Old friends from my hotel childhood
My name is Christian and I am 24 years of age and currently work at the Comfort Inn & Suites in the city of Long Beach, CA. My job is pretty cool and I have been here for three years. I come here everyday with a smile on my face and enjoy the company of our guests. I make sure to have them leave comfortably and satisfied with my services and have a feeling of joy to see them smiling. This place really does feel like home to me. Actually it was my home. I used to live here for five years of my life as a child and perhaps the reason why I care so much for this place. It once stood as the International Inn.
You see my family had fallen on hard times and this hotel was the only resort for our savings. My mother has been the manager here since I was 8 years old and we lived here rent free. Me, my two brothers and sister slept with my parents in one room for a year. I have made plenty friends with the children growing up here and their parents, some who also worked here, as well. Life as a child in a hotel was fun but along with all the action/adventures I have taken, I had my unfair share of horror stories.
This hotel has a hidden history and sometimes unregistered guests occupy these rooms. I can count 10 deaths in the time of my stay here as a boy. I knew half of them exclusively and strangely, I still do. The following entries are true reports from the employees of our establishment. The reports also consist of complaints of our guests that sadly are also true.
(*Note: I have changed all names in respects to my friends and family. No stories have been altered besides the names of the witnesses)
Bryant (1st Floor South D Storage)
Fifth report: Sanchez's Ladder (1st Floor South D Storage)
"The International Inn" (currently the Comfort Inn & Suites) Has been present through the vital changes in Long Beach. I cannot recall the establishment date of the property but, as a child, I remember owning a very old postcard from the sixties. It was really colorful and "Rad" with "Far out" furniture and "Neeto" BBQ pits at the swimming pool area. It had an awesome diving board and women with poka-dotted one piece sun bathing with their 60's spectacular spectacles and matching head scarves. (The diving board was removed in the 90's due to a tragic accident with a boy's head and the pool floor) In the 60's, It is fair to say that, The International Inn was the bee'z knees in the community.
"Bryant", a former owner of the International Inn, was in charge during the post card years. My mom's first boss here was Bryant's nephew "Bruce". Bruce inherited the business after employees discovered the owner, Bryant, hanging by the neck in the Southern D storage room. A sad reality to how fragile some characters can be in the face of struggle. Bryant had undergone a divorce and financial problems that had literally suffocated the remaining breathes of his life. His wife claimed all of his earnings and left the Bryant and his family the hotel.
"Sanchez" was the maintenance worker during the time my family lived in the Inn. He used both North and South D storages for his base of operations. He spoke minimal english and yet could understand it all. Actually my mom spoke proper Spanglish to make it easier for Sanchez to comprehend the tasks at hand. Then again, My mom's English was a bit hard for him to take in as well. Beyond the difficulties of communication, Sanchez always did have a peculiar problem during his employment at the Inn. Whenever he would leave his work room, it seems that someone would rearrange his tools and items on his desks. Sanchez always would return to finding his personal belongings kicked to the ground and table pushed back against the cupbords. Sanchez and Mom would constantly have the same discussion of frustration and yet there was no one to pin it on. Mom never told him about Bryant. I'm not sure if she thought it would affect his work or maybe because it was to difficult for her to convey to him.
An even stranger addition to the events that took place is, whenever Sanchez unlocked his room, Sanchez's small step ladder would be standing in the center of the doorway below the water pipes that puzzled across the ceiling. The largest pipe wore a lace of rope tied around its body with an extended length hanging below the knot. Sanchez would try his best at English to us kids and ask if the frustrating routine was our doing and if not, maybe we could have spotted the perpetrator. Not I nor any other child in the complex would dare anger the lazy eyed nearly mute maintenance worker because in truth, we kids found him intimidating when he would try to speak to us.
The messy event continued until Sanchez moved his ladder to another part of the grounds. Since the relocation, Sanchez didn't have to try to speak us anymore. Sanchez went on for another couple of years working as the maintenance until he found a better source of income. It wasn't until the new maintenance man arrived, the rope would finally be cut from the pipe in the storage room. We waited with bated breath, as the new worker replaced the old step ladder, for the complaints to surface. Nothing ever happened. No pushing of tables or rearranging of items. Perhaps the rope was cut figuritively as well.
My mother would always threaten me with being placed in that room if I continued to be mischievous around the hotel. I remember grabbing a dolly lift from the dark eerie South D storage room as a boy and seeing the rope for the first time. It was a very old twine string and you can see the even cut at the tip of the extension. It wasn't the thick western rodeo rope I had imagined hanging in power. Instead this simple string taught me of how easy and uneventful your death can be. Moreover how a weightless string can steal the entire load of life from you. In this respect, the string taught me that I must pull the world behind me and not be dragged and die by my own lack of force.
Fact: Bryant was a short Irishman. He was 5 feet 4 inches tall. Perhaps a ladder in the small room was needed to assist his final fall. The Location of the hanging is no longer a storage room. It's now before the doorway of Room 123 (Also known to our personel to be haunted)