Shit hotel experiences

[BritishHobo]

I am awake. I have been awake for three hours. I am in a shit hotel in Blackpool. A woman escorted her friend to the room next to ours at midnight, quite loudly, which was not a big deal. What was a big deal however was when she came bounding up the stairs at half two belting Be Our Guest at the top of her voice and then proceeding to shout and scream in the room for half an hour until I called the manager who turned out to already be outside the room and proceeded to bollock them until they shut the fuck up. Which they have done ever since. They have been deathly quiet. I was in real danger of getting a good night's sleep. So thank GOD for the nice man who started banging on our door and their door at 4a-fucking-m and refusing to say who he was on-and-off for FUCKING AGES before loudly shouting 'CHECK-OUT NOW PLEASE' as if he was the manager, which he fucking actually may have been, because when I rang the manager again, the manager said he would come upstairs, but nobody came upstairs, and the man stopped as soon as I made the phone call, and they had the same voice.

Anyway, kill me please.

[Salles]

As soon as I saw the thread title I thought of my shit experience in Blackpool (in the words of Stewart Lee, "A collapsed Soviet state."

I found a pie under the bed.

[Emma Raducanu]

We stayed in a standard B&B in Harrogate and arrived late enough that we needed to put the baby to bed. Meanwhile, I went into town to get us some food as we hadn't eaten all day. I got us some takeaway food and brought it back. The landlord told us that we could use the lounge to eat but not the bedroom. So, I went upstairs to tell my partner that there was food in the lounge and that I'd look after the baby. She went down only to find a Father and teenage son demolishing our food. I mean what the fuck. Never ate that day.

[maett]

Travelling around South Korea I ended up in Pohang,  a kind of Korean version of Sheffield but on the coast. Checked into a hotel only to discover that the basement was a set of private kareoke rooms that only started up at 1am. Went on until 6am i could hear the drunken wailing/deathroes quite clearly on the 4th floor.

[Timothy]

Hotel in London. Hotel had a garden next to our room. People of the room next to us decided it would be a great idea to do drugs in the garden. Totally started tripping, shouting, then went back to their rooms to smoke weed. Manager had no idea what to do about it. Shared bathroom and the guy locked himself in.

Then they knocked on our door at 4am asking for a phone charger.

[buttgammon]

Shithole in New York that clearly hadn't been decorated since the eighties. Everything was covered in an inch of dust, the TV looked like something from an antiques shop, and it smelled like the people in the room next door were hotboxing in there for the whole time we were there. To cap it all off, it was -18 outside, the heating didn't work and when we asked reception for more bedding and blankets, they called back twenty-four hours later to say they had run out.

On the plus side, it wasn't in Blackpool.

[steveh]

The Paris hotel where the bed collapsed in the night but they wouldn't let us change rooms because it was their policy to only allow room changes if you hadn't touched anything. It also did that classic cheap French hotel thing of having timers on the staircase lights set too short to make it to your floor in time.

The night in a Hong Kong hotel where I got food poisoning, my girlfriend had agonising period pains and being a cheap conversion from an office block to a 'boutique' hotel the walls were paper thin and for much of the night there was a drunken mahjong game going on in the next room. Somehow I made it to the airport and onto a plane the next day.

The hotel in the south of Taiwan where my friend told me that at 8pm by the kid-filled pool they would have 'entertainment', which turned out to be a stripper. Being a foreigner and sitting near the back I imagined I was unlikely to attract attention but of course she made a beeline for me. The sheer amount of sweat dripping off her in the 30C heat made the experience especially icky. Meanwhile my friend sat there watching like she considered it an everyday occurrence, but then this is the country that invented funeral strippers.

Then there were some work colleagues who missed the last train back from Brighton to London and got a room in the nearest rundown hotel, to be awoken at 3am by two scary guys opening the door with their own key. They told them they had forgotten something then dived under the bed to retrieve a stash of Class As before disappearing again.

[flotemysost]

I found a pie under the bed.

That sounds pretty great tbh

[BlodwynPig]

Not overly shit but creepiest.

We'd been travelling through Northern Croatia staying at places we found on the way. Our last night saw us travelling through a small town a few miles from Zagreb. We found a huge gothic hotel on the main road that had seen better days, but since a bypass had been built for travellers to the capital, did not see much business.

Inside it was very gloomy and the quiet was eerie. We checked in and were given a room on the first floor. The shadows were cloying, sucking all the light from the place.

We decided to go out and eat. Upon emerging from the place we saw a dead black cat on the road, its head crushed by the wheels of the occasional vehicle.

