The Beckley Beast
I'm going to make the "conversation" part in dialogue format, and for the record, Weird Creepy Guy will eventually just be shortened to WCG. And "me", is, ehm, me.
So here we go.
This incident took place approximately an hour and a half after crossing the West Virginia border from Virginia. We had made a stop for dinner and for petrol, and then I decided we had better find a phone to give my mother a ring so she wouldn't be too worried. We had, at that point, left her house about six hours prior and I promised to keep her updated from time to time of our whereabouts.
So the lucky stop was a rest area on interstate 64 near a town called Beckley. It was a really nice rest stop, on the side of a mountain, and it not only had phones inside but a few gift shops, a Starbuck's, TCBY yogurt and a Burger King. We had actually stopped at this very same place a year and a half ago when initially moving out to the wilds of Colorado.
Anyhow, point being, we had been there once before and knew it was clean and safe. Greg, Clare and the doggies stayed in the Jeep as I just wanted to run in and quickly make my call so we could continue our 29 hour drive. On my way to the entrance I pass this guy- I wasn't even looking at him- my focus was getting inside to make my phone call. But after passing him I hear him say loudly:
"Is that a dead deer on your Jeep?"
I assumed he couldn't possibly be talking to me and so I ignored him, at which point he said "Hey! Hey! Is that a dead deer on your Jeep?"
I had to think about this one, as obviously I was the only one out there but why would he think there was an animal carcass on top of our vehicle? I turned around and said, "Ehm, NO! Our luggage is on top of our Jeep." (we had suitcases and Clare's bicycle tied down under a tarp, and no, it did NOT look like a deer!).
My next sentence was something along the lines of "we don't kill animals." Now I got a really good look at Weird Creepy Guy. He was looking quite suspicious and antsy, was about late 40-ish, had severely messy hair, was holding a key and a newspaper, had what appeared to be a fake looking cast on his left arm, and the worst bit of it (besides looking generally disheveled) was the fact this guy had the worst case of dry skin/eczema imaginable. Now I sympathise with skin problems and whatnot, and do not judge people by their exterior, but it seemed this was caused by the mere fact of neglecting to wash. There were about 40,000 layers of dead skin piled up all around the edges of his face. This is no exaggeration. (exfolliate mister, just exfolliate!) The dry skin hung in clumps all over his clothing.
Ok, now I will turn this into dialogue form for your reading pleasure.
WCG: Well it looks like a dead deer up there. I see you are from Colorado.
(I am just blankly staring at him thinking, ok this guy is sort of odd. I start to walk a few steps and he closely follows)
WCG: Well I am not from West Virginia either. I am actually from Austin Texas. (Odd, you have a very Northern accent, mister) You know why I am here? I'll tell you. I have been here for a few weeks because I am a film maker. That's right. I make films. And I am making a film called "the Beckley Beast", all about the town here of Beckley. Some creature, not sure what it is really, is killing all the townspeople and the only thing that can save them are these aliens, except I don't call them aliens. I call them alien-ites, and they come down from outer space and save the townspeople by playing rap music. It's great. The whole town is involved in this project. Everyone knows about it.
(at this point I am just staring over his shoulder at the Jeep, trying to make eye contact with Greg in case I need to use some self defence and run away)
WCG: So yeah, Colorado. Great. You know what's ironic? You're from Colorado (ehm, no I am not mister), John Denver was from Colorado, and here we are in West Virginia and he wrote a song about West Virginia! That's great!
(I am still saying nothing)
WCG: Yeah, ultralight planes. You know that's how John Denver died right? (I was not clear on ALL the details as we were living in Ireland at the time of Mr. Denver's death and it wasn't exactly flashed all over the RTE news there or anything)
[So WCG proceeds to give a step by step interpretation of the actual flight and the demise of the plane and Mr. Denver. As though he were actually in the plane himself. At this point I am really creeped out and am trying to execute my escape which just simply is not working.]
WCG: So you know, ultralight planes are bad news, BAD NEWS! You know who almost died in an ultralight plane? (I don't know Weird Creepy Guy, but I'm sure you'll be more than happy to tell me)
WCG: Burke Breathed. You know who he is?
Me: (I actually spoke this time, in hopes it would shut him up and make him go away....wrong) Yes I am aware who he is, he is the guy who wrote the comic strip Bloom County.
