The thing about staying in moderately priced hotels is that you run the risk of some of them being shit holes. There’s one in New Mexico took the grand prize. Given one star in the Hobo Hideaways Almanac, it seemed to be a halfway house for scary looking, knife wielding, face tattooed ex-convicts. There was so much yellow police tape, I thought it was being gift wrapped as a Christmas present. I don’t want to mention the name of the hotel but add three and three and put the word motel in front of it and you’re pretty close.
Five ways you know your staying in a shit hotel:
- The guy lying by the pool in the wife beater tee shirt is letting his pit bull swim laps.
- Cigarette burns on the no smoking sign in your hotel room
- The ice machine is clogged with used condoms.
- The towels in your bathroom are almost translucent, yet still scratch your skin upon contact and have a strange inability to absorb water.
- The Manson family next door offer you some really good meth to look after their kids for the night.
- The cockroaches are selling timeshares for your bathroom.
The Year of Living Aimlessly. 