The bar we ate at was bumpkin glorious and the food like an 80s kiddy pasta.

When we got back to the hotel my girlfriend said she wanted to move room as the noise from the traffic on the front street would keep her awake. There was no traffic.

We got given a new room at the back of the hotel along labyrinthian corridors. The room itself was musty and old, like a disused Norfolk antique shop burgled of everything but blankets and a wonky dresser. The view from the window was of a moonlit graveyard.

I didnt sleep. A cruel wind blew inside and out, doors banging, the windows rattling. A heavy sense if dread lay upon me and my restless partner.

Daytime arrived with great relief and we went downstairs to eat. A solitary table in the centre of a vast ballroom told the story that we'd spent the night absolutely alone in this gigantic mansion of fear.

[Attila]

Some of the worst have been so only because I was travelling with my ex, especially from the era in which he was going full-blown nuts and abusive.

Meanwhile, of the more recent fun times -- few years back I went along on the semester field trip with my colleague, as they had an overload of students and needed like one responsible adult* per five students or some such. Anyway, the trip was to Paris, and she claimed she knew the city well, where to get budget accommodations, &c. She put us in a hostel about 100 yards from the Gare du Nord; one of the students was mugged between the time of leaving the Eurostar train and walking out of the railway station. So not an auspicious start to the trip.

I've never been a fan of hostels, and this one sadly did not improve my opinion of them. All night long, randos beating on the door playing ding dong ditch. Once you got past being startled everytime someone beat on your door, it seemed like a pretty quiet place -- until about 11pm when the disco in the ground floor cafe cranked up. 11pm til 3am every night. We were up on like the 6th floor, but it was horrendous because the hostel was built like a square letter O, so all of the wings of the building acted like sound-chimney for the nightly music fest/comedy act/karoake.

I bought one of these, however, and I have not had issues at any B & B or hostel (since I keep doing our field trip module) since:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Lectrofan-Micro-Wireless-Machine-Bluetooth-White/dp/B01LBVLAFK/ref=sr_1_5?ie=UTF8&qid=1537710692&sr=8-5&keywords=lectrofan+white+noise+machine

At least with noise, anyway...(the story of the awful post-grad student who came on that Paris trip with us is less a 'shit hotel experience' and more 'why did we bring this guy along, again?' story. Succinctly: he refused to eat anything that wasn't chips or fizzy drinks because he didn't like any of the food in Paris and insisted that we chaperones only eat at McDonalds -- when we said 'Hell no!' and told him to go on his own, he wouldn't because, surprise, he'd lied about being able to speak and understand French. It went downhill from there.)




*Still a mystery why they asked me.

[maett]

Not overly shit but creepiest.

We'd been travelling through Northern Croatia staying at places we found on the way. Our last night saw us travelling through a small town a few miles from Zagreb. We found a huge gothic hotel on the main road that had seen better days, but since a bypass had been built for travellers to the capital, did not see much business.

Inside it was very gloomy and the quiet was eerie. We checked in and were given a room on the first floor. The shadows were cloying, sucking all the light from the place.

We decided to go out and eat. Upon emerging from the place we saw a dead black cat on the road, its head crushed by the wheels of the occasional vehicle.

We got given a new room at the back of the hotel along labyrinthian corridors. The room itself was musty and old, like a disused Norfolk antique shop burgled of everything but blankets and a wonky dresser. The view from the window was of a moonlit graveyard.

A cruel wind blew inside and out, doors banging, the windows rattling.

A solitary table in the centre of a vast ballroom told the story that we'd spent the night absolutely alone in this gigantic mansion of fear.

Sounds great would love to read the online reviews.

[Sebastian Cobb]

Spent a week in the Heathrow T5 Travelodge overseeing site acceptance testing on some hydrocarbon accounting software for a customer in Staines.

If that weren't bad enough my room was damp and smelled of wet dog and no amount of fucking about with the air conditioning unit would fix it. The hotel had a bar, but it resembled a canteen as it was also where food/breakfast was served. It was always full of site lads which was fine, they weren't loud or a pain or anything. So most of the time I spent my evenings getting half cut while reading Homage to Catalonia. I also caught a bastard cold that left me feeling dazed the whole time, I'd blame it on the Travelodge but my colleague who went down the week before caught a cold and the customer I was sat with was necking a load of cough sweets, so I'm not convinced I can lay the blame squarely on them.

On one evening midweek I decided to ask google where the nearest pub was, and it showed me a nice looking Greene King pub about 10 minutes walk away. 'Sweet, that's tonight sorted then' I thought. Only when I got there I found the thing didn't have a roof.

