I Was Incorrigible

Doorman at the Palace Hotel, San Francisco, March 1989

…even when I was using a film camera.

I lusted after this gentleman on the daily since I walked past the hotel on my way home from work.  He was always very friendly—bordering on flirtatious—so I finally got up the nerve to ask him out. He ever-so-politely turned me down.

I suppose I should also add the Palace Hotel to the list of venues from my previous post, although I never really frequented the place. It was one of those locales that had a reputation for a very low tolerance for menz gettin' busy in the restrooms, and arrests were commonplace. I happened to stop in for legitimate reasons once, and immediately understood why it was so popular—and so risky. The floors were a mirror-finish marble, and you could easily see everything going on in the stalls.