longbow51
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A couple of my best friends are Blackfoot, I'd just drop names...
Worst Hotel you’ve ever stayed at ..
- Thread starter The Hedgehog
- Start date
ismith
Well-known member
How much was she charging?
texwest44
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- Jan 23, 2020
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(Warning: LONG story)
Life is so weird and subjective, you know? Sometimes I don't even know what to make of it. In this particular case, what might be considered an awful experience by some might considered one of the more exciting and interesting experiences at a hotel.
So I spend a lot of time on the road. A lot. We don't need to get into mileage, but I rack em up. In doing so, I've spent a fair amount of time in lodging of all varieties, from rickety no-tells to places that could really only be described as unnecessary, and that's across the world and spanning a few years. If you do this enough, you encounter just about every kind of situation under the Sun in terms of lodging experiences. Issues with rooms, staff, other guests, you name it. You get used to it, and you develop your own systems of dealing with things. And then, one day, you're on a cross-country road trip with your brother and you stop at the Motel 6 on the south end of Lubbock, TX, and you realize you have much to experience, yet.
It was probably about 5:30 or so in the first week of August a few years ago, and I'm driving my brother and myself back to Montana from central TX from a family reunion. We have a reservation at the Motel 6 in Lubbock, and pull into the parking lot making good time. There was no point in making good time, however, as the front desk staff was moving at a west TX summer pace, which is ironically quite similar to a glacial pace. We wait in line for some minutes behind a couple of other guests until it's our turn.
When our turn arrives, I tell the woman at the computer that I have a reservation and give them my name, and they look on the computer. And they look on the computer. And they look on the computer, still. She asks me if the room is for two. Yes, two, I tell her. She asks if I meant to choose the room with one bed. Yes, I tell her. She looks at my brother, and then looks at me. I tell her that's my brother and I have spare everything to sleep on as we're on a three-week road trip from Montana. This placates her fear (for now), and she gives me my one room key. I ask for a second, but that isn't happening. I thank her and we leave.
We drive around the motel until we find our room - and we notice some things. Things you notice if one of you is a veteran traveler and the other one of you is a veteran of the marine corps. Suspicious people, suspicious activity, suspicious vehicles, the works. I tell him I think I found out why our room was $40 in the neighborhood with all of the $90 basic-rate hotel rooms. He agrees. We find our room, and we begin the several trips we each have to make to unload the car. We have a western adventure worth of gear - fishing stuff, guns, camping gear, the works - and we don't intend to lose it to whomever might be looking for a quick pawn.
After the first trip into the room, we notice that it hasn't been cleaned. And the bedding hasn't been changed. And there's no batteries in the remote for the TV that is still on. And the floor is sticky, and while I know they can't fix it immediately, it's also lumpy and uneven. So I tell my brother to hit pause while I go to the front desk to remedy the situation.
In walking through the central area of the Motel 6 Lubbock, I notice more things. There are many, many vandalized and unoccupied rooms. Doors smashed in (as if with battering ram), windows broken, that sort of thing. But there isn't much garbage around at all, most of the rooms are occupied, and there a metric boatload of kids running around and playing in the pool. And with them are a large number of adults all seeming to have a great time with the kids. The atmosphere seems run down, but the energy in the people is actually quite lively and refreshing. No one seems concerned at all for safety. Except two men who I've noticed seem to be... patrolling the motel? Just two seemingly random guys walking the same route with each other over and over again. Very interesting.
So I make my way to the front desk. And again, the line. I wait until my turn, and I talk to the same woman who I spoke with before. I tell her about the room, and she just kind of looks at me, like I'm waiting to deliver a punch line. She then tells me she can't simply give me a new room. I ask her if someone can come up and clean it. My brother and I can kill some time, and we're not sleeping in someone else's dirty bed and using their dirty towels. She silently screams at me for a moment behind very beleaguered eyes, the begrudgingly summons a housekeeper to come clean the room. The housekeeper says she'll be there in a moment, and gets an apron on. I ask if there's a laundry room, and am told there is one, but it's out of order. I make my way back to the room.