[Pearly-Dewdrops Drops]

a Father

That food was just resting in his mouth

[DrGreggles]

B&B in Leicester

- Checked in
- Went to room
- Opened a drawer
- Found a half-eaten kebab and chips
- Checked out

[dex]

Vallidolid, Mexico.

Stayed in a small room in a bank of rooms where the walls didn't cover the entirety of floor to ceiling (so there was a 4ft gap at the top if that makes sense).

As a result the cunts congregated in the kitchen area with no awareness or consideration for the other guests made all sorts of noise in the small hours that kept everyone awake for most of the night. Out of sheer frustration I bellowed to them to shut the fuck up and in the end, to be fair they did.

Fucked off somewhere else in the morning though.

[Sebastian Cobb]

When I was in university halls I leaned out the window for some reason, and when I was coming back through I looked down and noticed there was something behind the radiator. I dropped a cd case down there to free it. It was a pair of y-fronts that looked like they'd been used to strain tea.

I hung them on the door of my slightly neurotic cleanliness obsessed neighbour.

[Buelligan]

Terribly tired, riding across Europe in the rain, late to catch my ferry at Santander, eventually decided I could go no further without passing out so went to the next hotel.  The Hotel Maria Cristina in San Sebastian. 

The footman, he was dressed like a footman, not a doorman or porter, carried my fly and oil-stained rucksack up to the room in a reluctant white-gloved hand but they did let me park my lovely motorcycle in a lobby for safety, which I thought was above and beyond any duty they may have felt.  Marble bath, gold phone in the loo (I am not even lying), pretty swish and not cheap at all.  But could I sleep?  Could I, fuck.

No, no I could not sleep at all, because I'd drunk about twenty motorway espressos that afternoon, trying to keep myself awake.  That was fucking awful and ate the last of my funds which meant no food for the next day or the 24 hour crossing.

Also stayed in a hotel in Amsterdam that I swear was owned/run by a gangster or terrorist on the lam.  He loved chatting and would spend long hours telling me the details of his plans to burn his enemies out of their houses and businesses and kill and eat their children (parts of their children).  The hotel itself was fine and they had builder's tea, Marmite and soda bread, so can't complain.

[Neomod]

Seedy little B&B in Vienna owned by an ole' racist bitch.

[Sebastian Cobb]

The most dilapidated place I stayed was a resort in Malta. From the outside it looked great but inside it was knackered. Over the bath was the remnants of an old electric water heater with the electrics and pipes cut. An odd decision I throught because you'd think hundreds of those things would be worth a fair bit in copper. Anyway, the new heating was presumably from solar on the roof, they certainly didn't have a circulation loop like nearly every civilised hotel, nor did they have thermostatic taps, this meant your showers just kept slowly getting hotter.

The pool house was full of brits taking advantage of full board booze, which was rationed out in half pint plastic glasses, two per person. It wouldn't surprise me if they never left the hotel.

Some pubs were full of holidaymakers, and some were full of awful ex-pats. In one of them me and a mate got chatting to a mother and daughter couple, the mother was awful. When we started chatting to her daughter (early 20's, we were mid/late 20's) she exclaimed 'usually it's me they fancy!'. She ended up copping off with some smashed guy about our age. I saw him the next day hungover as fuck counting a fistful of euros to pay for his breakfast recovery pint.

My mate got his wallet pickpocketed, possibly by the people hanging around the 'gentleman's club' that was almost certainly a brothel.

I wouldn't normally bother but it was free. I'd leant a mate a not insignificant amount of money to do a job for a cut of the profit when it arrived. The job fell through, I got my money back but this was a thank you gift he'd got cheap off a travel agent mate.

[Mink]

Got scabies in a Rhine residence in Düsseldorf

[Norton Canes]

Think I might have mentioned this on CaB already but we stayed at a Travelodge in Bath (or was it York?) for a night, myself, Mrs Canes and the kids, who would have been about 12 and 15 at the time. Not the most sumptuous of rooms but everything was OK and we turned in for the night after an exhausting few hours enjoying the sights of York (or Bath).

Then, at about two in the morning, we were woken by the couple in the next room indulging in what I can only describe as the loudest and most brutal sexual intercourse I have ever heard. They were thundering away like a jackhammer and I guess they must have been doing it up against the dividing wall because the flimsy construction was shuddering so much we expected them to come crashing through at any moment. By some miracle the kids were sleeping through this (or if they weren't, they didn't let on) but after about fifteen minutes we decided it would surely rouse them eventually, so we decided it was time to inform the night porter. I didn't speak to him on the telephone in case the conjugating couple abated for a second and heard me complain, so I tiptoed past their door and headed for reception. Yes, said the guy at the desk, he would come up and have a word. No problem. Reassured I returned to our room, where the lovebirds next door were still (and here I must confess to feeling some admiration for the guy's stamina) creating an unholy tumult. 

