glimmer of what I might find in forbidden passages. But as fascinating as the ossuary was, I had no idea how little I’d seen.

The Intestine of the Leviathan

As I mentioned earlier, I first arrived in Paris in July. Verushka Kozolva had provided me with the telephone number of a young woman named Claire (for legal reasons, I can’t give her last name) who could serve as my guide to the catacombs. Her grandfather had been a member of the French Resistance during World War II, when both the Nazis and the Allies had used parts the underground tunnels to their advantage. In time, he had passed his knowledge of the catacombs along to his son (whom Verushka had befriended during year she and Kiki Strike lived in Paris) and his granddaughter.

Claire was vacationing in Romania during my first week in France. While I waited, I downloaded maps of the catacombs from some very impressive websites, but I didn’t trust them (or myself) enough to begin my explorations without an experienced guide. Instead, I tried to get in the mood by visiting other underground attractions around Paris. My first stop, of course, was the sewers.



Anyone with a particularly sensitive nose should steer clear of the sewers. It’s not that they smell the way you’d expect them to smell. If I had to describe their unique bouquet, I’d say it was a mixture of pond water, mold, kitty litter, and garbage can on a hot summer day. But if you’re able to breath through your mouth, the sewers are well worth the trip.

Dig deep beneath any street in Paris and you’ll find an arched tunnel made of brick or stone. In fact, the sewers follow course of the streets so precisely that they form a mirror image of the city above. (You’ll even find street signs to guide your way.) There are more than 1,300 miles of tunnels—some are enormous, more than 12 feet across, and others too narrow to enter. All are gloomy, dark, and dangerous. With a little rain, they become roaring rivers of filth, and toxic gasses are known to accumulate, killing the unprepared in seconds.

Despite the peril, there are many tales of those whose desperation or dimwittedness has led them to pry open one of the manholes that line the streets of Paris and drop into the darkness. Perhaps the most best know is that of Jean Valjean, hero of Victor Hugo’s novel, Les Miserables. (It was Hugo who famously referred to the sewers as “the intestine of the leviathan.")



I, of course, chose to visit Le Musée des Égouts de Paris. It’s a strange museum built around a working part of the sewer system not far from the Eiffel Tower. You’ll see and smell everything you need to make the experience worthwhile, and you’ll learn to pity the people who lived in the days before the sewers were built. But perhaps the most interesting thing about the museum is that you're often on your own, away from guards and tourists. It would be easy to slip into the tunnels and make your way through underground Paris.