Our fellow blog traveler Joe 2 Hell asked in the Palm Springs Weekend post below:
“did you stay at one of those cleverly named “Inns”??
Inn Too Deep
Inn Over My Head
Inn Deanna Jones
So we have to cut him some slack. Plenty, plenty slack
Anyway, coincidentally enough, the first time R Man and I went to Palm Springs, lo these many years ago, we did stay at one of the Inn (place cliché here) hotels. It was the Inn Exile. An eye opening experience, even for me, and you may have noticed when it comes to sleazy venues, I’ve been around the block. A few times.
So the Inn Exile is extreme Palm Springs. Every inch of it is paved, the walls sprayed with cheap white stucco in order to maximize tanning potential. More than a couple of days there and you’d turn into a raisin. It was like checking into Chernobyl. Multiple pools, hot tubs, steam room, little fuck pods scattered around the grounds. If Hugh Hefner had been gay, this would have been his sleaze dream. The other guests had this leering air of just waiting for friskiness to break out, but honey, they were grizzly. I would have cut off my dick and sewn it in my butt before I’d give it up for this bunch.
Each room came equipped with a VCR and three porn tapes, just to set the mood I suppose. Appropriate too, since I have since noticed several D level smut films set in this resort. Charmingly, there was a porn maid who came around each morning, picked up the tapes and left three new ones. You don’t get that kind of guest attention at the Hilton.
We have since moved to El Mirasol, a much more sedate place next door to Inn Ex. It’s a series of cabanas built by Howard Hughes as a guesthouse and is lushly landscaped. Much nicer. But I do miss the porn maid.