Along the far wall, a mural of a giant octopus with a terrifyingly human face watches over us. Archways with elaborate wood carvings resembling muscular waves encircle a long rectangular table set for dinner. No one mentioned anything about conjuring supernatural ones.Īfter a stiff welcome drink, a host marches us one by one like captives past a sign that reads “Submarine Tours This Way” and into a cavernous dining room with teal lanterns that rappel down from the ceiling. We were warned that dinner would involve imbibing high-ABV spirits. Judging from everyone’s blank expressions, nobody got the memo about a séance. “Are you staying for the séance tonight?” a man standing in the corner of the room asks, grinning mischievously. We’ve each been escorted through a maze of dark, shadowy hallways to a room bathed in crimson light. Sixteen of us are sitting in a circle around a giant mahogany table waiting for our dinner reservation.
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