My mother always told me it’s good to experience new things in life. And my entering into the bowels of the Albany Medical Center to access its morgue is most definitely a new experience. Not one I had written down at the top of my bucket list, but a new experience all the same.
The corridor is long and dimly lit with wall-mounted light fixtures protected by metal cages, not all that different from an industrial facility where the danger of breaking bulbs is a constant occurrence. The walls are covered in thick, rectangular, off-white tiles like down in the subways of Manhattan. Overhead, the ceiling is exposed revealing an intricate spaghetti of aluminum, metal, and PVC plastic conduits that snake their way along the length of the corridor before abruptly curving at a ninety degree angl
