The Y.M.C.A. Courtyard

    The Y.M.C.A courtyard was the scene for this post. Now let me warn you, this event is highly charged so the meek should turn away from it. The head of San Diego HUD, Kettle Corn, had arrived along with his faithful servant, Marsh Mellow.
    A few months earlier, the hotel had been bought by an Egyptian team  that tried to rid themselves of the Section 8 or other low income citizens to make way for a five hotel by demolishing the old one.  A staff member told me that Todd Gloria had given them permission to buy the iconic 1924 building. (Toddy was the Mayor Pro-Temp while Ex-Mayor Felt-more was in rehab. He will run for Mayor of San Diego in two years.)
   In May the new owners placed a notice under my door at about seven at night. Notices are always placed at night in hope that our misguided sleep might lead to stress early death. They had offered carrots of green to rid themselves of this blotch on their hotel. (The resettlement letter did its job, perhaps the same way Hitler did it to the misguided Jews.) 
    Most of second floor dwellers fell for the bait. The new owners, the Monster Brothers celebrated with a bazaar celebration as to their new wealth. Some of the tenants now live on the streets but still a few good residents remained. 
    Of course I needed to get a floor plan of where I could set up shop. A visit to their Broadway headquarters told me nobody was home except a half English speaking Latina. I left my card with a security guard on a Friday. Kettle Corn was on a vacation on Friday. 
    Monday morning my phone rang. I had never heard the speaker before. He told me he was baffled by the notice we got. Two days later, the Monster Brothers placed another letter under my door. It apologized for the previous intrusion inside our domains. 
    After that the hot water was turned off. No more shampoo was placed into dispensers. One of the Monster Brothers sat in the lobby one early evening. I told him how disappointed it was to shave without hot water. I receded to the stairs and hear a booming noise. It appeared he shouted at Bobby Nicotine, to turn the hot water back on.  The next morning I took my first hot water shower in two weeks. The lack of hot water scalded my memory and creative chips. I didn't write as well without my hot shower since that is when I speak to HIM. 
."Let's move to the outside where their is more room," Bobby Nicotine demanded. He directed the circus outside in the courtyard. He became the new manager after Sir Thomas Cartwright had been dumped. Sir Thomas made everyone unhappy. He had some obsessive disorder. He was always checking everything for dust....but that is another story.
    The sun hovered over us at two o'clock. already seated were wheel chair, stutterer, insanity, lost, and a few others. Kettle Corn sat quietly while Marsh Mellow answered questions. About thirteen remains of the day asked questions. I hastily returned upstairs for my umbrella and returned to hear the questions. 
   "I have looked all over but there are long waiting lists...I make too much money...I've gone to several places only to be turned away." The questions illustrated the futility of HUD. I wondered why it was needed since San Diego was doing away with the poor and middle class.
   I asked Marsh Mellow if the building was going to be "demolished". 
   "I know about as much as you do. The old owners went through bankruptcy, and that is all that I know. Also, we don't know if the 'Y' will be demolished or not."
    Like her name, Marsha tried to mellow out the heat of the day. It allowed Kettle Corn to relax and not be eaten up by these soon-to-be homeless inmates. 
    At that point, Smiling Wong entered the courtyard. Her over zealous smile made me forget why we were here. Marsh and Kettle smiled and welcomed the relief pitcher. 
   Yes it was the ninth inning, and the HUD people worried a few would stay in their cockroach, bedbugs infested rooms. Marsh asked her to speak. 
   "I have the answer to your problems. My building has about 25 air conditioned studios left. I have brought applications. The apartments are on fourteenth and Imperial." My mouth opened wide and threw out words I could not hold back. 
   "Kettle Corn told me about them. The studios are housed inside a unsafe area of San Diego. The homeless are entrenched outside with their their tents, sleeping bags, and Ralph's shopping carts. No place for a grandfather to see his family." 
    "Wait a minute. I have walked safely to Petco Park and haven't been raped or killed yet. We have 24 hour security."

   Well as you can see, the city has placed blinders on the rest of us. no more do they offer low income housing. Instead, more and more hotels will be converted to bring in more tax money to the San Diego treasury. The city will produce more homeless, and future terrorists. It is time the city council has more open meetings. 
  Yet I wonder what would happen if all of us remained after the fourth of September.