The Everglades – Bloodsuckers, Weirdos, and the Question: Will We Survive the Night!? 

This story is true…

The so-called “Green Hell” – just kidding – the Everglades National Park, we had saved for the grand finale of our trip. The plan was to cross from the Gulf of Mexico in Naples to the other side: Miami. Most people drive through the swamps in a single day, just to get from one coast to the other without spending the night. The average tourist usually makes a quick stop for an airboat tour, then moves on.

But there are actually some travelers bold enough to spend the night in the Everglades. They fall prey to a mix of curiosity and recklessness, desperate to experience more of the wilderness – and in doing so, they venture deeper into the swamps.

What many don’t realize is the very real danger they’re putting themselves in. Because the Everglades can be deadly. This is the only place on Earth where alligators and crocodiles coexist in the same region. It’s estimated that over 1.2 million alligators live in Florida – most of them right here in the Everglades.

And if the wildlife isn’t warning enough, a visit to “Everglades City” should sound the alarm. The eerie vibe hits you instantly – like you’ve just walked into a real-life set of The Walking Dead. And when darkness falls and the ground mist begins to rise from the swamps, it starts to feel more like The Fog. Oh, and did you notice? There’s only one bridge in and out of town. So unless you’re planning to flee through the water, your escape route is… limited.

I’ve dared to spend the night in the Everglades twice. And both times, I made it out of Everglades City alive. But the last time… well, it was pure luck that I survived and made it back to Germany to tell the tale.

But how did the nightmare begin?
Like any good horror movie: peaceful, clueless, and naïve.

On Friday, June 9th, 2017, we left Naples in the morning and headed south on the Tamiami Trail. At that point, we were still in civilization – surrounded by people. But that was about to change the deeper we drove into the swamp along the Tamiami Trail.

So now, let the story begin…

There we were, Karina and I, sitting in a white Chrysler Malibu. White is the color of innocence, isn’t it? And if horror movies have taught us anything, it’s that the innocent ones always go first… or was it the other way around? Above us, the sky was a radiant blue, while outside, the muggy Florida heat was already pressing against the cool glass of our car windows. Thank God the AC was running on full blast. Inside our chilled little bubble, we felt safe—after all, if the heat couldn’t get in, what else could?

We had just two nights left in Florida after a fear-free journey through the Sunshine State. Our return flight to Germany was just around the corner. But today, we had one last item on our list: a tour in a propeller boat—or as they call it here, an airboat! These classic flat-bottom boats with airplane-style propellers on the back are built to glide over wet grass and swampy waters. A practical solution really—how else would you get the bodies into the swamp without too much trouble? 🙂

After an hour on the Tamiami Trail, a crossroads suddenly appeared—spoiler alert: it would be the last for quite a while as we continued east toward Miami. At this very intersection was also the last gas station heading east. Turn left and you’re on the interstate, a sensible route to cross the national park. But if you foolishly turn right, well… your fate is no longer in your own hands. Because that way leads straight to Everglades City.

Everglades City – Where horror always begins peacefully

The sun was shining and everything still seemed calm and idyllic, so we turned right and drove a few miles until the sign for “Everglades City” welcomed us. We crossed the one and only bridge into town and headed straight for the first airboat provider we could find, looking for some adventure and adrenaline. The more discerning reader might already suspect that more adventure awaited us than we could possibly imagine. But the protagonists never heed the signs—they walk willingly into their doom.

We pulled into the parking lot and stepped out. The heat had us in its grip now, and it quickly reminded us that we were no longer in control of our bodies. We were sweating. It took effort just to walk the 20 meters to a shaded area where we could ask the lady behind the counter about an airboat ride. She smiled at us—probably knowing full well we were fresh prey. She was very friendly, but perhaps just trying to lull us into a false sense of security. We were handed a blue ticket with a handwritten “2” on it and the name “Shane.” Was it just a ticket… or a coded message for the driver?

We didn’t give it much thought.

After waiting a little while, a sun-weathered man of average height and wiry build rounded the corner. The moment he saw Karina—with her long blond hair—he seemed to lock eyes with his next target. Without hesitation, he reached into a nearby cage covered with wire mesh and pulled out a baby alligator. He held it up directly in front of Karina. Was he just trying to impress her? I don’t think so. More likely, he wanted to see how the gator would react to her—and whether she might qualify as a tasty treat.

Shane was charming and tried to build a personal connection between Karina and the alligator. You know, the more familiar you feel, the less suspicious you become…

Now it was time to board the airboat. Four more tourists joined us — they were from Switzerland and had wisely decided to continue their journey toward the coast, out of the Everglades, right after the swamp tour, and before nightfall. Shane seemed to like our naive attitude and the fact that we didn’t want to feel threatened by the Everglades. He asked if we were planning to spend the night in Everglades City. Karina immediately said yes, and I thought I saw a glimmer in his eyes. The trap had been sprung. He knew we were staying overnight.

