It wouldn't be a trip to Kentucky unless something went wrong. In 2006, we traveled to the Mid-South Paranormal Conference in Louisville, and got stuck in a major storm with severe flooding. We survived, but the next day’s headlines read, "Seven Dead in Flood." None of us had ever seen it rain like it did that night. There were areas where the water was 20 feet deep! In March 2007, we went to Kentucky to visit Waverly Hills Sanatorium, which didn't end up happening because of long, convoluted details. We just hung out with our buddies from the Louisville Ghost Hunters instead.
Finally, on August 10, 2007, we arrived yet again, at Waverly Hills for the Sounds of the Underground tour happening on the actual grounds of the old sanatorium. We had already heard reports of the disgusting 102 degree temperatures in Louisville before we arrived and we knew the idea of an outdoor heavy metal concert in morbidly hot temperatures wasn't going to go exactly as planned.
Mission 1: Breakfast
Our first mission that Saturday morning was breakfast. I love breakfast. It’s the only meal I get excited about. We drove up to Waverly Hills to make sure we knew where the place was and headed back towards the Dixie Highway in search of food. Now because of my love of breakfast, I'm one of those people who hate eating non-breakfast food for breakfast. When I see people relishing in a cold slice of pizza first thing in the morning I shudder. Sadly, as we drove down this highway with endless fast food restaurants, none of them were ones that served breakfast. We found one place and everyone in Louisville was eating there. We settled on a Wendy's, which was depressing. Wendy’s has that “trade your fries for something else” deal so I traded mine for yogurt to create the illusion of breakfast. It didn’t work.
Mission 2: Parking for the Concert
After my depressing breakfast of a turkey sandwich and yogurt, we headed back up to Waverly Hills only to be turned away from the driveway up and told to go park at some collage down the road. A bus would pick us up and bring us to the sanitorium. We had passed some guy selling parking in his front yard and we didn't feel like driving all the way to some collage to park. Turning around and pulling up to the front yard/parking lot, we handed the guy ten bucks to park. He showed us a path behind his house where we could walk up to the sanatorium. This seemed too easy, and of course, it was. As we started to walk up the path, an army of metal head kids were coming back down. Not a good sign. We asked them what was going on and they said, "Security won't let us come up that way. We’re getting our money back!"
The homeowner, or the nickname he earned later on in the story, the "parking expert," gripped the wad of cash in his sweaty hands tightly as he saw all of us coming towards him with irritated looks on our faces.
"You guys can get up to the concert no problem.” He continued to grip his cash and stare at us. “Just go towards thata' way, over those hills and up another hill and it'll take ya guys right up." No one really felt like arguing with the guy, so we just started walking in the direction he pointed. The heat was sweltering and the pilgrimage up to Waverly wasn't a walk in the park. We wandered through an expensive neighborhood still being developed. We must have looked like a bunch of refugees or something, completely out of place. 
As we got closer, Waverly Hills loomed through the trees. Even during the day, the front entrance looked intimidating. Large gargoyles on top of the building stared down at the crowd of people entering the place like silent watch dogs. The perfect place for a heavy metal concert.
Mission 3: Getting In
We had the wonderful privilege of being on the band Gwar’s VIP list. But remember, this is Louisville and nothing goes right when we travel to Louisville. My boyfriend Scott walked up to the security guards working the front gate. He gave them our names and was told we weren't on any of GWAR's lists. Go figure. Scott promptly got on the phone and called Dave Brockie, the lead singer to find out what was going on. Not all the guest lists had arrived yet, the venue was completely disorganized and they hadn't even unloaded their semi-truck yet and to top it all off, Dave had hoped to get a private tour of Waverly Hills for us, which was confirmed and then denied. We were bummed but still happy to be at the show and to meet the bands. After waiting around for what seemed an eternity, we got ourselves into the gates and headed towards the show.
Mission 4: Hydration
Getting water was our number one mission as we entered the concert. I didn’t care what band was on stage. I just wanted water. There were two places selling refreshments. The first one we went to just had beer and pop and they didn’t know where the water was being sold. Creepy. So we went and stood in line at the other refreshment tent. The line wasn’t moving but thank God we were standing next to the redneck pool. Someone had pierced holes in a garden hose and strung it up in the air. The hose created a mist that was a godsend while we stood in line.
