Sounds like there's trouble in Shangri-La
I guess the Health Department would like to see the Shangri-La Motel shut down, on account of it having dirty beds and all.
Isn't Shangri-La supposed to be a happy place?
Now, if that thought isn't enough to give you the shivers, consider that this is the motel where attempted copycat killer Veronica Lynn Compton lured a woman from the Cocoanut Grove (which is not a bad bar, in my opinion) and unsuccessfully attempted to strangle her and plant false evidence at the urging of convicted serial killer Kenneth Bianchi, otherwise known as the Hillside Strangler, back in 1980.
(Further distressing to me, upon googling a little bit of the Shangri-La, was the discovery that Kenneth Bianchi rented a house merely five blocks away from where my own home is.)
But that's not really what I'm interested in. I mean yeah, I am, but my culty mind control obsession is soooo 2009. Now I'm interested in motels.
Not motels the way we think of them now, being (usually) somewhat boring and clean, but Motels with a capital M for the MOTORING part of the MOtel. Motels like my parents and grandparents knew, at the height of the Route 66 craze. Googie motels with cantilevered awnings and kidney bean pools and concrete block fences in those lacy floral patterns.
Motels like this. Motels like I would see from the back seat of my parents car as we drove to visit my grandparents in Orange County, California. Especially motels like those surrounding Disneyland...
California may have had its Route 66 and Disneyland craze, but Washington had Old Highway 99. Old Highway 99 took a meander through downtown Bellingham back then, along Samish Way, down Holly Street, Prospect, Dupont and Elm. You can even take an historical photo tour, if you like.
And that's what brings us to the Shangri-La. And also, to other throwbacks of the time such as the Aloha, Mac's, Lion's Inn, and the Shamrock. Motels that today, you couldn't pay me to stay at. What a sad thing. These motels are a testament to the disappearing motoring culture of fifty years ago, but today are dens of iniquity and drug use and prostitution and ... worse.
Highway 99 was a boon to downtown Bellingham, maybe the way Route 66 was a boon to waysides through the Mohave Desert. When the Interstate was built, downtown merchants were angry. I-5 completely circumvents the heart of Bellingham.
I used to have this fantasy about Bed & Breakfasts. I'd think, wouldn't it be great to decorate up a house and cook and clean and garden all day? Wouldn't it be fun to make everything all pretty like for people to stay in on the weekend? Sometimes I still think this. In my dreams, by the way, money is no object. If I ever voice this opinion, Bill and Alexarc are quick to smash my bubble. How gross it is to clean up after people in their personal space, how I'd never ever be able to separate home from work, how I'd never get a day off, how I'd have all the same cash flow anxiety that I had in my last business. Oh, and how I could never rub enough nickles together to even begin. Way to go guys, thanks. It was just a dream!
But when Mac's put up a for sale sign, my daydream surged again. I thought, wouldn't it be awesome to get a falling down motel like that and fix it up - not modern, mind you, but restored. Wouldn't it be neat to have a place like that? Somewhere clean and comfy and safe and fun? Where you could go have dinner and drinks and then just walk back to your motel room without being afraid of stepping on a crack pipe? And now, Shangri-La is for sale, for just under a million bucks. For a million bucks, you too could own a shithole that the State of Washington is itching to obliterate.
Now before you think I'm over the top nuts, this has been done. And I think it has been done really, really well. Bellingham needs an Ace Hotel lite. A real Shangri-La!
Now, somebody take my brain child and make it happen. GO!
Isn't Shangri-La supposed to be a happy place?
Now, if that thought isn't enough to give you the shivers, consider that this is the motel where attempted copycat killer Veronica Lynn Compton lured a woman from the Cocoanut Grove (which is not a bad bar, in my opinion) and unsuccessfully attempted to strangle her and plant false evidence at the urging of convicted serial killer Kenneth Bianchi, otherwise known as the Hillside Strangler, back in 1980.
(Further distressing to me, upon googling a little bit of the Shangri-La, was the discovery that Kenneth Bianchi rented a house merely five blocks away from where my own home is.)
But that's not really what I'm interested in. I mean yeah, I am, but my culty mind control obsession is soooo 2009. Now I'm interested in motels.
Not motels the way we think of them now, being (usually) somewhat boring and clean, but Motels with a capital M for the MOTORING part of the MOtel. Motels like my parents and grandparents knew, at the height of the Route 66 craze. Googie motels with cantilevered awnings and kidney bean pools and concrete block fences in those lacy floral patterns.
Motels like this. Motels like I would see from the back seat of my parents car as we drove to visit my grandparents in Orange County, California. Especially motels like those surrounding Disneyland...
California may have had its Route 66 and Disneyland craze, but Washington had Old Highway 99. Old Highway 99 took a meander through downtown Bellingham back then, along Samish Way, down Holly Street, Prospect, Dupont and Elm. You can even take an historical photo tour, if you like.
And that's what brings us to the Shangri-La. And also, to other throwbacks of the time such as the Aloha, Mac's, Lion's Inn, and the Shamrock. Motels that today, you couldn't pay me to stay at. What a sad thing. These motels are a testament to the disappearing motoring culture of fifty years ago, but today are dens of iniquity and drug use and prostitution and ... worse.
Highway 99 was a boon to downtown Bellingham, maybe the way Route 66 was a boon to waysides through the Mohave Desert. When the Interstate was built, downtown merchants were angry. I-5 completely circumvents the heart of Bellingham.
I used to have this fantasy about Bed & Breakfasts. I'd think, wouldn't it be great to decorate up a house and cook and clean and garden all day? Wouldn't it be fun to make everything all pretty like for people to stay in on the weekend? Sometimes I still think this. In my dreams, by the way, money is no object. If I ever voice this opinion, Bill and Alexarc are quick to smash my bubble. How gross it is to clean up after people in their personal space, how I'd never ever be able to separate home from work, how I'd never get a day off, how I'd have all the same cash flow anxiety that I had in my last business. Oh, and how I could never rub enough nickles together to even begin. Way to go guys, thanks. It was just a dream!
But when Mac's put up a for sale sign, my daydream surged again. I thought, wouldn't it be awesome to get a falling down motel like that and fix it up - not modern, mind you, but restored. Wouldn't it be neat to have a place like that? Somewhere clean and comfy and safe and fun? Where you could go have dinner and drinks and then just walk back to your motel room without being afraid of stepping on a crack pipe? And now, Shangri-La is for sale, for just under a million bucks. For a million bucks, you too could own a shithole that the State of Washington is itching to obliterate.
Now before you think I'm over the top nuts, this has been done. And I think it has been done really, really well. Bellingham needs an Ace Hotel lite. A real Shangri-La!
Now, somebody take my brain child and make it happen. GO!