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| - The best part about this hotel is that I get to rate it one star, which helps even out my Yelp profile as I had way too many four and five star reviews and was starting to look like a nice person.
This is the worst hotel I've seen in the past fifteen years... And that counts inner city gems in New Delhi, Kabul and Cusco. US Airways (another one star review) made me miss my connection by exactly two minutes (I was running up as they were closing the door) and then informed me I couldn't stay in the airport and gave me a number to call to get a discounted room. Two hours on hold and seventy dollars later, I take the shuttle to the Baymont and experience the horrors.
After receiving several of those looks that make my 'woman traveling alone' spidey senses fire off, I rode the Guantanamo Bay hotbox of an elevator up to the second floor, musing how the hallway carpet had the same tack to it as a theater floor after several matinee showings of a children's movie. Things got better as I opened my door and was greeting by a wall of endocrine system altering air 'freshener.' The carpet here appeared to have the consistency of the AstroTurf lining a South Jersey motel pool and black marks and dents covered the walls. Turning to shut the door, I issued a bitter laugh after noting the door chain and no receiver to slide it in to. Rather than deal with a room reassignment, I wedged a chair under the door handle and removed the stained comforter with the alacrity of a stage performer pulling a tablecloth from under Steuben crystal. Inspecting the sheets, I elected to sleep on top of the fitted sheet and under the large scarf I travel with for such instances. The ultimate affront occurred after I plugged my phone charger into the wall and turned to set the phone down on the night stand, pausing in a stomach churning frozen stance after seeing the wasteland that was not one, but both bedside tables. What appeared to be greasy, sticky, smeared handprints covered both... as well as the headboard. I winced, put the phone on the bed next to me and stretched out crosswise, trying to split the difference between the foot of the bed and the headboard of horrors.
The night continued. At approximately 3:30 AM, someone slid a key into my door lock, and opened the door as far as it would go against my chair barrier. "Who are you and what are you doing?!" I yelled (with more expletives) as I sprung to the floor, contemplating using a lamp as a shillelagh. "Oh... Sorry... My bad..." The interloper left, neglecting, of course, to shut the door fully.
At 5 AM, my phone rang. "Hello?" I asked, groggily.
"Who is this?" Came a thickly accented voice from the other side.
"No, who am I talking to? You tell me first."
"This is the front desk. I must know who is in this room."
"I filled out your information sheet at check in, you can look at that and find out." I hung up.
Breakfast featured powdered dairy creamer and stale corn flakes and fruit loops.
Despite the subsidization of this hotel by the airport and US Airways, I still believe in the power of the free market and feverishly hope against hope that this place will implode back into the gaping maw from whence it emerged. Until then, don't stay there, folks!
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