A few minutes later we heard footsteps along the corridor and a knock on their door, followed by several more as they were clearly preoccupied. Eventually they ceased their carnal clamour and one of them answered. "Sorry", we heard the porter say, "Could you please keep the noise down? It's just that the guests next door in room [OUR ROOM NUMBER] have complained."

The fuck? Mrs Canes and I stared at each other in disbelief. Here was a bestial male, most likely ripped to the tits on a dozen different drugs, now probably enraged because his savage sex session had been interrupted and possessed of a bloodthirsty desire for revenge. On us. I had to think quickly. In seconds he could be battering through our door in an attempt to pulverise us all. There was nothing to hand I could use as a weapon so I frantically scoured the room for anything I could use and in my petrified, panic-stricken state the only thing I could think of doing was to boil the kettle. Yes. Surely the prospect of a face-full of scolding water would keep him at bay. For a tense couple of minutes we stood there, awaiting the fateful opening of his door, while the water slowly, Jesus so slowly reached boiling point. Then the kettle switch snapped up and in a flash I was standing behind the door with it in my hands. I stood there for a whole twenty minutes in agonizing silence, expecting every moment to be our last. It was only when I realised that the water had probably become luke-warm that I suggested he might just perhaps have had his partner bring him to satisfaction with a minimum of fuss, and collapsed. Tentatively we returned to bed and fell asleep ourselves.

At about five in the morning they started up again, if anything more tempestuously. This time we simply hoped the kids would once again stay asleep, and let them enjoy their moment. 

[Sebastian Cobb]

Got scabies in a Rhine residence in Düsseldorf

[tag]lost hmhb track discovered[/tag]

[Sebastian Cobb]

Think I might have mentioned this on CaB already but we stayed at a Travelodge in Bath (or was it York?) for a night, myself, Mrs Canes and the kids, who would have been about 12 and 15 at the time. Not the most sumptuous of rooms but everything was OK and we turned in for the night after an exhausting few hours enjoying the sights of York (or Bath).

Then, at about two in the morning, we were woken by the couple in the next room indulging in what I can only describe as the loudest and most brutal sexual intercourse I have ever heard. They were thundering away like a jackhammer and I guess they must have been doing it up against the dividing wall because the flimsy construction was shuddering so much we expected them to come crashing through at any moment. By some miracle the kids were sleeping through this (or if they weren't, they didn't let on) but after about fifteen minutes we decided it would surely rouse them eventually, so we decided it was time to inform the night porter. I didn't speak to him on the telephone in case the conjugating couple abated for a second and heard me complain, so I tiptoed past their door and headed for reception. Yes, said the guy at the desk, he would come up and have a word. No problem. Reassured I returned to our room, where the lovebirds next door were still (and here I must confess to feeling some admiration for the guy's stamina) creating an unholy tumult. 

A few minutes later we heard footsteps along the corridor and a knock on their door, followed by several more as they were clearly preoccupied. Eventually they ceased their carnal clamour and one of them answered. "Sorry", we heard the porter say, "Could you please keep the noise down? It's just that the guests next door in room [OUR ROOM NUMBER] have complained."

The fuck? Mrs Canes and I stared at each other in disbelief. Here was a bestial male, most likely ripped to the tits on a dozen different drugs, now probably enraged because his savage sex session had been interrupted and possessed of a bloodthirsty desire for revenge. On us. I had to think quickly. In seconds he could be battering through our door in an attempt to pulverise us all. There was nothing to hand I could use as a weapon so I frantically scoured the room for anything I could use and in my petrified, panic-stricken state the only thing I could think of doing was to boil the kettle. Yes. Surely the prospect of a face-full of scolding water would keep him at bay. For a tense couple of minutes we stood there, awaiting the fateful opening of his door, while the water slowly, Jesus so slowly reached boiling point. Then the kettle switch snapped up and in a flash I was standing behind the door with it in my hands. I stood there for a whole twenty minutes in agonizing silence, expecting every moment to be our last. It was only when I realised that the water had probably become luke-warm that I suggested he might just perhaps have had his partner bring him to satisfaction with a minimum of fuss, and collapsed. Tentatively we returned to bed and fell asleep ourselves.

At about five in the morning they started up again, if anything more tempestuously. This time we simply hoped the kids would once again stay asleep, and let them enjoy their moment.

