Boot Hill

Near the conclusion of Phantom Manor, rather than falling into a cemetery filled with "grim, grinning ghosts" as in the Haunted Mansion, guests instead are dropped into an open grave for a trip through the Underworld. Just when you think you've escaped this pit of rotting (but not quite dead) corpses, you emerge into Phantom Canyon, a ghostly version of Thunder Mesa. Here, the town's Mayor tips his hat (and his whole head) as you pass, and the undead engage in everything from a bank robbery to a game of cards in a saloon.

Ultimately, it's the ethereal, wedding gown-clad ghost of Melanie Ravenswood who leads you safely back to our world and the exit of the attraction. A visit to Phantom Manor wouldn't be complete, though, without a stroll past Boot Hill, the town's graveyard.

The cemetery scene begins near the mansion, with the tombs of Henry and Martha Ravenswood, who "Quarreled and fought as man and wife, Now silent together beyond this life."

There are quite a few other former residents of Thunder Mesa here, too, along with some of the humorous epitaphs we've come to expect at the U.S. Haunted Mansions. Here are:

B. ARNOLD

Cold is my bed, But oh I love it

For colder are my friends above it

Here Lies

LEADFOOT FRED

Danced too slow and now he's dead

(notice the bullet holes in his boots)

Consider the case of young Frank Ballard and Mary Murphy. They were in love and determined to get married, but Frank's mother had something to say about that. Now, even in death the two lovers are drawn together... and Ma Ballard is still looking over their shoulders.

Or how about the poor fellas who died in Mine No. 39:

THESE MINERS WERE TOLD

ABOUT DIGGING TOO FAST

THEY LOST ALL THEIR GOLD

IN A DYNAMITE BLAST

Around the bend is a collection of tombstones which some may mistake as a version of a pet cemetery. Look more closely, though, and you'll see they tell a different story. It seems November 13, 1865 (a Friday no doubt) was unlucky for this poor squirrel, cat and hunter. They became breakfast, lunch and dinner, respectively, for a burly bear. He eventually got his, though, joining them 20 years later: "Hibernating in happiness after years of hearty hunting."

With all these deaths, this corner of Thunder Mesa is not the happiest... unless, of course, you're J. Nutterville. He's the local undertaker and cabinet maker. My guess is, he's been making fewer cabinets lately.