Yesterday, I wrote about Rick's retirement birthday from Amtrak. I made the error of stating it would be his last day. Of course Horst Cahn, sole living survivor of Auschwitz, corrected me. It just would not be Horst if he wasn't giving us his two cents worth.
I had asked Rick what he would do on his "first day of retirement." Of course Horst has his two bit reply for me.
"George, how can he be alive when his last was the 30th?"
Well I don't give a shit, Horst!
"If you don't give a shit you will surely die of constipation."
As you can see, nobody wins with Horst. It is not by mere accident he survived Auschwitz' Rubber Camp when 3, 999 others didn't. He used his wits and all of us at table 5 have to suffer for it.
My biggest day was yesterday. I took my Oram Properties $1800 check and cashed it at the Wells Fargo Bank in Encinitas, but not before some scuffling. I had signed a letter stating my desire to leave the Cock Roach Hotel on the third of September. In now way should I have survived without God's interference.
It was MAY of 2011 when I went to room 204. Sir Thomas Cartwright found a room available on the the cu-cu floor of floor of fools. A Bobby Medina, a Philippine clerk, had told me a room was ready for me but he lied. Nothing was ready and my application had been lost. This foreshadowed stranger events. (Bobby spoke it but had no clue to the meaning of the English language.)
An elephant flew his horn inside the room next to me. Was I in the Bell-view Psychiatric hospital. Doors banged. Zebras ran up and down the floor. Zomba music blasted from music boxes. More doors slammed.
Well I complained at the front desk, and the clerks gave me a quizzical look, but no reply. I spent two hours roaming around the Harbor area. I enjoyed an English clam chowder at at Anthony's and shared it with the many seagulls.
My first night I don't know how I survived. I threw a few sleeping pills into my mouth. The elephant next door still made his bugle sound off and on. Boom Boxes continued to blast-away. The sound of unhinged doors woke me every few minutes.
I used my inhaler a few times to ward off my asthma attacks. I wondered why there was no A/C. The sound of buses, cars, trolleys, and a the horn of a coming cruise liner made noise and dust a constant companion.
In the ensuing months, one inmate hit the fire alarm for five days. Sleep now was impossible. My life was threatened by Jelly Belly Beans, a referral from Cameroon. There were more blacks than whites but somehow I made it through hot days, when I needed a voucher from Kaiser Permanente to just stay alive.
Up though the cracks came thousands of cock roaches. These insects played tag with the many bed bugs who slept with me. My legs looked like a raw steak with blood leaking from every cell. I itched and itched many nights away. I learned to sleep inside my clothes.
Everybody had things stolen. Several told me it was the maids that took thinks not boarded up. Cameras, computers and anything worth money was grabbed by these bed makers.
With the dank air, I battled bronchitis many-a-night. Even a trip to the City Council produced only only hemming and nodding. I found out that San Diego was on the list as one of our worst air polluted cities.
These last 'Y' days have been a dream come true. The animals are gone. I can sleep, take long showers and no longer have my life threatened. I still go to Lindbergh Field on hot days for sleep or in an emergency the next-door Weston for a shot of clean air.
The Monster Brothers took over the El Loco Hotel. Their firm name is Oram Properties located inside Camp Pendleton. The city council took over the building and allowed them to buy it. A staff member of the hotel told me that they were supposed to upgrade the hotel.
Instead, they turned off the hot water, sent a 60 day termination notice to us under our doors. Most fled withing two weeks. They then rescinded the notice and gave us another two month notice later on. The rooms during Comic-Com rented for as much as $300 per. Today the rooms rent for sixty five a night, including a bunk bed shared with another. As a visitor from Marseilles, France told me her experience a few weeks ago.
"Never will I return to this hotel. Why does only one elevator work? And I was up all night. Flies were hitting me at all angles."
Dear they were not flies. They were Cockroaches. Your lucky that the bed bugs didn't bother you or you would have itched your way out a lot sooner. I myself have had spiders sit down beside me and have dinner. Thank God my Kaiser doctor told me they were't the deadly kind.
"It is nice taking to you. Can you tell me how to get to the border."
In my poor French, I walked with her to the American Plaza Trolley Lines. A gave a TSA worker two fifty for a one way on the Blue Line. She would then take a plane to her destination inside the city.
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