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)
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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New York
Minus one suitcase because the airline lost it, we checked in and went up to the room.
Decided to switch on the TV whilst unpacking, which was showing a current affairs program doing a secret camera exposé on how easy it is to blag your way past the maids into other peoples' rooms and nick their stuff. The reporter had no trouble at all getting past the completely indifferent maid. Nice and easy.
The room on the TV was oddly familiar. It eventually dawned that it was identical, in fact, to the room I was standing in. And then they named it.
Yup. My hotel. Just what you want to see on arrival.
As it happens, apart from them refusing to give me my suitcase when it arrived and me having to throw a major fit in the lobby to get them to hand it over, all was fine in that hotel. It wasn't until two weeks later in a nice five star hotel in Paris that I had stuff stolen from my room.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 11:07, 2 replies)
Minus one suitcase because the airline lost it, we checked in and went up to the room.
Decided to switch on the TV whilst unpacking, which was showing a current affairs program doing a secret camera exposé on how easy it is to blag your way past the maids into other peoples' rooms and nick their stuff. The reporter had no trouble at all getting past the completely indifferent maid. Nice and easy.
The room on the TV was oddly familiar. It eventually dawned that it was identical, in fact, to the room I was standing in. And then they named it.
Yup. My hotel. Just what you want to see on arrival.
As it happens, apart from them refusing to give me my suitcase when it arrived and me having to throw a major fit in the lobby to get them to hand it over, all was fine in that hotel. It wasn't until two weeks later in a nice five star hotel in Paris that I had stuff stolen from my room.
( , Mon 21 Jan 2008, 11:07, 2 replies)
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