Let me preface this post by saying that I always knew what a ghost town was.
We all did. But when the five of us started talking about visiting Ashcroft, drunk on the simple fact that we were together (and maybe a few mugs of apple cider + salted caramel vodka), somehow the concept lost all meaning and then someone suggested we wear white sheets and walk around going OOOooooOOOOoooo and that was it: We had somehow convinced ourselves we were going to visit Casper. (In the back of my mind I might even have pictured Devon Sawa whispering Can I keep you?).
And then I got out of the car and all hopes of Devon Sawa vanished from my brain. “Oh,” I said, rather disappointedly, trying to hide the confusion from my face. “This is… I mean, I knew..”
I looked around at my friends, who also looked like they wanted to slap their foreheads and yell DUH. (90s habits die hard)
“Good thing we didn’t wear our sheets,” said one.