Dear Friend, 

I like to claim my first visit as an accident, but maybe ‘unplanned’ is the better term. ‘Accident’ implies that I take no responsibility for my actions, and I do. I had a choice. The accidental part of my story was how I came across my entrance… But the actual entering? That part was purposeful. I had the choice to not enter, the choice to turn back- but instead I kept going, venturing deeper into the darkness beneath the abandoned Athens State Hospital. 

Now that I think back, it is really quite fitting that my first route from the basement to the upper wards was through the main Hydrotherapy unit. From the almost complete darkness into a huge room with arched ceilings and a white-tiled floor. A row of broken antique sinks and cabinets line one wall- covered with a menagerie of empty beer cans, animal feces, old food wrappers and assorted other trash left by exploring college students over the years. I wondered who would actually want to consume anything while inside this place with the state it was in- every step I took kicked literal decades of dust into the air and I could already feel the grittiness in my own nose, coating my throat. 

While the Hospital was in operation, the hydrotherapy unit was often one of the first stops for many incoming patients- especially for those who were deemed overly ‘excited’ upon their arrival. A typical treatment involved a long bath, or a needle-shower, with water alternating between extreme hot and cold temperatures. The practice was thought be be therapeutic and one of the first medical examples of shocking the body in order to calm the mind. A bath may sound relaxing, until you learn that just one ‘continuous bath’ treatment could last several hours to days- however long it took for the patient to finally become sedated. 

From the hydrotherapy unit, up the crumbling stairs (taking extra care to avoid the many broken steps), through the door at the top, then around the corner. Immediately, the view took my breath away…The symmetry…The colors… And all of it bathed in a golden autumn glow. Brightly colored paint peeling away from every wall, revealing layers upon layers of the the hospital’s history with each coat. Every color the hallway had ever been painted was exposed- turquoise flecks of the topmost layer littering the tiled floor like a newly fallen snow. Pillars of light spilling from each doorway, mixing with shadow to create giant X’s wherever two beams cross. And at the very end of the hallway, three huge windows from floor to ceiling with a ragged curtain- the yellow in perfect contrast with the bright turquoise walls.  

In a daze, I crept down each deserted hallway, my quiet footsteps echoing like thunder, going in and out of various rooms… Tiny patient rooms which were designed to house just one person at a time, but due to overcrowding instead once held more. A giant sunroom with beautiful bay windows. Bathrooms with cramped toilets, hardly any space to turn around. And even a seclusion room or two, coverings over every window, the door even fitted with an extra bolt to keep it firmly in place.

An unplanned visit- there wasn’t much time to explore this maze of a building… I made it all the way up to the attic before coming out of my daze and remembering to check the time. Realizing I had only minutes to arrive back outside for a work meeting, (my coworkers had taken a break for lunch and would be regrouping soon), I knew I had to leave, right now, if I had any chance of making it out in time…but how exactly? I realized how lost I’d become. Every room, every ward, every floor looked similar and I couldn’t remember which stairway had taken me up from the basement. I began to panic, knowing my absence would be noted immediately if I were to arrive late to the meeting. Looking around, I noticed a bright orange post-it note inconspicuously stuck to a wall. I’d seen several before, but hadn’t given them much thought. Further down the hallway I spotted another, and then a third on the entry to a staircase. I began to follow the post-it note breadcrumb trail left by a previous explorer, which lead down to the basement, through the the hydrotherapy unit, the tunnels and back outside. Back in the sunlight, surrounded by crisp autumn air, I suddenly felt as though I had traveled through time. The outside world no longer felt real, as though I had just emerged from a time capsule. In complete shock, I rushed to my car, just in time to watch as the van containing my coworkers pulled up, ready for the meeting. 

I told them I had an amazing lunch break, and they said they did as well, although I’m guessing not quite in the same way… My life has not been the same since.