Nob Hill Inn, the Device, and Dog Urine

it has all been solved with a bit of friendly conversation regarding terrorists, drug addicts, and-- of course-- dog urine. oh the power of a dear john; the power of talking with strangers.

it wasn't long before merhnaz, the owner of the nob hill inn, sent me a response to my post about the ear-snapping frequency of the boutique hotel. at first, the story went that it could not possibly be the nob hill inn and that it must be a neighboring establishment. but after pretending to have spoken with every neighbor, merhnaz invited me over to have a look-see in person.

i'm not going to lie: i was very upset with how politely the issue was handled-- there were no email outbursts or unfair remarks. in fact, in one letter, i was referred to as having "amazing wit" and being "quite entertaining."

when you're stuck in an office with no connection to humankind outside of email, you grow to root for chaotic responses.

nonetheless, i couldn't get over how absolutely charming the responses were and made it a point to visit on my weekend.

"i'm looking for... merhnaz?" i said, "i'm not sure how to pronounce his name."

"ohhh," a lady said with wide eyes, "it's you. the writer. assumptions are bad ones!"

"you're merhnaz!" i laughed, "i'm sorry. i think i referred to you as a 'sir' in my email and you didn't correct me. my apologies."

it was an awkward start, but who would've known with a name so vague?

we went outside and i was able to point out the device that squealed and she insisted she couldn't hear a thing. travis confirmed the sound and so did passing tourists-- which was helpful considering how crazy i can appear when the wind catches my hair and coffee is in my belly.

the story goes that the device exists because the dog-owners let their "companions" pee all over the building and sometimes into open windows-- which, conveniently enough, lead to kitchens inside.

merhnaz explained that she'd thought i was a dog-owner and was ready for battle after reading my post. apparently all the dog-lovers of huntington park are in some sort of anti-nob hill inn clan, arguing that they should be allowed to let their dogs pee where ever they please and that it is not fair to be yelled at for any of it.

i'm going to have to side with merhnaz on this one. i watched a pup literally piss into an open window. that's simply uncool.

i offered to stand in front of her hotel, wearing a suit, and yelling at careless urinators. she laughed-- but i think she was slightly interested in the idea.

"why can't people just be people," she said, " you and me, we're talking. why can't the dog people talk to me? why can't we settle this like humans?"

"i agree," i said, "and when i received your emails i knew you were someone i had to meet and talk with. and i'm glad i did."

"it's strange," she said, "you can't talk to anyone. they all think you're something before you start talking. like me, i am iranian-- so i'm a terrorist: look out!"

"of course," i said, "and i'm a long-haired drug addict."

it was a fun conversation and in the end, she agreed to turn the device off (and she actually has)-- but more than that, she offered to comp me for a night's stay at her inn. and invited me to continue emailing her if i get bored at work.

it's a great world when you take a moment to experience it.

today, i yelled at a dog on the way by her inn.