The title pretty much says it all. Something described in another thread triggered a memory, so I thought I’d open up a thread for comments.
To kick things off: this didn’t happen to me, but to my family. The first year I was in college, my parents and my brother came down to visit me and to see a football game. Though I told them it was “Family Day”, my dad hadn’t thought it necessary to make reservations for a hotel.
Well, surprise surprise, they get into town and every place is booked solid. I was living in the dorm, so they couldn’t stay with me. The only place they can find with any vacancies is on the highway leading out of town. Warning sign number one: rooms were $15 a night. This was in 1991.
I visited this room, and thank God I didn’t have to stay there. The beds were extremely worn and lumpy. The carpet was threadbare and holey. The towels were like large sheets of thin sandpaper. Oh, but that’s not the best part! The best part was the stain on the doorjamb that appeared to be a blood stain! It was about as high up as the head of an average-sized person, with trickling paths reaching almost to the floor. Staying at this hotel, my family was awakened twice in the night: once, when a train rumbled past, about three feet from their window, in the early morning hours, and once by some law enforcement officers who were looking for the buddy of someone they were arresting outside.
To this day, we remind my father of this hotel. In fact, I once told this story to my girlfriend, who works at the local rape crisis center. Her eyes got very wide when I mentioned the place; she has, shall we say, heard of it more than once.
I’m sure someone here must have an even better story than that. Share!