On my way back, I take a different way around the motel, and begin to investigate a bit. I was able to tell 20 minutes ago that this night was going to be some kind of fiasco, and now I'm out to effectively prove it, which isn't taking much. I look at rooms, and I watch people. The same two guys are still making their same rounds, being very casual but still very obvious. I observe the pool area - all women and kids. I watch a couple of other guys who seem to be making rounds to specific rooms. I walk by the laundry room - it's fully operational, and is filled with tattooed young men washing their laundry.
When I get back to my room, my brother is standing, waiting for my return. He's been watching people too, and has noticed what I've noticed. Our room is on the second floor, so we watch over the events of the afternoon and evening unfold. He informs me that he went to check out a pickup truck loaded with junk behind the building, and he noticed that there is a lot of organization going on among the guests in the hotel. We quickly come to an agreement that this Motel 6 is some kind of crime hub, and we agree to forego usual TV and early bed to watch the local show.
Just then the housekeeper arrives to the room - and she is unhappy. Not with us, but with the housekeeper who told her she flipped this room already. Now she's wondering what other rooms she'll have to do after this. She hits the bathroom, mops the floor, and flips the bedding with impressive speed and is on her way. The night is ours after that. Beers are open, bubblers are bubbling, and we are officially people watching.
As the afternoon becomes evening, and the families go back to their rooms, all that remains are the characters. And things start quickly - too quickly. My brother and I watch the interesting characters with the pick up truck fiddling with their sorted goods, while drinking beer and consuming things that are... less-than-legal in the state of TX. We hear loud footsteps coming up the stairs directly behind us, and turn around to see a guy leading three large, grumpy looking police officers right for us. We instinctively freeze (not all instincts are great), and the guy and his police ensemble walk right past us and down the corridor to a room that the guy opens with his keycard, and they go inside. My freeze breaks, and I grab my brother and run for our room and close the door and lock it. That was a very, very close call.
We wait for the police to leave, which they eventually do, and we go back out. When we get back out to the corridor where the police had emerged, we see the two guys who had been making the patrols all afternoon, they've come to see what the fuss was about. No answer on that front. It's clear at that time that they are indeed some kind of improvised security team for whatever is going here.
(part II contiunes below)
Life is so weird and subjective, you know? Sometimes I don't even know what to make of it. In this particular case, what might be considered an awful experience by some might considered one of the more exciting and interesting experiences at a hotel.
So I spend a lot of time on the road. A lot. We don't need to get into mileage, but I rack em up. In doing so, I've spent a fair amount of time in lodging of all varieties, from rickety no-tells to places that could really only be described as unnecessary, and that's across the world and spanning a few years. If you do this enough, you encounter just about every kind of situation under the Sun in terms of lodging experiences. Issues with rooms, staff, other guests, you name it. You get used to it, and you develop your own systems of dealing with things. And then, one day, you're on a cross-country road trip with your brother and you stop at the Motel 6 on the south end of Lubbock, TX, and you realize you have much to experience, yet.
It was probably about 5:30 or so in the first week of August a few years ago, and I'm driving my brother and myself back to Montana from central TX from a family reunion. We have a reservation at the Motel 6 in Lubbock, and pull into the parking lot making good time. There was no point in making good time, however, as the front desk staff was moving at a west TX summer pace, which is ironically quite similar to a glacial pace. We wait in line for some minutes behind a couple of other guests until it's our turn.
When our turn arrives, I tell the woman at the computer that I have a reservation and give them my name, and they look on the computer. And they look on the computer. And they look on the computer, still. She asks me if the room is for two. Yes, two, I tell her. She asks if I meant to choose the room with one bed. Yes, I tell her. She looks at my brother, and then looks at me. I tell her that's my brother and I have spare everything to sleep on as we're on a three-week road trip from Montana. This placates her fear (for now), and she gives me my one room key. I ask for a second, but that isn't happening. I thank her and we leave.
