I recently went on a vacation/business trip, and what should have been fun and relaxing turned into a hotel nightmare.
The pictures online showed a cute bed & breakfast with all the charm and promise that one would hope to find in the sleepy coastal town of Monterey, CA — bonus points for being across the street from the convention center where I would be attending a conference. The room wasn’t cheap, but it did seem reasonable compared to the fancy hotels nearby. With no real hesitation, I booked it.
Standing in front of the “lobby” I started to get nervous. Where was the charming main house surrounded by quaint cottages? Next door to a smallish cabin was the real inn, a two-level motor court-style motel that had seen better days. The “concierge” handed me my room key and pointed to the back stairs. I ambled up with all my bags and was greeted with a smell that can only be described as crime scene bleach. There were no windows to let the reek out, only the door I had just come through. The room had been “upgraded” recently, but they forgot many details like the entire bathroom and a makeup mirror with two wall outlets that didn’t work.
The worst part, however, was a giant wooden horse head that loomed over the non-working fireplace. Lying in the lumpy bed trying to sleep that night, it stared nightmare-like directly at me. Did I complain to the staff? I mentioned the broken outlets, and they did leave a night light for me. But I paid my bill and left. What could I have said? That I would have preferred a deer or moose?