At the grave of Edgar Allan Poe - By N.L. Belardes

A little while ago I sat watching the World Series at a little corner bar in Baltimore. Before that I was in Baltimore's Little Italy, chowing on linguini and shrimp, calamari, and some good red wine. I was a little tipsy.

Earlier I realized that Poe's grave was likely within walking distance of where I was staying. I'd walked past the Inner Harbor, past firemen securing a gas leak. I saw old sea vessels, and eventually watched St. Louis take a 4-3 lead in the ballgame. "I gotta go," I said to the fellas I was with. "I think I want to go see Poe's grave."

It was nearly midnight.

The streets of downtown Baltimore at midnight are creepy to say the least. I wound my way beneath a huge tower, tiptoed around people sleeping on the sidewalk and headed past the Hippodrome as people passed along the sidewalk.

Eventually I found West Fayette Street where Poe's grave rests in Westminster Hall Cemetery. The gates were closed, but that didn't stop me from being extremely creeped out...

I wasn't sure which grave was his and didn't stay very long to find out. I'll be back in the morning to grasp the mystery.

This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on Thursday, October 26, 2006. You can leave your response.