A Thoroughly Unpleasant Stay – For Those Who Enjoy Being Treated with Contempt
Where to even begin?
We arrived—me, my one-year-old son fast asleep in my arms, and my fiancée, who lives with a chronic illness requiring timely medication—only to be greeted by a queue that could have doubled as a Victorian breadline. Fine, we thought, these things happen.
I nipped out to the shop next door to grab some essentials while my fiancée sorted the check-in. My card had a momentary wobble (as these things occasionally do), but I was back within the minute—literally one minute.
Now, you’d think after standing in line for twenty minutes already, a receptionist might show a modicum of patience. Not so. In that fleeting minute, he’d decided to send my fiancée and our now-stirring baby to the back of another long queue. And, rather extraordinarily, refused to return our passports, which had been handed over to complete the booking. I hadn’t realised we’d checked into Hotel California—or some autocratic regime where documents are seized on entry.
My son, predictably, woke up grumpy, and my fiancée—who needed a private space to take her medication—was left standing there, visibly unwell, without a room. All this because someone couldn’t wait sixty seconds.
Eventually, I paid and asked about the travel cot I had requested weeks earlier—specifically the reason I chose this hotel in the first place. I was told I’d have to wait while he served others, as if the request were some ludicrous last-minute whim rather than a clearly noted part of the booking. Apparently, once you hand over your money, you cease to exist as a person of concern.
We finally reached the room. It was a furnace. We showered, only to dry ourselves on towels that looked—and felt—like they hadn’t seen bleach since the last ice age. Dingy grey, threadbare, and distinctly unpleasant.
Back downstairs I went to retrieve the travel cot, which took the receptionist all of ten seconds to fetch from an office behind the desk. Why that couldn’t have been done earlier, when it was actually needed, I’ve no idea. It’s not as though I’d asked him to assemble a grand piano.
Now here’s where it gets dangerous: while putting the cot up, I noticed the base wouldn’t stay down. The hinge was broken. And when I say broken, I mean the kind of broken where, had I placed my son inside, the metal mechanism could’ve either whacked him in the head or skewered him mid-sleep. Honestly, I stood there thinking, “This isn’t just bad service—this is bordering on negligence.”
So, back downstairs I went, cot in arms, and waited while the receptionist finished a casual chat about football scores with the security guard. Because clearly, that was the priority.
When I explained the situation—fairly calmly, I might add—he said there wasn’t another cot available. When I asked how my child was expected to sleep, he shrugged. No concern. No apology. Just blank indifference. At that point, I was genuinely speechless.
Back to the room, still hot, still uncomfortable. Had we had the means to transfer to another hotel, we would’ve been out of there immediately. But we didn’t, so we stayed.
The next morning, both my son and I woke up covered in red spots and rashes. I’ll let that speak for itself. My fiancée, having barely touched the bed, was spared—likely the only blessing in the whole sorry ordeal.
We asked twice—once in the morning, once in the afternoon—to speak with a manager. Apparently, this place suffers from the opposite of most public services: far too many workers, none of whom seem capable of actual management. “There’s no manager available,” we were told, both at 9 a.m. and again at 10 p.m.
We left. We didn’t look back.
So, if you enjoy being treated like an inconvenience, sleeping in a sauna, drying off with old rags, and placing your child in what can only be described as a medieval baby trap, then by all means—book here.
If not, avoid this hotel like the plague.
Price is no excuse for filth, danger, or staff who act like basic courtesy is above their pay grade. Every hotel, no matter the cost, should be clean, safe, and respectful. This place failed on all counts.
I’ve since raised a complaint with Booking.com, who, to their credit, have been excellent so far. I’m currently pursuing a full refund—and I believe it’s well deserved.