Hotel San Diego: Part 1

In July, 2001 the owner of www.SuperheroineCentral.com hired me to work at his booth at the San Diego Comic Convention. He booked a room for me at the Wyndham Emerald Plaza in the downtown area so I could stay near the convention center and also so he could use the hotel room for filming some videos. We arranged a shoot with Jewell Marceau on one of those days. At some point during the shoot the website owner and his assistant were discussing how they could get an extra hotel room. Virtually every hotel in the downtown area was booked to capacity because the Comic Convention draws huge crowds from around the world each year. The assistant pointed out the window at a huge white building with faded red lettering that spelled out “Hotel San Diego.”

“Look at that place,” he said with a smirk. “I bet you could get a room there. What a dump. Look at those old air conditioners sticking out of the windows.”

Everyone in the room laughed at the dilapidated old building and I felt sad. I had already circled the perimeter of the structure numerous times and tried to climb underneath a fence to get closer to it. My friend Raul, who was also attending the convention, had been with me. He could not understand my fascination with the place. I kept insisting that it was an amazing work of art and guessed that it had been built around the turn of the last century. He loitered nearby as I went up to every possible window and tried to peer inside. Sometimes it seems like I spend half my life with my nose pressed against dirty window panes. Raul trailed behind me reluctantly for over an hour because he thought the neighborhood was unsafe. Finally I found a hole in the chain link fence surrounding the property. A bedraggled homeless man lunged at me and began yelling incoherent threats when I started to approach it. Raul grabbed my arm and shepherded me down the sidewalk. I hate it when people steer me around but I could tell he had done it out of concern. That episode concluded my perusal of the building for the afternoon. Raul went to go hang out with some friends and I went to the lobby bar at the Wyndham and started asking people questions about the Hotel San Diego. Most of them knew nothing about it even though the few with whom I spoke actually lived in San Diego. After my third drink a man with information happened to sit next to me. He said the old hotel was slated for demolition and that for a time it had been used by the Mitchell Brothers of San Francisco fame as a venue for live sex shows.

For the rest of my stay I stared at the Hotel San Diego through my hotel window. One window on an upper floor of the grand old place was always open and some old, tattered Venetian blinds would flutter through the window frame if the wind blew. The property had been completely fenced off – it did indeed look like it was slated for demolition - but someone was in there. My instincts told me that person had a specific purpose and I wondered obsessively about what they were doing there.

After returning home I did countless searches on the Internet for “Hotel San Diego” and they all yielded nothing other than endless listings of hotels in San Diego. I looked for “Mitchell Brothers San Diego”, “historic hotels San Diego”, "haunted hotels San Diego" and a hundred other combinations of terms that might give me some information about that captivating building. Nothing of substance turned up in any of my searches.

A few weeks later I was watching TV with Raul, Jewell Marceau, and a few other people. Some movie was on and all of a sudden Wesley Snipes was walking out of the Hotel San Diego. I recognized the red lettering on its once-glorious entrance. “That’s the Hotel San Diego!” I almost shouted. Raul and Jewell exchanged glances and then both rolled their eyes. They both knew about my fixation with the place and were equally perplexed by my interest in it. Jewell in particular had grown weary of hearing about the hotel and warned me that she was going to be especially brutal during our bondage shoot the following day if I started talking about “that dumpy place” again. Of course I could not stop talking about it..

Jewell was indeed very demanding the next day. She loves having her feet worshipped and that's what she made me do- before she tied me up, gagged me, and blindfolded me with her worn nylon stockings. You can see the gigantic "Babes in Black" gallery in The Bondage Room at www.TanyaDanielle.com now!

- XXOO Tanya

---------------
www.PennysaverDomains.com - Cheapest domain registrations on the Net!

Technorati Profile