Room 229:
The New Tourists
With their charges on spring break, 20-something nannies Esme and Kim have driven down from San Francisco for a long weekend. Though both admit they’d like to "just lie around the pool and relax," they cannot resist the bid to be good tourists, and, at noon, begin planning a day that includes
Venice Beach, the Hollywood sign and Mann’s Chinese. "We stayed at the Travel Inn yesterday, and it was a
nightmare," says Esme, a tall, slender golden girl originally from London. "First, there were bars on all the windows, and then we ran into two gals who said the cops had been there the night before. We piled all the furniture in front of the door before we went to bed." "The first time I came to L.A., in 1990, I stayed on Sunset, near downtown," says Kim, a chatty fat girl with a diffuse gaze, "and three bikers tried to break in!" "We saw this place this morning and asked him for a room, and he gave us one," says Esme, audibly relieved. "We feel really safe here." "And the pool is gorgeous," says Kim. "The other place could’ve had a body in its pool, but you wouldn’t know, because it was so
dirty." They look dreamy as they spread open a Map of the Stars’ Homes. "We drove by those houses in
Beverly Hills yesterday and got really depressed," says Esme, pouting. "We got very upset." "Jealous," says Kim. "Well, maybe not jealous, but sick, because one block down, there’s homeless." "Up here, it’s money, and then, nothing!" says Esme. They are silent for a moment as they watch Frank pace the balcony. Today he’s sporting a pair of large, dark women’s sunglasses, which give him the doomed, mysterious mien of
Gloria Swanson in
Sunset Boulevard. "Hey!" says Esme. "We should book a whole bunch of rooms here during the summer and bring eight of our friends!" "Yes!" Kim concurs. "We have, like, eight friends." "And it’s like a dorm here," says Esme. "People hanging over the balcony, talking to each other. And I really like the palm trees."
Room 230:
The Old Tourist
Bill C., 59, a portly electrician with
Union Pacific who lives in
Omaha, is content to pass the afternoon in a Naugahyde chair in the lobby. "I been stayin’ here 15 years. Bob lets me stay in what room I want, and if it’s noisy, he’ll let me move. I usually stay on the back side — I like 230. It’s a double, but he lets me have it for a single. At Christmas, I come out, I bring them a railroad calendar, and they always give me a box of chocolate. "I came in from Vegas this time, from a convention for the company. I don’t gamble, but they have all that good food — steaks, pork chops. But I’ll be damned if I’ll stand in line for an hour to eat. But this time, we had a big sit-down, with prime rib. This was Friday, and then we was all supposed to get on the plane and go home. I told my boss, ‘Make my ticket for Monday morning, I’m going to L.A.’ "I like L.A. because it’s away from everything. I come here and do nothin’. It’s away from home and away from people. Sleep ’til noon if I want to. I go out to eat. I used to go to Snow White’s coffee shop, but Russians took it over. Now I go over to the Studio. I go to that bar Coach & Horses, but it ain’t like it used to be. First time I walked in, I seen this old gray-haired guy rassling with this young gal, so I say to this guy sitting next to me, ‘What’s that old guy doing rassling that girl?’ and he laughs and tells me, ‘That’s the owner!’ His name was Bob, and he always called everyone ‘mate.’ I guess he was in the Navy. But I take it he died. Last time I stopped in there, it was packed with young people. I gather from their talk they’re working in the movie industry, or trying to. Everybody tryin’ to get somethin’ for nothing."
Room 248:
The Bullshit Artist
Short, bowlegged, pushing 40, Bill is well-muscled, with a straggly blond ponytail and a leathery, surfer-dude complexion. He sits in his room, the TV tuned to
Maury Povich, showing highlights of the old
Newlywed Game. "I’m originally from
San Bernardino. I work for real estate companies, cleaning out condos, so I usually just stay there during the week and stay here on the weekends. I come to the Saharan to chill out. I might get a girl, a dancer, and bring her here. I knew a girl who worked next door at the Seventh Veil, Megan, a beautiful girl. But she wanted to fall in love, so I had to let her go." As he speaks, he affects a predatory juju with his savagely untrustworthy blue eyes. "I’m in a band. It’s called Excalibur, kind of medieval,
Led Zeppelin–type rock & roll. When I came here 10 years ago, I had some talent scouts after me, and I’ve upgraded my talents so much since then. I’m so close to signing a contract.
Steven Tyler’s been following me around for nine years. He said he wanted to pick me up and promote me, but it turned into too much of a spiritual war. His offer to me was 2 percent — 98 percent for him. They like to make life hell for you. So I’m a little shut down now, just doing standup comedy on Slow Ride radio. It’s part of
Crystallized Incorporated, which is part of the Psychic Network. What I’m involved in is a form of coordinating people’s minds and setting their goals — kind of revelational to events taking place right now. "I have a lot of people checking in with me because of things I prophesied that came true. I have connections to the Man Upstairs. I’m up against those into witchcraft and atheists and people into black worship.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer has nothing on me. I know the casting director for
Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I do a lot of spiritual warfare that makes that show look so real. I imagine they can get a lot of scripts from what I do, because I channel spirits. I feel like that guy in
Hitchhiker. I have the ability to exorcise demons, and to do cybersex, which involves a lot of spirituality and demonology. There’s a spiritual arousement when you see certain females, for masturbation. But it’s gotten out of hand and abused. Where my political statute comes in is to get people to bring about a law to stop this abuse. I’m waiting for this offer to come through so I can bring more awareness to middle-class families, businessmen, and give them information through channeling and prophecy. "I’m a poet, and I do lyric structure, when I’m not doing psychic evaluations. I can create so fast, people wind up following me around. I deal especially with women who are in trouble — drug abuse, pimps. I step in between them and trouble. Sometimes I get involved with them, sometimes it’s sexual. It depends what they have to offer. Then, if they start to get dependent, I make it clear I don’t have the time, because I deal with a whole lot of people, all the way to Washington. "So I stay alone. I like it that way. These people at the Saharan make me feel at home. Other places are more erotic, like this place on
Fairfax that has all different sex themes in the rooms. I can grab someone, go there, and feel intimate. But this is seclusion, and it’s close to political figures, and the
House of Blues and the Sky Bar. Even if I had 2 million in the bank, I’d stay here. I’d give people money to eat, or to a girl and say, ‘Get away from your crack-dealing boyfriend.’"