I can relate to this. If by 'relate' you mean 'got put in the disabled room in a travelodge and accidentally rammed your laptop into the panic alarm while trying to get a decent WiFi signal to aid a mediocre wank'.

[Small Man Big Horse]

- Found a half-eaten kebab and chips

That sounds pretty great tbh

[dr beat]

Once I stayed for a while in a sort of Travelodge place half way between London and Norwich. Tried to get on with the staff but they were a bit stand offish except for this Geordie guy who said he'd been in the army.  Hosted some Irish blokes for breakfast. Dunno what happened to Sue Cook.  Room service *awful* and cable tv very restricted.

[Butchers Blind]

Years back, owing to getting the dates of travel wrong I ended up having to book one night in a B&B in Dover.  It was pleasant enough, fresh linen, clean bathroom and a tv in the room.  Having decided to pop out and get a takeaway for the evening I was cornered by the landlady of the place.  She asked if everything was ok and then decided this was the right time to tell me her entire life story of how her parents were divorced when she was a little girl, how she was sexually abused by her step-dad until the age of 12, how she had two abortions in her teenage years due to abusive relationships, her drug problems, her two failed marriages, how she was now in a loveless marriage with the owner of the B&B and giving me complete list of her medications.  How do you answer all that?  I asked if she knew where the nearest chippy was and left. 

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

The Tisza Sport hotel, Szeged, is/was a true fuckup of the ages



The locks to the rooms were all bust and virtually hanging off, the shower didn't work properly, the stairwells had piles upon piles of dead wasps - hundreds of them. The breakfast was easily the worst thing I've seen put on for human consumption, the crowning glory being a pallid smoked sausage almost grey, bobbing solemnly in its brine-filled trough like an unflushable turd.

There was no ventilation and my friend woke up in the middle of the night having a panic attack, which was entirely reasonable in the circumstances.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

https://goo.gl/maps/XfQP6Maohn52

I stayed at this hostel in 2016 in Wroclaw after a previous booking fell through. Although I was on a budget, this still ended up relatively expensive, reinforced by the ludicrously cheap and fantastic stay at the very nice Kamienica Pod Aniolami in September this year.

The problems? Well, it was certainly the coldest, starkest hostel operation I've been to, more akin to prison cell/barracks if anything. It was set in an echoey tower blocks so whenever anyone on the entire floor opened and closed the door it was like it was slamming directly next to you. This happened a lot because there was some goth festival on nearby and two coachloads of cunts descended and it took until 3.30 or so until they'd decided to go to bed.

I definitely got two of the worst nights sleep in this place.

(Translated by Google) Near the center and prices about. Rooms from the times of deep PRL, stinks of cigarettes and fungus, dirty walls, no bulbs. The silence of the night in this object does not apply and the room from 6 am begins to tarabanić so sleeping there is no :) Bathroom is a misunderstanding. Someone who invented this shower system has something with his head

Yes, I would agree.

[Shoulders?-Stomach!]

For the record I must say that these are very much the exceptions, I'm nearly always satisfied or very pleasantly surprised by standards of apartments and hostels wherever I go, and make a point of stating so because of the amount of prejudice I still encounter from people who haven't stayed in hostels/or ever been east of Italy.

[Nice Relaxing Poo]

Fuck loads over the years:


Tam O'shanter in Las Vegas- The kind of place that people book for an hour with a hooker. Fag burn holes in the curtains and on the counterpain, the tap water appeared to have sand in it.

Blackpool, some nameless guest house- Was there for a stag do, just fucking depressing, badly fitted out and full of complete cunts which I have no doubt we should be considered part of.

Backpackers Kings Cross- Was staying there while I looked for a room after moving over from a year working in Australia. A shit landfill indie band from Leicester called The Yarbles were staying in my 15 bed dorm, down for a photo shoot with a music mag. Cue just constant fucking chaos with people coming and going and arguments happening non stop until 5 in the morning. They failed to make it as a band and I for one am fucking glad.

Jarvis Hotel Crewe- Was there whilst attending a training course for 3 weeks. Half of the rooms were last refurbished in the 70s or something so it was pot luck whether you were given a brown painted shit pit or something nicer at the start of each week.


A hotel above a pub in Sheffield edit: It was called The Harley- Was staying there because everywhere else was booked and we had a gig to go to. They had Djs until 3 in the morning and I was directly above the dancefloor. Even though I was smashed from the gig, I still woke about 1 and was kept up by some doof doof dance music for 2 hours. Room was quite shit too but it was cheap so hey ho and also the breakfast was splendid. Not too bad really apart from that fucking music until 3.