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This is a question Hotel Splendido

Enzyme writes, "what about awful hotels, B&Bs, or friends' houses where you've had no choice but to stay the night?"

What, the place in Oxford that had the mattresses encased in plastic (crinkly noises all night), the place in Blackpool where the night manager would drum to the music on his ipod on the corridor walls as he did his rounds, or the place in Lancaster where the two single beds(!) collapsed through metal fatigue?

Add your crappy hotel experiences to our list.

(, Thu 17 Jan 2008, 16:05)
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And if you look to your left, ladies and gentlemen, you'll see the eigth circle of hell...
Ahhh, Corfu. I clicked “buy now” on the deal advertising 2 weeks self catering, flights and transfers included on the sunny north coast of the island for the seemingly incredible price of £200…

On reflection, I should have known.

We flew Cheapo airlines (it may have been Monarch, I forget. Actually, I blanked out the horror), so consequently no one had thought to reserve a take off slot and we eventually crawled in 4 hours late, The bus took us at breakneck speed along island cliff tops, pausing just long enough for us to get a good look at the memorials to less fortunate drivers who’d met their end over a yawning precipice. I shut my eyes and prayed to a god that I don’t believe in to get me to a hotel, any hotel in one piece. Be careful what you wish for…

We were the last off the coach. I swear as each group of tired holidaymakers disembarked before us, I saw something akin to pity in their eyes, knowing deep down that no matter how bad their 3 star palace with hot and cold running maid service and full English breakfast karaoke was, it was the Ritz compared to what we were heading towards.

Finally we drew up at the edge of a field. In the far distance I could see a collection of sheds leaning at a jaunty angle, surrounded by barbed wire. “This is you,” the bus driver said and unceremoniously threw our cases onto the roadside and vanished into the night. A coyote howled. Actually, that’s bullshit, a cat walked past and hissed at us, but a coyote would have been so much more dramatic.

Dragging the cases behind us, we set off to the place we would call home for the next fourteen days. We approached the door and unlocked it. To be honest, if a kitten had delivered a light slap to it, it probably would have opened. I threw on the light switch and there, illuminated by a single dangling bare bulb was… it. A room, no, a fetid pit, with a double bed and single camp bed, an alcove with a shower and toilet and a toaster oven with some dangerous looking wires hanging out of the socket.

Now to digress for a second, some of you may be reading this and thinking, “look Rakky, you shelled out £200 for this including flights, what the hell did you think you would get?” Friends, I know. I’m not stupid. I wasn’t expecting the Corfu Hilton. Hell, at that price I wouldn’t have even expected Paris Hilton, but I didn’t think it would be quite so, well, desolate.

With the blitz spirit that marks one out as being English, I selected the single bed, slipped into my jammies and settled down for some sleep. Things would be brighter in the morning, There’d be sun, sea and all the cheap oversized G and T’s I could pour down my waiting gullet.

It seemed like no sooner had I fallen into a restless doze than I was awoken by the unmistakable sound of… Well, actually, I had no idea what it was. A tinny explosion followed by the noise of what seemed like 50 horses violently pissing outside the window. “What the fucking, fucking hell was that?” I exclaimed (I’m paraphrasing, you understand.) My friend leapt out of bed, threw open the shutters and there, illuminated in the eerie half light of 4am, was the remains of the solar powered boiler that stood directly outside our balcony. It had spewed its fibreglass innards all over the floor and was now gushing water, creating a swampy lagoon right under the patio. We realised quickly that no one could hear our discontent, so we covered our ears, hoping for sleep to take us through till morning.

An hour later, I woke from a dream where I had seemingly caught my fingers in a door hinge. On closer inspection through my foggy, myopic gaze, I realised that the pain in my hand was actually being caused by the biggest beetle I have ever witnessed jamming its steely pincers into my thumb. Silently, I detached it and threw it to a watery death over the balcony. I didn’t go back to sleep; I couldn’t. I sat, shivering under a grey, scratchy blanket, awaiting the dawn.

Morning came and a man came to fix the boiler. I never knew you could do so much DIY with just a hammer, some six inch nails and a roll of gaffer tape.

4am rolled around again, as it does, and the boiler exploded a second time.

The boiler exploded on 5 separate occasions. The beetle, I’m glad to say, never returned. We never braved the toaster oven and, to be fair, the toilet only backed up twice, leaving us to pick up flaccid turds from the cracked bathroom floor before hurling them back down the U bend, praying that this time, they’d leave us in peace.

Other than that, the rest of the holiday passed without incident. Well, apart from being mistaken for a lesbian paedophile, catching an ear infection from the infested swimming pool that left me with all the coordination of a drunk Stephen Hawking and consuming the worst pizza ever created by a human being. It had hairs on it.

Still, I can laugh about it now, but it’s been three years. And sometimes, when my radiator pipes clank and hiss in the night, I’m transported back there. So I simply reach for the tranquilizers, swig them down with some vodka and finally, the screaming stops.

Good times, they were, good times…

(, Fri 18 Jan 2008, 4:42, closed)
*snorts with laughter*
(, Fri 18 Jan 2008, 9:34, closed)
Best story of the week so far.

(, Fri 18 Jan 2008, 9:40, closed)
That pretty much trumps anything else on this QOTW - have a sympathy click!
(, Fri 18 Jan 2008, 9:55, closed)
Another legendary post from the great Rakky
(, Fri 18 Jan 2008, 11:34, closed)
(, Fri 18 Jan 2008, 12:04, closed)
I never knew you could do so much DIY with just a hammer, some six inch nails and a roll of gaffer tape.

Rakky, you obviously never knew my grandfather!
(, Fri 18 Jan 2008, 12:08, closed)
Best so far
(, Fri 18 Jan 2008, 14:47, closed)
I have to take my hat off to you Rakky
How can one woman court so much calamity in her life?

No matter how hapless the situation you find yourself in, the comedy value you extract from it is sheer genius.
(, Sat 19 Jan 2008, 0:38, closed)

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