The Bed That Told a Thousand Stories (and None Were Mine)
Let me paint you a picture: I arrive at the hotel, weary from my travels, dreaming of a soft, clean bed to collapse into. What do I find? A treasure trove of āmemoriesā from guests past. Imagine my surprise when I pull back the covers to discover not one, but *many* dirty used tissues delicately tucked in, as if the bed was thoughtfully prepared by a germophobe with a dark sense of humor.
And oh, the body hair! A single strand wouldāve been one thing, but this was a *family reunion* of hairsālike the bed had hosted a sleepover. To top it off, the sheets felt like theyād doubled as the local beach, sprinkled generously with a fine layer of sand. Nothing like exfoliating your skin while you sleep, am I right?
The staff! letās just say the staff took ārelaxationā to a whole new level⦠mostly their own. When I mentioned the room looked like it had been through a frat partyācomplete with mystery stains and a dust collectionāthe response I got was āoh, reallyā. A shrug.
I guess I should be thankful they didnāt offer me a mop and say, āWell, youāre here for two nights, plenty of time to clean up!ā Five stars for their ability to stay calm in the face of filth. Would I recommend? Only if youāre doing research on bacteria."