Ghetto!
I am not a picky person; I have stayed at my share of cheap hotels over the years, many for less than I paid to stay at this piece of work. But this one wins the prize for the worst hotel I have ever stayed in. The website pictures look great, a little too great, so to be safe I even called the hotel direct before finalizing my reservation through Travelocity. I asked, "Is it clean?" Yes. "Is there wi-fi in all the rooms?" Absolutely. And last, "Is it ghetto?" Excuse me sir? "Is it ghett-to?" No sir, it is nice.
Wrong, wrong, wrong. This hotel is ghett-to.
You drive onto the property, and the old Clubhouse Inn sign has been covered by a flapping nylon printout with the hotel's new name: "America's Best Value Inn." Ghetto.
You walk through the shabby front door into the lobby, you smell some weird combination of wet dog, moldy meatballs and fish. Ghetto.
The girl at the front desk had her head in her hands when I walked in. "Looks like you're having a great day," I say. Eyeroll. "I'm here to check in." Eyeroll, conspiratorial whisper: three-o'-clock. Check my watch: 1:45pm. "Can I check in early?" Big sigh. Phonecall. Ten minutes, I'm told. I sit on the greasy couch within eyeshot of the front desk in the lobby for 25 minutes. Nothing. I step back up to the front desk and wait patiently as Lafawnduh enjoys 10 minutes of conversation with her co-worker boyfriend. After I'm finally greeted, it takes another 10 minutes to check me in before I am handed my room key and a little voucher for 2 free drinks in the hotel lobby. Ghetto.
I walk, head down, up 3 floors of stairs, to my room. I'm angry at myself for not being more careful, looking straight down, so I can't help but notice that the carpets in the hallways and stairwell are dark brown, almost black, down the middle the entire way, the original maroon hotel paisley print only visible in 6-inch swaths along the walls on either side. Ghetto.
I arrive at my room. There are crumbs visible under the door and the door itself is dirty at the bottom and chips of paint are missing at the bottom and corners. All this and I haven't even seen the room yet. Ghetto.
I open the door and I'm looking at a big fold down the middle of the carpet in the entryway and a bigger fold running the length of the bedroom. Ghetto.
There are holes in the wall, splattered dried paint on the desk chair and curtains and a couple gross-looking stains on the couch that I instantly decide I will not be sitting on. The furniture looks like it has been beaten with the wrong end of a cowboy belt and dragged down 3 miles of bad road. The bedspread is that weird styrofoam kind and floral print. The bath soap smells of socks and fear. Ghetto.
I turn on the tv. Of the 30 or so channels on the deluxe 19" model, 27 are fuzzy. Let's check the wi-fi, I think, maybe I can watch something on Netflix. I fire up the laptop, and I may as well be at the top of Kilimanjaro: no wireless internet signal whatsoever. Ghet-to.
Since I had been traveling nearly all night and was badly in need of sleep and a shower, I closed the curtains, turned off all the lights except the desk light to obscure the view of my ghetto-dungeon and collapsed on the bed. I made a call to Travelocity when I awoke briefly around 11:00 pm...no dice, I'm told. Should have called earlier, I'm told. C'est la vie, I say, and hang up.
I will never, ever make this mistake again. Don't you make this mistake either-- avoid Americas Best Value Inn and Suites (formerly Clubhouse Inn and Suites) like the ghett-to.