Are you scared of sleeping in a hotel room alone? Do you need to keep the light on overnight for peace of mind? As a flight attendant, hotels were like my second home (before Covid), from a luxurious JW Marriott and an elegant Sofitel to a budget Holiday Inn. And of course, some of them are famous among the crew as a haunted house of slumber. Rumors and stories pass around as quick as a flash but very few of them are of first-person recounts. As we’re in the month of Halloween, I’d like to share a personal experience in a Japanese hotel that kept me up for the whole night.

It’s my first time arriving at the Chubu Centrair International Airport in Nagoya, the capital of Japan’s Aichi Prefecture. I was on duty on an overnight-stay pattern, which means we were going to spend the night at an airport hotel before flying back to Hong Kong early in the morning. Even though our arrival time was a bit late for supper, I was still happy to grab a few nibbles, such as onigiri (Japanese rice ball), crispy, succulent fried chicken filet, and spongy, creamy cake rolls, in Lawson or FamilyMart, which in my opinion are the best convenience stores in the world. Also, I was looking forward to bringing home a few packs of signature shrimp crackers when the airport souvenir store opened the next morning.

Our accommodation was a stone’s throw away from the airport. Dragging our luggage and worn-out body on a short walk, we arrived at the hotel lobby where we collected our key card and allowance. For those who wonder if we have to share a room with colleagues, the answer is no. Though some of us are also perturbed by the idea of being alone in a hotel room, privacy still comes first as nobody wants to have more human interaction after serving a 200-passenger flight.

It’s a custom that we would knock on the door before entering the room, which is a superstitious gesture that most Asians would do to kindly notify “them” we are staying for the night. Of course, we don’t await or want any kind of reply (we’re not crazy). As expected, my standard room was neat and tiny, with a queen-sized bed occupying the majority of the space and a big mirror facing the bed (this is a thing I don’t like about Japanese hotels). The air in the room was so stuffy as if it had been vacant for a long time, and turning up the air-con didn’t improve the ventilation. I didn’t want to make a fuss as it’s just one night, and probably all of the rooms had the same problems. However, some people say that if you feel uncomfortable when you step into a room, it’s not a good sign.

Intending to maximize my rest period, I checked the bed roughly (to see if there’s blood or yellow stains), chowed down the bento from the hotel restaurant downstairs, and took a quick shower. When I finally slipped under the blanket, it’s already after midnight. I then turned off all the lights except the one in the toilet as total darkness in an unfamiliar environment made me anxious. When everything was settled, it’s usually the time for my imagination to run wild. These few years, yoga breathing techniques do help calm my mind and relax my body, and I’ve been practicing it before sleep. A deep inhale and a slow exhale and repeat until I’m drifted away to some outrageous dreams.

After uncountable rounds of inhaling and exhaling, I was aware that something had changed in the surroundings and the vibe of the room had twisted as if I’d been drawn to a sub-space – a separated zone that inherits all characteristics of the parent space. Soon, it came that familiar whisper in a language that I couldn’t comprehend or recognize. It sounded like somebody was talking far away yet every syllable echoed in my ears. This wasn’t the first time I had heard this alien murmur, and the last time I did, it was horrifying.

It’s clear that I had to get out of this illusion or nightmare as soon as possible. “Wake up! It’s a dream! Wake up!” I kept telling myself. The whisper started fading away but it’s not gone for good. What replacing it was the sound of running water in the toilet, which was likened to urination (there was a moment it hit me that a thief, a drunk, or a serial killer might have broken into my room and found himself having the urgent need to pee). When the water sound stopped, I opened my eyes a slit and vaguely saw a shadowy figure standing outside the toilet. Before I could confirm if it’s a person, I got terrified and quickly shut my eyes. The next moment, the shadow was looming over and climbing onto my bed. My instinct was to move and scream my head off. But I couldn’t. My whole body was paralyzed and I was muted as if my vocal cords had been cut. Being desperate, I struggled, again and again, exerting all my strength and will. And finally, I could hear myself shout out loud.

Everything turned silent. My sweaty hands immediately searched for the light switches above the bedside table. The room turned fully bright and stayed exactly the same as I remembered. I knew it’s done and I was back to reality. My eyes rolled to the screen on my phone, which showed that I still had a few hours before my alarm went off. Though I was exhausted with a full flight ahead of me, I didn’t dare to go back to sleep. After binge-watching youtube for four to five hours, I freshened myself up (I really checked if there’s urine in the toilet bowl) and went down early for a cup of coffee. That was the last time I flew to Nagoya.

Science called it a nightmare or sleep paralysis, which occurs when a person passes between stages of wakefulness and sleep. And presumably, those thriller movies and horror stories had popped up in my dream when they were least wanted. Or probably I should go see a therapist or psychiatrist. No matter how you interpret this story, it’s apparently a terrifying experience. “Was it the last time it happened?” No, I can write a short series here if you want me to.

“Why are you still in this job?” is a question that I was often asked after I told the story. Well…I still want to believe it’s just a nightmare and it won’t happen again.