This was a kind of unexpected Youth Center addendum—post-McGee move-out—and it’s honestly bizarre walking through it now. The whole place smells like an abandoned building, musty and empty, and I’ve never seen the rec room and sanctuary this stripped out. I’m looking at bare wood beams, bits of tin ceiling, old plaster, and daylight coming in where it absolutely shouldn’t be (yep… holes and a persistent leak). They even tore up the carpet, and you can still see the mount points where the theater seats used to be. I do a full walkthrough checking what’s changed and what’s somehow still hanging on: working lights in odd spots, furnaces running, mirrors still lit, and even my desk still sitting there like nothing happened. I also point out the little mysteries—like the neon clock/exit sign theory from old photos, the “death ladder” still surviving, and Rex wiring sightings that remind you how old this building’s bones really are. To cap it off, I do what I had to do: a quick test of what seems to be the last fan left behind (a Menards/Hunter-style builder fan). It was air-locking so I had it in reverse, but with the room emptied out it actually moves a bit more air. Last fan of the night—had to give it one more spin.