WCG: Yes yes! You are correct! (saying this whilst clapping his hands in glee) Wow you must be a lot older than you look. Very good! (yeah I am 30 and look 19, so what, leave me alone!)
WCG: Yeah Burke Breathed, you know we went to college together. (and he rattles off a college name which escapes me at the moment) We were such great buddies. You know if it weren't for me he would never be famous now. (he drones on about how they were in the same fraternity and designed special Izod shirts [you know, the polo shirts with the alligator on them], except they designed ones that had an Izod alligator wearing an Izod alligator shirt...ok, whatever Weird Creepy Guy) So anyhow, one day I was sitting there and I had Burke lay out all his work, this was before he had come up with the Opus character, and I said "Burke, you REALLY ought to get syndicated, this stuff is brilliant, take my word for it." And he looked into it and I could have been his agent but I was pretty busy so now he is famous thanks to me.
(at this point I am thinking to myself, Ande, why do you always attract the really, really freaky people??)
WCG: So, yeah, Colorado. I guess the mountains here in West Virginia are identical to the ones out here.
Me: Ehm, no actually the Rockies are MUCH bigger. (most people know that, right?)
WCG: Yeah I am a photographer too. I would love to go to Colorado and take pictures. You sure the mountains there aren't like this?
Me: I am positive. (gee, aren't I lucky, to meet a film maker, photographer AND the guy who made Burke Breathed famous, all in one encounter!)
WCG: I have never been to Colorado. Is it pretty?
Me: It's ok. We prefer the East Coast better.
WCG: Yeah, I gotta take some pictures out there. So where do you live in Colorado? Where are you coming from? Are you on vacation? (come on people, you didn't think I was actually going to answer those questions now did you?)
WCG: Yeah just got here about three weeks ago. That's my Mercedes over there. Hey don't you have to go through Kansas? My nephew goes to Kansas State, you know that's where all the rich Jewish kids that can't get into an Ivy League school go to.
Me: That's nice.
WCG: Yeah (holding out the arm covered in the "fake cast" and holding up his right leg) too much dancing, too much basketball.
Me: mmhmm.
At this point I had been taking steps to get closer to the parking area and I saw Greg had pulled the Jeep up to the curb and was at this point stepping out and approaching us. Thank God!
WCG: So if the mountains are big in Colorado, are there a lot of wildlife? Maybe I'd like to take pictures of wildlife. Maybe I should come out there. Where did you say you lived again? (Ehm, I never said Weird Creepy Guy. And sure, come out to Colorado, maybe a mountain lion or huge bear awaking from hibernation might be hungry enough to eat you!)
Enter Greg...
Greg: So what's going on?
Me: (In a huge rush of words) I am going in right now to call Mum.
(I run inside. Leaving Greg with WCG, but hey, Greg could have taken him on if need be. At least I could phone the police from inside.)
I get inside and head straight away to the phones. One of the girls from the Starbuck's counter approaches and asks, "Hey is that weird guy bothering you?" I replied with "Well yes he was, but I got away. I think my husband is stuck out there with him now though." At which she says, "We are definitely calling the State Troopers on him."
I got through to my mother, informed her some weird guy was outside and we had to go but I would give another ring in awhile. The Starbuck's girl told me then about how WCG had been hanging around the rest stop for about four hours, mostly talking to himself, harassing a few tourists, and really bothering the Starbuck's girls, but they ignored him. (well at least they could have thrown a piping hot cup of Expresso on him if need be) She also told me about how he first complained about his Mercedes key being broken in half and he needed one of them to go out to the car with him, but of course they didn't. Now that had to have been a scam, as wouldn't you phone the police or locksmith if this happened to you? Rather than asking a young girl to come to your car. Like she would be much help...sounds rather suspicious to me.
She then said, "it looks like your husband is trapped out there with him." I said, "Yes, I better get out there, you guys should definitely get the State Troopers out here though."
So out I venture, and by this time WCG is sitting in his Mercedes and I jump in the Jeep and lock the door. Greg tells me, "That guy is psycho!". Ehm, yeah, no kidding. We figure we better take down his license plate number just in case, and then I ran back in and gave the paper to the Starbuck's girl. Race back out to the Jeep and we notice maybe WCG got suspicious of us and had then driven to the Exxon petrol station next to the rest stop and was sticking his head out the window yelling at an attendant there.