Even while the propeller roared around us, he tried to pitch us an offer — to head out with him alone into the swamps that very evening, where he promised to show us giant alligators and other exotic wildlife. I just nodded, since I hadn’t understood a word he said anyway. He smiled again, convinced that his trap had worked. So we continued our ride with him through the swamps — feeling no fear, just pure excitement. As you’ll see in the following video, the airboat ride was a blast.

But everything eventually comes to an end—just like life itself, which can often be shorter than one might imagine. We returned to where it all began. As a final moment, photos were taken of the Swiss guys before they drove off in their car, leaving us alone with Shane.

Now he made us the same offer he had already mentioned during the ride—and for the first time, he saw the disbelief in my eyes. I could only think: why would a complete stranger want to lead us into the swamps just to supposedly show us all these dangerous wild animals? What was in it for him? He hadn’t said a word about money. Did he really expect to come out of the swamps alone again? How many tourists had gone missing or disappeared in those swamps already?

A hundred questions raced through my mind, none of which I had an answer to—when suddenly, Karina said without hesitation:
“Awesome, sounds cool. Let’s do it.”

I just stared at her in disbelief!! What had she just said? I had heard the words, but my mind hadn’t fully processed them, as I was still too caught up in all those unanswered questions.

He smiled, of course. And immediately started explaining how amazing it was going to be and that we’d definitely have something to talk about when we got back home…
“If we survive this,” I added mentally.

The Map of Doom

He grabbed a map of the area from the counter and quickly marked where we should pick him up at 7:30 PM—because, and here it comes, his pickup truck apparently had a broken axle.
A broken axle?? Who believes that?!

And we were supposed to drive out of the city to the same intersection we had come from that morning, and then continue toward the interstate.

After about 2.5 miles, he said he would wait on the right-hand side of the road. From there, we would head into the swamps with him—directly in our rental car. There couldn’t have been a better way to make our car vanish without a trace. He suggested we give him our number so he could call us in the evening and let us know when we should meet him at the agreed location. I told him it would be better if he sent us a text instead. He then asked where we were staying in town, and in my naive carelessness, I simply replied, “Over there, in that motel.” So now he even knew where we were spending the night. That would later prove to be extremely careless and reckless.

We said goodbye, and once we were back in the car, I started talking to Karina. “We’re not doing this. We don’t even know the guy, and we’re supposed to drive straight into the swamps alone with him!? What’s in it for him? Is he just doing this out of the kindness of his heart?”
“Oh come on,” she said, “I’d do the same thing back home.”
“What? Show tourists around Dortmund? That’s totally different. You’re definitely not at risk of getting eaten by alligators there.”

We left the parking lot and drove to our motel. It was a classic roadside motel, just like you see in the movies. You could park right in front of your room. There was an ice machine outside and a soda vending machine. It stood in the middle of the motel complex, covered, and surrounded by two or three grills you could probably use if you wanted.

We quickly unloaded the car, cooled off a bit in the air-conditioned room, and then decided to drive to the southern tip of town to take some photos and fly my drone. I had stayed here once before, back in 2013, and had fond memories of an absolutely amazing pizza I’d eaten here. So we set out to find that exact same diner.

Getting Ready for the Night

We started getting ready for the night.

First, we pushed Shane to the back of our minds and enjoyed the giant pizza—which, once again, was absolutely amazing. Afterwards, we went to the counter, paid, and I had the clever idea to ask the staff if they knew Shane and whether he could be trusted. After all, we had that photo of him with the alligator. I showed it to them, and our waiter—a guy around 20—blurted out immediately, “Yeah, that’s my uncle. You can trust him.”

Wait, who isn’t related to whom around here? That was my first thought. On the one hand, it was a bit reassuring. On the other hand, we were also kind of confused that we’d randomly bumped into a local who was related to him.

Back at the motel, just 200 meters away, we showed the photo to the lady at the front desk. She just said she recognized him by sight. Was that a good thing? You can also recognize serial killers by sight—doesn’t mean you can see into their minds.

I still felt uneasy and wasn’t convinced we should go out into the swamps with him tonight—or rather right now, because it was already just after 7 p.m.

Karina, however, just said: “What’s the big deal? It’ll probably be cool.”

“Yeah, ‘cool’ until the alligator has your leg in its mouth and you’re hopping one-legged out of the swamp,” I replied.

To keep the peace, I suggested we’d give it a try—if he texted us. In the meantime, I was already drafting a WhatsApp message to my mom, telling her to contact the police first thing in the morning if she didn’t hear from me. Keep in mind: in Germany, it was already 1 a.m.

Karina just said, “Are you nuts? Your mom will have a heart attack if she reads that. She won’t sleep a wink until she hears from you. But hey, send me the message too—I’ll send it to someone in Germany as well.”

The message was ready to go… but no word from Shane.

7:30 p.m. came and went. Then 8:00 p.m.

“Why don’t you message him?” Karina asked, with youthful recklessness.

“Why should I message him? He said he’d message us,” I replied.

“Maybe he wrote down the wrong number,” she suggested.

“I watched him write it down. I checked it. It was 100% right—even with the +49 in front,” I said.

