Hell City

I used to think of tattooing as an interesting phenomenon. While I never really liked or understood the whole-body tattoo thing, I thought smaller tattoos could be cool or fun or something (as long as they were hide-able, too) and for a time I thought I might even like a small, discreet tattoo somewhere. I figured it was someone else’s business if they wanted to do that to themselves, not mine – but I’d chuckle when wondering if that person would feel the same way about that skull or snake forty years from now when they were a grandparent.

That changed on our vacation.

The second weekend of our vacation, we stayed at a very nice, historically significant resort (low summer rates!). It's a beautiful place, and it's design was Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired. My kids love this resort because of the pools and a water slide (disguised in a tower with a waterfall at the end of the pool). I liked it because it was the place always held up to me as the epitome of elegance and I have fond memories of it from my childhood: my father took us to Sunday brunch there on a handful of very special occasions, among other things. This was the third time we stayed there on a trip west. Love those summer rates.

As we drove into the resort we saw a sign that read “Hell City Tattoo” with a devil and an arrow on it. My husband and I looked at each other quizzically and wondered what the heck it was about. As I checked in, I noticed several very tattooed people in the lobby and figured it was a meeting or something. I was sure it would be fine. Little did I know the extent of the “meeting.”

But over the next several hours it became clear – and we became horrified. It was not just a meeting, but a full on, weekend long exposition and festival. There were hundreds of attendees. The ones I had seen in the lobby were the most reserved, it seemed.

By eleven that night, we had seen more tattoos with dark and obscene imagery that I could have imagined. We’d seen dozens of people with minimal clothing on in an effort to show off tattoos (and piercings). We’d seen many inebriated people. We’d experienced second-hand smoke (tobacco and illegal substabces) in the hall of our non-smoking wing. We’d heard yelling in the halls, and derogatory comments about non-festival attendees. These turned out not to be isolated incidents. I attempted to contact management for the first time that first night.

Even though I understand why the hotel accepted this group (revenue during the slower summer months in the scorching hot desert), this was not an appropriate group for this hotel, I feel. The parent company (Hilton) has plenty of properties that would be more appropriate for such a group – including properties closer to nightlife and closer to potential new clientele. The resort we were at purported to be family-friendly and tasteful – but this weekend was turning out to be most definitely neither of those things. Had I known in advance that this was happening, I would have changed hotels. There is no way to know from the hotel’s Web site what kinds of events are happening there (and I never dreamed it would be something like this), but from now on, it’s something I’ll check.

The next day, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to be there and was worried about what the kids would see. But the boys insisted they wanted to be near that pool and that slide. The people with tattoos were “weird” but they would ignore them, they said. I agreed, said we stayed, and I regret that.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t ignore them. They truly were everywhere. They were intimidating to the kids – especially the ones with facial tattoos. I told the kids not to stare, but there was no place to look that we didn’t get bombarded with “interesting” imagery. Then, of course, the tattoo expo attendees would make more comments about the non-attendees staring at them.

As a fairly tame example, one morning I went down to the café to get coffee. Sitting at one of the tables was a man (heavily tattooed, of course) wearing a tshirt with the following on the back: An exaggeratedly curvy female in a minidress leaning over. One hand is at her mouth covering and surprised “Oh!” look. Behind her on a stool is a male figure with his head under her skirt. It was 8AM and M wanted me to explain this to him.

Eventually, the kids didn’t even want to go to the pool. We went off grounds more than initially planned. I tried to make the best of everything.

Over the next day and half, I contacted security and asked for more coverage around our wing, especially around the smoking (I don't take any chances with C's lungs after his illness and with his asthma). I talked to the concierge. They considered it a “comfort” issue and said they had to “respect all our guests.” They seemed to be “respecting” one group of guests over and above the rest of the guests.

At this point, there were only 24 hours left on our vacation, and as it was Sunday, I figured most of the tattoo people would be gone that afternoon. I was trying to salvage what I could from the stay. That evening (at 7:00PM!) I saw housekeeping staff still trying to clean out trash, including cases upon cases of beer cans and liquor bottles from what had been attendee rooms.

I finally found one sympathetic ear on our last visit to the pool Monday morning (and there were already drunk attendee leftovers at the pool at 10AM!), one who indicated that it had been a tough weekend for staff. Some small bits of our stay (parking! woo!) were comped, but I left just disgusted.

I don’t think I am easily offended. I have a fairly warped sense of humor. But the sheer volume of obscene and disrespectful images and activity in this location did offend me – deeply. I was there to enjoy a lovely old resort with my family, and yet I couldn’t take my family out with anxiety over what they might see and hear.

I have since written a scathing letter to resort and Hilton management. While doing a little research for that letter, I learned that Hell City Tattoo didn’t make any effort to hide what they were. Their Web site and expo press talked about events at the expo as “diabolical mayhem” and there were plenty of references to partying. They had a kids section of the expo – where kids could get “coffin rides.” Seriously. The Web site also talked about the location of the expo as being an example of “mainstream acceptance” of their lifestyle.

I think everyone lost here. Hilton and the resort lost face in scheduling a group not appropriate to the property, and lost probable repeat customers (including me). Hell City Tattoos lost a lot of that potential acceptance by they way attendees (and organizers) acted during the events. Non-tattoo guests of the resort lost respect for both – and lost time in what should have been a relaxed visit.

So that experience has completely – and I mean completely – turned me off of tattooing. When I think about it, I am disgusted. Yes, it’s still someone else’s business, not mine, but I think it’s tacky. Period. Even if you argue that it was a few bad seeds and most people with tattoos aren’t like that (and I agree), I am just so totally turned off.

(Sorry, Jen.)

Maybe I'll soften over time, but for now, don't show me or talk about your tattoos. I'm not impressed.