I squinted ahead, trying to see what was on the menu. Here’s what the menu actually read: Beer, Soda, Cigarettes, Lighters. That was it. Just the essentials. After thirty minutes, we finally got water and sat down in the shade. A strange Christian metal band was playing and getting booed after they expressed their love for Jesus.
Scott looked down at his backstage pass. “Let’s go find out what we can do with these things,” he said. We got up and walked through the crowd towards the backstage area. The security guard took a look at our badges and waived us in like royalty. Once backstage, we found a tent filled with food, free water and Gatorade. We groaned in annoyance after we had just stood in the heat and paid for water. 
Mission 5: Hooking up with GWAR
We were sitting down under the food tent when a girl started coming our way stumbling. The first thing I thought was Oh man, she’s got heat stroke or something. She walked up to the tent, stumbled one last time, tripped, smacked her head on the tent pole on her way down and laid there. People rushed and helped her up. My friend Jonathan grabbed her hand and sat her on a chair.
“Are you OK?” asked Scott.
In a slurred voice, the girl answered back, “No…I just pissed my pants.” Everyone backed away like she had just announced she was carrying the plague. Sure enough, they moved the girl from the chair to lay her down on the ground after calling the EMT and there was a lovely pool of yellow water. Gross. Just gross. Needless to say, she was messed up on something but it wasn’t the sun. As everyone 
was making a fuss over the messed up chick, Scott’s cell rang and it was Dave Brockie of Gwar. We didn’t realize that we were sitting next to their tour bus the whole time. Dave came out and met all of us and invited us back on the bus. Thank God! Some air conditioning! We hung out for a while and then the rest of the band piled onto the bus. Dave managed to work his magic and we were getting the private tour of Waverly Hills after all.
Mission 6: Touring Waverly Hills Sanatorium with Gwar
Walking through a crowd of sweaty metal head kids was a breeze with Gwar. No one knew who they were. We passed kids wearing Gwar shirts and they didn’t even realize their favorite band just went by them. If you don’t know who Gwar is, they wear outlandish costumes on stage so unless you’re a diehard fan, the majority of people don’t even know what these guys look like for real.
We hooked up with a Waverly Hills historian and our tour began. The place is really incredible and the history behind the place is intense. The hospital opened as a clinic to treat tuberculosis, which was rampant in Louisville when TB was in its heyday. Even during the day, the place wa
s spooky in parts. The heat was still unbearable, even in the shaded building and once we got to the roof with the sun beating down on us again, the heat was really starting to get to me. I was a sweaty mess and my headache that had started earlier in the day was now pounding. We spent a couple hours in the place and once we were done, Gwar had to split to get ready for their show and I didn’t want to leave the slightly air conditioned greeting room. I was starting to feel like crap.
I finally heaved my sad body up and headed back into the heat. We wandered backstage again and I found something to eat, the girl who had pissed her pants earlier passed by me with a new pair of pants on and one of my favorite bands, Shadow’s Fall, started to play, only I didn’t care. I was really slipping into a sorry state.
I started getting to the point where I didn’t even know if I could stay at the show anymore. Scott told me he’d run and get my Ibuprofen all the way back in the car and being desperate, we headed back towards the front gates. Scott ran up to a police officer and explained the situation to him, asking if he could get a ride down to our car. The officer pulled a pack of Ibuprofen out of his pocket. Scott ran back to us, gave one to our buddy Jonathan and two to me.
Mission 6: The Port-O-Potty of Hell
As soon as I grabbed those two pills and slammed them down with some water, my stomach did a somersault. Nausea set in at light speed. I glanced around nervously and my eyes met with a Port-O-Potty. I bolted towards it. Here’s what went through my head as soon as I realized what I had to do.
1. This sucks.
2. I don’t want to get too close to the toilet.
3. What if my sunglasses fall off my head and land in the toilet.
4. If I look at the toilet and the grossness inside it, I’ll never stop puking and it will be an endless cycle until I pass out.
So the scenario went as such. I had to practically stand and projectile vomit while simultaneously holding my sunglasses on my head and after one quick glance into the dark abyss of the toilet, I had to focus on keeping my eyes averted from that chasm of filth or the puking would be a never ending cycle of Hell. Naturally, there was no toilet paper to wipe my mouth and eyes. Standing there, admitting defeat, I just used the inside of my already sweat soaked shirt and let myself out of the Port-O-Potty.