Outside, the light turned red as dusk settled in.

I decided not to wait any longer and had the brilliant idea to film the sunset from above with my drone.

Big mistake.

I stepped outside and launched the drone from the parking lot.

They were coming! Blood was flowing in streams!

She climbed steeply into the air while I walked behind the motel to keep the drone in sight and under control. The sky was a breathtaking red. Wow. But suddenly—what was that? A sting—no, several stings. Oh God, hundreds of mosquitoes attacked me. They clung to my legs, covered my hands, the very ones gripping the controller. My fingers started to tremble. My whole body began to itch. I tried to rub my legs with my shoes and all I saw was smeared blood left behind by the dead mosquitoes I had crushed. It was a full-blown massacre. I barely managed to land the drone, grabbed it instantly, and rushed back to the room. I had been outside for less than five minutes and my entire body was covered in bites and swelling. Even under my T-shirt, my back and upper arms were dotted with red spots, already starting to puff up. My right hand looked like something out of The Elephant Man—completely swollen and barely movable. The mosquitoes out there were insanely aggressive. During the day, you wouldn’t notice a thing, but once night fell, being outside became a life-threatening risk.

You know that feeling when you want to scratch every inch of your body raw because it itches like hell? Pure horror. But the night wasn’t over yet—this was just the beginning of the nightmare.

It was 9 PM when suddenly there was a knock at the door. Without thinking much, I opened it—having no idea what to expect. But I was lucky: it was just the lady from reception standing there, holding a note in her hand. She told us that Shane had called and said we should get in touch with him. I thanked her, but deep down I knew there was no way I was going to call him. Not anymore. Not now. Still, I had to give him credit—he was persistent.

Suddenly, Shane was at the door!

It was just before 10 p.m. when I decided to finally take a shower. Karina and I had already wrapped up the whole “Shane topic” and, thanks to the mosquitos outside, we figured it was better to end the evening in our room. So, I went into the bathroom.

While I was in the shower, I heard some knocking, but I didn’t think it was for our room and didn’t pay much attention to it. I took my time, enjoyed the refreshing water, and didn’t come out until 20 minutes later.

Karina was sitting on the bed, trembling like a leaf. She looked at me with wide eyes and said, her voice shaking, “Didn’t you get my WhatsApp message?”
Me: “No, when did you send one?”
“Just now.”

I checked my phone—and there it was: a message from Karina. But what I read completely floored me.
It said: “SHANE is here. I’m outside at the drinks machine!”

I just stared at her and asked, “Wait, Shane? When was he here?”
That’s when she started to explain:

“When you disappeared into the bathroom, I suddenly got really thirsty for something cold. Since we didn’t have anything here, I went outside to the vending machine. When I got there, I realized I had no money on me, so I went back to the room. When I stepped out again, I saw four hefty English guys sitting outside their room to the right. I didn’t think much of it and headed straight to the vending machine.

Just as I got my can, Shane appeared at our door. I didn’t even see where he came from. He knocked on our door and then checked out our car—he even crouched down to get a closer look at the license plate.”

“And what did you do?” I asked in shock.

“I kept moving around the vending machine to avoid being seen. Then I messaged you on WhatsApp and decided I’m not going back into our room.”

“Why the hell is he showing up after 10 p.m.?! We didn’t contact him again. That should’ve told him everything he needed to know! How creepy is that—just showing up at our motel like that?”

“Yeah, and then… then he asked the English guys if they knew where the Germans were staying. They had seen me come out of the room, but they didn’t say a word. They didn’t rat me out. I thank God for that.

Afterwards, he sat down on the chair in front of our room and waited.”

“All that while I was in the shower?” I asked, wide-eyed.

“Yes!! And then suddenly a car pulled into the motel—two guys were inside. They stopped by Shane, he stood up, got in, and then they slowly drove out of the motel, turned onto the main road, and disappeared out of town.”

“Unbelievable. And to think he told us he didn’t have a car or didn’t know how he’d even get to us,” I said. “Thank God we didn’t go to the swamps with him.”

“I’m not staying here another night. There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep now. Let’s pack up and get out of here now,” Karina said, slightly hysterical.

“Why don’t you Google if there are any reports about missing tourists in the Everglades?” I replied ironically, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

It turned into a long and uneasy night. The next morning, we packed up and left town just after 9 a.m. I don’t think I’ll ever return to Everglades City—not because of what happened, but because I’ve already been there three times now.

Everything I described happened exactly as written—nothing was made up. I also don’t believe Shane had any bad intentions, but the whole thing was still strange and gave us the creeps.

He probably just didn’t want us to think he was bailing on his offer to take us into the swamps. And yes, I dramatized the eerie tone a bit—but honestly, it truly felt that way in the moment.

Of course, the Everglades aren’t dangerous—as long as you follow three simple rules:
Never expose the alligator to sunlight. Never get the alligator wet. And never feed it after midnight. 😉

P.S.
If any of you readers ever run into Shane in Everglades City, I’d love to hear his version of that night—maybe we could finally solve the mystery. Thank you!

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