There’s something to be said for the La Quinta. That something is, “Ew.”
I’m not a motel/hotel snob. I really don’t care what they look like, where they’re located, whether they offer any sort of breakfast. As long as there’s wifi and a bed, I’m generally good.
But … ew.
I entered my room and immediately picked up a slight pee odor. The carpet is green and worn. The wallpaper has seen better days. The bathtub is dirty. The walls are thin enough that I can hear the two guys in the next room—and they’re not speaking particularly loudly. Granted, this La Quinta is not even close to the worst place I’ve ever stayed (ask @thefamilycoach about The Santorini), but it just reeks of hopelessness and waywardness.
Upon checking in, I asked the woman at the front desk whether the comforters are cleaned.
“Regularly?” she said.
I nodded.
“They’re on a rotation.” Then, after a pause, “It’s the industry standard.”
I’m here for two nights. The cum … eh, comforter gets the floor.
