The paint on the walls was chipping. The counters in the bathroom were chipping. The floor towel was snagged and ripping. The toilet was filthy and sounded like a furious spirit coming back for vengeance. The outlet by the bed didn’t work. So I decided to take a break from this catastrophe and take a dip in the pool, which was surprisingly nice. Afterward I was parched, so I went to get a Cherry Coke from the second floor vending machine, which I found to be sold out. So were the Dr. Pepper and regular Coke. When I finally got a soda—a Diet Coke on the fourth try—I cracked it open only to find it flat, and when I checked, it was expired by nearly three months. Now luckily, the lobby attendant was nice enough to replace it for me without a fuss, but that’s the best I can say about the customer service. Check-in took way too long, and all three of the women at the welcome desk were—at best—lukewarm and curt. By the morning, I didn’t even trust going down for the continental breakfast, and we were out by 9:00. Even for a wayside hotel, this was a terrible experience.
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