Now I'm not being Gwyneth and saying you have to stay at the exclusive Chateau Prétentieux if you don't want to sleep on a bed of assorted pubes. Just do a little research, bring your own pillow and if you see jumping bugs, check out immediately.
Anyhoo, like last year, I'd like to highlight some of the more hilariously disgusting stories of filth submitted by those who lived it. Prepare to puke. Of note: there are three Days Inns on the list this year. Coincidence?
Body found, stoned doorman...YAY, welcome to NYC.
One was able to see through the glass just enough to observe a band of errant prostitutes, soliciting buisness on the front steps of the hotel from a group of equally degenerate drunkards.
This is the kind of place where at any time a pancake makeup-encrusted octogenerian with yellowed teeth, clad in a shabby silk bedcoat and moth-eaten feather boa can be expected to be seen wandering the halls muttering, "Mr. Demille, I'm ready for my close-up."
The front door had a paper sign for a party group meeting in the lounge. It appeared from the context it was a swingers group. Two couples we met later on the elevator seemed to confirm that.
Some people must live there? They had a big pot party and asked my son if he wanted some. Located in porn section. Nothing close by that looked safe. Would not recommend.
I really appreciated the "Hookers" being so kind and thoughtful as to hold the door for me, but I was too tired to take them up on the wonderful offers they had.
The bathroom offered an array of grossness starting with the pubes that were all over the floor. They really sweetened the pot for us with the 1-ply toilet paper and the jar of Vaseline. I still dont know what the heck that was all about. Housekeeping came up and cleaned with some unknown bloodbourne pathogens cleaner that made our eyes water all night.
I've never seen a bigger caterpillar turn up in a restaurant salad. They can't have washed the lettuce. Just as bad: the waiter's complete lack of surprise when he was shown the caterpillar. And filthy carpets are one thing, but have you ever seen a carpet that was literally sticky? I don't want to think about how much non-cleaning it took for it to reach that state.
To top it all off, about 30 minutes after I got into bed, the room started vibrating as if someone was drilling into the floor beneath us, and this continued on and off for the rest of the night. So as it turned out, Mr. and Mrs. Sex-a-thon next door weren't the only ones the earth shook for that night.
I want to see some reviews of places like this on GOOP. No more of this Ritz and Plaza business—I want first person write-ups of places called "Ramada Inn and Convention Center of Aberdeen, South Dakota". Could you imagine if Gwynnie found jizz on her sheet at a hotel? That's some GOOP she wouldn't want anything to do with—HAHAHAHAHA! I'm funny!