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This is a question Hotel Splendido

Enzyme writes, "what about awful hotels, B&Bs, or friends' houses where you've had no choice but to stay the night?"

What, the place in Oxford that had the mattresses encased in plastic (crinkly noises all night), the place in Blackpool where the night manager would drum to the music on his ipod on the corridor walls as he did his rounds, or the place in Lancaster where the two single beds(!) collapsed through metal fatigue?

Add your crappy hotel experiences to our list.

(, Thu 17 Jan 2008, 16:05)
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Henri IV classic French Hospitality
Many moons ago on what was to be our last family vacation ever my father had gotten a tip off about a cheap place to stay in the centre of Paris. No phones or internet involved my Da decided to write to them and make the reservation. The taxi driver in Paris had no idea where it was, not very promising...

On arrival there was one of those plaques on the wall, you know the kind that display how many stars the hotel had recieved, this one was conspicuously missing it's stars. Place was a hell hole, rats in the walls, cockroaches everywhere, the stairwell was a deathtrap. Breakfast consisted on a 4 inch piece of stale baguette with no butter, attempts to gain a crossiant were met with derisive laughter. Ohh and the cleaning staff were most insistent on doing thier job even if you were sleeping in the bed while they were making it.

However in fact my father was the cause of most of the disturbance during our stay; on every second floor there was a bathroom just set back from the stairwell. My father got up in the middle of the night to use said facilities not realising there was no bathroom on his floor. In the darkness he couldn't find his shoes so put on some slippers he found and off he tramped to the bathroom in his boxers and darkness.

Alas when he opened the door and fumbled around for a light switch or a urinal the lights suddenly came up as a French guy sat bolt upright in bed and started screaming probably thinking he was about to raped by a transvestite, in the darkness my Dad had not put on slippers but a pair of my mums red mules. "Shit sorry" my dad screamed back as he clip-clopped his way as fast as he could back to his room. followed by shouts in french.

That place was hell, after the first two hours it was obvious why they had no stars...
(, Fri 18 Jan 2008, 19:06, Reply)

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