We drive around the motel until we find our room - and we notice some things. Things you notice if one of you is a veteran traveler and the other one of you is a veteran of the marine corps. Suspicious people, suspicious activity, suspicious vehicles, the works. I tell him I think I found out why our room was $40 in the neighborhood with all of the $90 basic-rate hotel rooms. He agrees. We find our room, and we begin the several trips we each have to make to unload the car. We have a western adventure worth of gear - fishing stuff, guns, camping gear, the works - and we don't intend to lose it to whomever might be looking for a quick pawn.
After the first trip into the room, we notice that it hasn't been cleaned. And the bedding hasn't been changed. And there's no batteries in the remote for the TV that is still on. And the floor is sticky, and while I know they can't fix it immediately, it's also lumpy and uneven. So I tell my brother to hit pause while I go to the front desk to remedy the situation.
In walking through the central area of the Motel 6 Lubbock, I notice more things. There are many, many vandalized and unoccupied rooms. Doors smashed in (as if with battering ram), windows broken, that sort of thing. But there isn't much garbage around at all, most of the rooms are occupied, and there a metric boatload of kids running around and playing in the pool. And with them are a large number of adults all seeming to have a great time with the kids. The atmosphere seems run down, but the energy in the people is actually quite lively and refreshing. No one seems concerned at all for safety. Except two men who I've noticed seem to be... patrolling the motel? Just two seemingly random guys walking the same route with each other over and over again. Very interesting.
So I make my way to the front desk. And again, the line. I wait until my turn, and I talk to the same woman who I spoke with before. I tell her about the room, and she just kind of looks at me, like I'm waiting to deliver a punch line. She then tells me she can't simply give me a new room. I ask her if someone can come up and clean it. My brother and I can kill some time, and we're not sleeping in someone else's dirty bed and using their dirty towels. She silently screams at me for a moment behind very beleaguered eyes, the begrudgingly summons a housekeeper to come clean the room. The housekeeper says she'll be there in a moment, and gets an apron on. I ask if there's a laundry room, and am told there is one, but it's out of order. I make my way back to the room.
On my way back, I take a different way around the motel, and begin to investigate a bit. I was able to tell 20 minutes ago that this night was going to be some kind of fiasco, and now I'm out to effectively prove it, which isn't taking much. I look at rooms, and I watch people. The same two guys are still making their same rounds, being very casual but still very obvious. I observe the pool area - all women and kids. I watch a couple of other guys who seem to be making rounds to specific rooms. I walk by the laundry room - it's fully operational, and is filled with tattooed young men washing their laundry.
When I get back to my room, my brother is standing, waiting for my return. He's been watching people too, and has noticed what I've noticed. Our room is on the second floor, so we watch over the events of the afternoon and evening unfold. He informs me that he went to check out a pickup truck loaded with junk behind the building, and he noticed that there is a lot of organization going on among the guests in the hotel. We quickly come to an agreement that this Motel 6 is some kind of crime hub, and we agree to forego usual TV and early bed to watch the local show.
Just then the housekeeper arrives to the room - and she is unhappy. Not with us, but with the housekeeper who told her she flipped this room already. Now she's wondering what other rooms she'll have to do after this. She hits the bathroom, mops the floor, and flips the bedding with impressive speed and is on her way. The night is ours after that. Beers are open, bubblers are bubbling, and we are officially people watching.
As the afternoon becomes evening, and the families go back to their rooms, all that remains are the characters. And things start quickly - too quickly. My brother and I watch the interesting characters with the pick up truck fiddling with their sorted goods, while drinking beer and consuming things that are... less-than-legal in the state of TX. We hear loud footsteps coming up the stairs directly behind us, and turn around to see a guy leading three large, grumpy looking police officers right for us. We instinctively freeze (not all instincts are great), and the guy and his police ensemble walk right past us and down the corridor to a room that the guy opens with his keycard, and they go inside. My freeze breaks, and I grab my brother and run for our room and close the door and lock it. That was a very, very close call.
