I’m Staying At A Shitty Hotel And I Fear For My Life

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First off, it needs to be mentioned that normally my company does not book shitty hotels. But the past week or so I have stayed the majority of nights in a rather disgusting establishment. Granted, not much can be expected from an extended stay type hotel in the arm pit of the arm pit of America, Elizabeth, NJ. There isn’t a single nice thing in the area except for the fact that New York is so close you could smell it, except for the fact that the stench of Jersey covers everything.

Let me give you the lay of the land to paint a picture of what I’m dealing with.

Everything is brown, crème, or tan. It masks all stains very well, but I know they are there.

There are signs lining the parking lot stating “Remove Valuables From Vehicle. Hotel Management Not Responsible For Stolen Items.” The fact that this disclaimer is necessary warrants some questioning as to how often people’s cars get broken into here.

There is an IHOP in the adjacent parking lot. This can actually be seen as a positive, because there is no real breakfast offered at this fine establishment. But still, it is an IHOP. And everyone knows the clientele that places like IHOP and Denny’s brings in.

Everything smells. The Lobby, the room, the towels. Just…not fresh.

There were unknown hairs in the shower. I have my reservations for calling them pubes, but still concerning nonetheless.
The lady at the front desk asked me if I have stayed here before, and when I said “No, I’ll be here off and on for the next four months” she replied, “That’s gonna suck.” Quality.

There are equally as many families living here as there are people renting rooms by the hour.

One of the principles of our company stayed here the other night for a meeting the next day, and his evaluation of the joint was “It’s not for professionals.” Thanks boss, it would have been awkward to complain about my situation so I am glad you see what I am dealing with.

I have been able to deal with these living conditions because frankly, I am barely in the room. I’ll work around 11–12 hours a day, grab a drink and dinner at a local joint called Longhorn Steakhouse (don’t know if you’ve ever heard of it but definitely check them out if you get the chance- killer margs), and head back to wash the stink off and pass out within an hour and a half.

This apathy for the quality of living quickly passed this evening when I came back from a 12 hour day to the building being evacuated and the fire alarm going off. Luckily I documented the whole thing for my less than modest social media following.
I quickly assumed the worst.

And soon enough, the 60 year-old fire chief had the verdict.

Knowing there was no imminent damage to the few items of clothing I had in my room, I just got annoyed with the situation.
But there was still work to do. Enough work for four.

With the threat neutralized, I seized my opportunity to cut ahead of the masses to head back into my humble abode that had a welcoming new scent in the lobby.

Knowing the kind of degenerates (myself not excluded) that are staying here, I can only assume the hotel staff will be requested all sorts of demands as compensation for this traumatic experience. I can only imagine what the poor bastard whose laundry got barbecued is going to be asking for.

And with that, disaster was averted and all of us were able to go to bed that night. I probably could have done my time and dealt with the shit hole in the long run. But the fact that at any given moment the kitchenette in my room could catch fire leaves me rather uneasy. I think I’ll be requesting some new accommodations for next week..

Image via Shutterstock

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Cush

Mainer born and raised. Boston sports. Miller Lites. Let's get drunk and eat chicken fingers.

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