We drive back onto 64 and try to analyse what had just occurred. Now come on, I can't go and not analyse a situation! I am Miss-Analyse-Everything-To-Bits! Anyhow you must admit, the incident and WCG was just not your average conversation with a stranger. AND to top it off, we noticed his Mercedes had West Virginia tags, AND they were worn looking. If he had just come into town three weeks prior, just to "shoot a movie" as he claimed, why would he get WV tags in the first place? Especially when he'd be heading home shortly. IF HE DID get them, they sure wouldn't be worn like that. At this point in time, I was convinced the actual owner of the Mercedes was dead and stored in the boot of the car. I don't think it was THAT far fetched to believe.
Before I continue with our after-thoughts on the whole bit and what the guy had said to Greg while I was inside using the phones, I just want to point out that, as stated many times before, I AM A FREAK MAGNET. I always have been. ALWAYS. And that's fine, I can live with this. Especially working in the museum world, I have certainly encountered some odd individuals, so many in fact, I could probably fill numerous novels with the everyday freakiness I dealt with for years and years in my work at various museums. Face it, most tourists are out there and love to tell the people dressed in "weird" clothing all about their life and so on. And of course, most people who work in the museums themselves are kind of strange, which is fine. They were all, tourists and employees alike, harmless. But Weird Creepy Guy was not your average freak. He was like weirdo-stalker-murderer combined. All in one. And what's worse, he did creep me out. Most freaks do not. But I had a horrible feeling about this one.
As we are travelling down 64, Greg is telling me all about what WCG said to him. It was essentially the same conversation (as though it were memorised), minus the John Denver and Burke Breathed bits. Greg said nothing to the guy and walked back to the Jeep once he saw I was safely inside the building. And he said WCG followed him to our Jeep, then walked around the back. Staring at our Colorado plates and making various comments about them. Then he saw the College of William and Mary sticker on the back, and wanted to know who had gone there. Greg did not answer. Then WCG saw the Jack Russell racing sticker and made some comment, then proceeded to look in the back window (the glass is tinted so it is hard to see inside) and said, "oh you've got dogs in there." Greg said Aoife, the female, was barking and growling hysterically, she only does this when she gets an uneasy feeling about someone. Even Reilly, who is pretty laid back, was causing a big fuss. So WCG walks slowly around the Jeep and makes another comment, "oh you have a child too. You've got your hands full then." Then he comes to the front of the Jeep and spies the military sticker on the glass. (the one to get you in and out of the gate of the bases) He says "oh you're military? My dad was in the Navy. He flew planes. What branch are you in? Where are you stationed? What job do you do?" Greg refused to answer him, for apparent reasons. That's not just information you give to total strangers. WCG finally gave up and went to his vehicle, walked BACK and said to Greg, "I know what you do. You fly planes with Nukes. Well I say go over there and nuke them all!" It was then I had walked back out and he was already in his Mercedes. It was one of the older models, a diesel, and a yellow colour.
Another weird thing was this: Beckley is a SMALL town. Very small. IF there were any type of filming going on, everyone would know about it. The girls at Starbuck's mentioned how he was chattering on about this film to them and everyone else who would listen. They said none of them had heard about this at all. So that was another clue showing us the whole situation was just plain odd.
The incident plagued me for a few days, I had a very uneasy feeling. I tried not to think about it as I was busy once we got back...unpacking, doing heaps of laundry and putting up all the things we had bought during our visit. So a few days later I finally got a chance to go online and look up Beckley, West Virginia. I scanned their town hall site, and the latest events in Beckley. No, no filming going on. I looked up the "Beckley Beast" and found it is actually the nickname of the 18th hole at the country club golf course in Beckley. Ok, odd. Finally I emailed a brief account to the town hall, the police department, and a local radio station. All replied and none had heard of any film being made there, all found it very suspicious and the Mayor of Beckley (who emailed me personally!) and the Police Department were looking into the matter.
So if any of us hear of any murders occurring in Beckley, West Virginia, I think it's safe to say we probably know now who committed them!
My fingers are tired from typing now. Sorry to say I didn't take any pictures of the rest area (or Weird Creepy Guy) so no attached photo today. I don't think a random picture of us having a happy time in Virginia should be attached to such an entry! You'll have to wait some other time to hear about odd, bizarre Incident Number 2, that we witnessed at yet another rest area in Illinois.
