Wyndham? Damn near killed ‘em

Last week I piled the wife, daughter and the son-in-law into my fourteen-year old Lexus ES350—really just a Camry dressed up for Saturday night—and took them down the coast to San Diego, where we were meeting up with my son and his fiancé to go see Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band.

I know, I’m as shocked as you are.

They were playing at Pechanga Arena, a venue I was unfamiliar with and had never been to, even though it’s been there over sixty years under various names.

Since it was just an overnight trip, and arena shows are notorious for hellish parking and hours-long traffic jams leaving afterwards, I used my big brain and thought the best thing to do would be to book us three rooms at a nearby hotel, where we’d be able to leave the car and just walk to the show.

The hotel I found, the Wyndham Garden San Diego Sea World (the arena is right behind the orca prison) was literally across the street from the arena.

Being the hotel snob I am, after perusing their website and seeing that the rooms and the hotel in general—while not up to the usual Hotel Del Coronado/Fairmont San Francisco/Essex House New York/Four Seasons Seattle accommodations I’ve grown accustomed to—looked decent enough for an inexpensive overnight stay.

But as we all know, when it comes to looks, as in used cars and the opposite sex at closing time, they can be deceiving.

Most arenas are not located in the better part of town, and Pechanga is no exception.

When we pulled into the hotel, which come to find out was more of a motel, it looked decent enough. The woman at the front desk who checked us in was pleasant, and directed us to the building our rooms were in. On the way over, we noticed several extremely sketchy characters not just around the property, but staying there.

It reminded me of the Crystal Palace on Breaking Bad, except without the charm. Although if they had room service, like the Crystal Palace, I was pretty sure meth was on the menu.

We went into the room and, as they say, it was nothing like the brochure. Dingy, dirty and with a prison bathroom, there was only one window with a transparent shade out to the upstairs walkway. I imagine that was to make it easier for the addicts to decide what to steal.

All I could think was Gitmo must’ve been booked for the weekend.

If I’d been a little more thorough in my research, and the only reason I wasn't was because I was pretty danged pleased I'd found a place within walking distance, I would’ve seen the pictures of cockroaches in the rooms and Wyndham’s less than stellar ratings on Yelp.

That would’ve been the first clue.

I told everyone not to put anything on the beds, we were getting out of there.

Speaking with the woman who’d checked us in not fifteen minutes earlier, I let her know the rooms weren’t what we expected and we weren’t going to stay. Without skipping a beat, she said no problem and gave us a full refund. Which told me this probably was a daily request.

Fortunately, the Hyatt Regency Mission Bay Spa & Marina had rooms available and we wound up staying there. Instead of across the street, it was a six-minute Uber ride to the arena, and a million miles away from the Wyndham.

In a word, the Hyatt was heaven. I can’t say enough good things about it. And I believe in my heart that their staff is as great and the accommodations as comfortable, clean and pleasant as they were all the time—not just because we’d made our escape from the bowels of hell.

I wasn't trapped in the Wyndham cell long enough to notice if they had movie channels on the TV. If they do, I'd recommend watching Escape From Alcatraz.

Not for the movie. For the plan.

Shamu's tale

We just returned home from our annual week at the Hotel Del Coronado. It was our twelfth year, and in almost all of our past stays one of the most anticipated parts has been our visit to Sea World. The visit is usually driven by me, because I love the Shamu show and getting splashed.

What can I say? I'm easy that way.

But this year, we didn't go to Sea World. It was on the itinerary, until we decided to see the extraordinary documentary Blackfish. It's about the many trainers that've been injured or killed by these whales, and particularly Dawn Brancheau who was killed a few years ago at the park in Orlando by Tilikum, an orca that had already killed two people before it came to the park. Blackfish also speaks to the conditions that make the whales so aggressive: small tanks, ripped from their families, attacked by other whales in their pens, lack of food and more.

I won't run the litany of excellent points this film makes, but I will say this: it doesn't take a documentary to know that these beautiful creatures, who once had the run of the ocean and swam over a hundred miles a day are not enjoying the same quality of life in the small (for them) tanks at Sea World's Shamu Stadium.

Understandably, we don't see any of the mistreatment from the stands. Instead, we see the show, take the pictures then buy the stuffed Shamu dolls. I'm as guilty as the next person.

I find myself at a crossroads, because my feeling is that, like zoos, if you can't see these animals in person you can't get a genuine understanding of their beauty and grandeur. In my way of thinking, contradictory though it may be, the ability to see them in captivity makes me want to protect them more in the wild. That's the effect it has on me. So much so, I even wrote about it days after Dawn Brancheau's tragic death.

I don't know if I'll ever visit Sea World again. But I do know after seeing Blackfish, my involvement and contributions to organizations who protect and preserve these animals will be an ongoing commitment.

Our annual family trip to Sea World will continue. Here's why.

It's beyond sad what happened to Orlando Sea World trainer Dawn Brancheau. This week she was killed by a 12,000-pound orca whale like the ones she'd worked with for over 13 years - one of the many who play Shamu. Apparently already in an agitated state earlier that day, he leapt out of the water, grabbed her by her ponytail, and dragged her underwater, violently shaking the life out of her and drowning her.

Without a doubt, lots of questions need to be answered. For starters, if the whale was already agitated, why was he made to do a show?

Animal rights activists have already seized this tragedy, banging the drum about how orcas shouldn't be in small tanks for the pleasure of the paying public, and should in fact be frolicking free in the ocean where they belong.

The thing is, they're not wrong. But there's another side to the argument for the existence of parks like Sea World. And internationally recognized zoos like the San Diego Zoo. And camouflaged zoos like Wild Animal Park.

Without them, people would care even less.

Every year, our family vacations in Coronado, and as part of the trip, we always spend one day at Sea World. Every year, we are in awe at the grandeur, intelligence and beauty of these animals. Every year, we are reminded we should be doing more to preserve them. And every year, as a result, we contribute to the cause.

It's a unique and emotional appreciation you can't get from pictures. Or television. In fact, you can't get it anywhere else except by seeing them in person. Or seeing them next to a person, like in the above video.

I'm not naive. I know these animals are on display and being put through their paces for profit. But I also know that the cause for their preservation and survival profits much more than it ever would by the public having access to them in a way they couldn't if these parks didn't exist.

While Ms. Brancheau's death is sad enough on its own, the tragedy is being compounded by animal rights groups politicizing it. Don't get me wrong - I think some of these groups are right on many points. In fact I've contributed to a few of them as well.

But contrary to what they're saying, I believe that while orca whales are black and white, the issue of closing Sea World is not.