Depression and panic set in. I was sick! Really Sick! What was wrong? Should I be staying here and trying to make it till Gwar came on stage? I broke down. It takes a lot to squeeze a few tears of out me but that was it. I couldn’t stand the idea that because I was sick, we had to leave. I felt bad and thankfully my boyfriend made me feel better and our buddy Jonathan said, “I love you bear” (long story),which made me laugh. But nevertheless, I was admitting defeat. I told Scott to go get the car.
On his way to the car, he ran into the same officer that gave him the Ibuprofen. Scott explained what was happening and the officer said, “Well, there’s a bus sitting over there with the air running. Why don’t you take her in there for a bit and see what happens.” Not wanting to leave, I climbed into the bus and passed out for forty-five minutes. The officer told me I had head exhaustion and needed to get my core temperature down. When I woke up, I felt 75% better and the nighttime air was starting to settle in, bringing the air temperature down.
Gwar finally began setting up their stage and thanks to our backstage passes, we easily walked to the front of the stage off to the side. Naturally, our perfect positions had to be ruined by the few idiots who started to freak out and jump the fence when Gwar started shooting their fake blood and blue water into the audience. The mutants who couldn’t control themselves then caught the attention of the security Nazi in the tight black t-shirt that read, “STAFF” in big white letters on his back. “EVERYBODY OUT!!” he yelled. Scott showed the guy our passes and tried to tell him we weren’t doing anything wrong but the guy’s ego trip was already in warp speed so we left. We still could see the show but it wasn’t as good as the spot we were kicked out of. Jerk. Now why couldn’t he have ended up with heat exhaustion?
Gwar ended and Lamb of God was the last band coming up. We didn’t care. It had been a long enough day so we headed out. Although I was feeling better, Bonnie hadn’t gotten hurt yet. Every trip we go on, Bonnie gets hurt. The place was pitch black for the most part. There were no lights illuminating pathways or anything and the ground was all rutted up from the semi trucks and tour buses. I suddenly heard a thud and a string of expletives shot out of Bonnie’s mouth. She was down! Not being able to see, she twisted her ankle on the uneven ground. She got up, but had to walk with a pained limp all the way back to the car.
And remember the entrance we weren’t allowed to go up at the beginning of the story? We had no problem going down it to leave. No security guards. Nothing. Bonnie limped her way down the hill and I was practically sprinting to get back to the car. But there would be one more surprise awaiting us at the “Parking Experts” front yard.
Mission 7: Trapped Car
Because everything had gone so swimmingly throughout the day, it was only fitting that there would be one more challenge waiting for us. The “Parking Expert,” in his pursuit to make as much money as possible from the concert people, packed as many cars as he could in his yard, boxing our car in on all four sides. Seeing Lamb of God was still playing, it could potentially be another hour before the other cars around us were moved. We were furious to say the least. The “Expert” told us we could get our car out no problem. We had about two feet of space to maneuver with. After much swearing, a couple aborted attempts, solving two ancient mysteries and a Sudoko puzzle, Scott said “Screw it!” and managed to get the car out by some miracle. We fought the urge to run the “Parking Expert” over and headed towards our freedom. We stopped at Taco Bell for our “4th meal” and made it back to the hotel accident free.
You can’t have cake without frosting and the frosting on our cake that night was loud people partying all night in the hotel room next door.
If you visit Waverly Hills, hopefully your stay there won’t involve: girls peeing their pants, puking in a Port-O-Potty, extreme heat, water that eventually ran out, violent headaches, Nazis, twisted ankles and your car getting parked in. We later heard that the owners of Waverly got into some trouble with the city for having the concert. Kids left trash everywhere and damaged property while walking through the nice neighborhoods back to their cars. People even complained about hearing the music all day long. The owners had to do clean up, pay a fine and apologize to the people. At least that’s what we heard, but I’d believe it.
This is Gwar. Click on the photo to visit their website.
If you want to learn the history of Waverly Hills, check out this link.
Those Who Linger - The History and Hauntings of Waverly Hills
Check out more photos from our trip here.
Have you been on the tour? Tell us and others about it.
The Waverly Hills Tour by Carol Mason
Ghosts Aplenty at Waverly Hills by Dan of Battle Creek
Article written by Amberrose Hammond