Free I am Haunted: Living Life Through the Dead by Zak Bagans, Kelly Crigger Page B

drive to the location is hectic in my mind as I go through all the things that need to happen. Nothing is going to fall apart on my watch.
    If someone is having a bad day, it sometimes comes out on the way to the site. Just before the Houghton Mansion lockdown, Nick and I nearly got into a fistfight over something so insignificant I can’t even remember what it was now. When you’re around the same people for so long, these things happen, but like any group of people who are tested and come out on top, we’ve evolved into a brotherhood. In the end, I have their backs and they have mine, even if we have a few dust-ups from time to time.
    When we get to the location, I usually make sure that the production staff has blacked out all the windows, shut off all the lights, and cleared the area. Then I check with security to make sure that there haven’t been any violations of the property. Some locations are still open to the public before we begin the lockdown, like the restaurant in the Lemp Mansion or the
Queen Mary,
so we have to take measures to make sure that people don’t taint our evidence. At Union Station in Kansas City, the crew was supposed to get everyone out before we started, but for some reason that didn’t happen, and our investigation of the main level was contaminated. We thought we had captured an apparition, but it turned out to be a real person who hadn’t left the building yet. I was pissed, but it happens, and there’s nothing you can do but move on…after uttering a few four-letter words.
    Once in a while it all goes completely wrong, and we have to place the blame where it belongs: on the shoulders of the location managers. If they don’t clear the place out, then we have to come right out and say that a piece of evidence isn’t paranormal and the location isn’t haunted after all. A successful production almost always starts with a good contact person who’s willing to help. I love it when we have location managers who are grateful for us to be there; they always make the experience so much better. When they don’t give a damn, everything turns out bad. We try not to make it known on camera, but it’s not always Disneyland.
    My last stop before a lockdown is usually the nerve center, where I make sure that the equipment checks have been done so that no technical problems arise. I hate to say it, but friendships get put aside at this point. It’s all business from here on out. When the investigation starts, I’ll be demanding and controlling, and the guys know it. Being responsible for the show means that sometimes I have to be an asshole. This operation ultimately falls on my shoulders and no one else’s, so I can’t be weak or have low standards.
    In the end, lockdown day is like a perfectly choreographed circus of logistics, technology, and people. The smallest mouse being out of sync will cause a chain reaction until the elephants bring down the big top. The credibility of the Travel Channel and the reputation of
Ghost Adventures,
which we take very seriously, are constantly at stake, so it takes a lot more work than you might think to bring you an entertaining episode and a meaningful investigation.
    I SINCERELY HOPE WE HAVE DONE THAT
AND WILL CONTINUE TO DO SO
EACH AND EVERY TIME.

9
R ENO C RACKHEADS
    A walk in the park goes bad.
    Lockdown day is supposed to be my day to get right with the world, but the world has no obligation to cooperate, and sometimes things go very wrong. Now that you know what we do on lockdown day, let me tell you a story of one that got a little out of control.
    We were filming at the Mustang Ranch outside of Reno, Nevada. I had a few hours to kill before heading over to the site, so I took some time to get away from everyone and relax. We were staying at a hotel in downtown Reno—a casino, I think. I didn’t venture out much because I’m honestly not a big fan of Reno. I love Lake Tahoe and Virginia City, but Reno has really gone downhill. My