We wait for the police to leave, which they eventually do, and we go back out. When we get back out to the corridor where the police had emerged, we see the two guys who had been making the patrols all afternoon, they've come to see what the fuss was about. No answer on that front. It's clear at that time that they are indeed some kind of improvised security team for whatever is going here.
(part II contiunes below)
texwest44
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- Joined
- Jan 23, 2020
- Messages
- 189
My brother and I go back to our room for supper. Leftover bbq from the reunion! We finish and go back outside, and now the sun is beginning to set, and the Motel 6 takes on a new form of life. Many new arrivals who aren't guests, and some who are, begin pouring in. We spend some identifying the guards, identifying rooms where the drugs/money is kept, identifying rooms where the drugs are sold, and as the night went on and the sun went all the way down, the rooms where the girls are stationed to be on-call, and the rooms where they take johns. We don't get a good look at the guy in charge of this show who's bringing the girls in two at a time, but we call him Noah and watch him ferry girls for a good long time from the second floor walkway above them. We are noticed by everyone involved, but not minded at all, possibly because of their own confidence in knowing their operation is well built and guarded, but also possibly because my brother and I are about as threatening as any two stoned-up drunk dummies on a cross country road trip could ever really appear to be.
The night grows late, and we decide to make our way back to the room for bedtime. We start picking up our beer cans and as we turn to go back to our rooms, one of the girls down below gives us a farewell wave and smile. My brother laughs, and I wave back. It's important to be polite when you're not local, after all.
Before we hit the hay, I tell my brother that I think there's probably not much in terms of petty crime or car break ins around here considering the level of organized 24-hour operations these guys are operating. I tell him I bet they run a pretty tight ship when it comes to doing things that wind up dragging the police around. He agrees - but says to keep the guns loaded and out, anyway, which I find reasonable enough.
Around 3am there's a very loud, very jarring glass CRASH. I get my boots on and look out the window - no one. I tell my brother to grab the shotgun and cover me, I want to make sure that wasn't our rear windscreen getting smashed out. I check over the rail, no persons and no broken glass, everything seems ok. I go to check around the corner of the building nearest to the door and run into noneother but the two guys who have been patrolling all day - I suppose they're on call for night shift, too, as they're wearing the same uniform I am - jammie bottoms and boots. I ask them if they've seen anything, and they say no. We go to check the other side of the building and there's a great big pile of smashed glass in front of one of the rooms. We look at the window on the room where the glass came from - smashed from the inside out. Whatever was going on was going on inside, not outside, so the two guys turn on their heels and head back for their rooms. I do the same. We wake up one more time to red and blue lights flashing through the curtains, but don't hear anything else throughout the night.
The following morning, we load the car and reflect on the night before. It's not every night you get to watch a drug and prostitution hub in action. And the action never ends - before anyone else is up and moving, the morning shift guard for the downstairs drug room is on duty, smoking a blunt outside of the room. We give each other "'Sup?" head nods, and go about our day.
As we do our final triple checks for everything, the parking lot SWARMS with police vehicles. Marked, unmarked, regular patrol units, special units, all kinds of guys. At least a dozen officers bail out of the vehicles, and head for one of the rooms near the morning drug room. The morning shift guard was almost superhuman in his speed of putting his blunt out, whipping his phone out to call (whoever), and making sure the door was locked before walking away. The police get to the room theyre interested in, very casually, and knock on the door with all of the commotion and tumult of selling cookies. A very large man opens the door - a guard for the girl's rooms from the previous night that we recognize. They have a short, civil conversation that we can't hear, and then the man turns around, allowing the police to cuff him, and without saying a word walks calmly to one of the SUVs, where he still needs to be kind of stuffed in, and off they go. We don't see the drug guard come back. We start up the car and head back for the front office.
We turn our key in, thank the new, spritely woman at the front desk, and get on the road for the day.
So that's about it, I reckon. I still think about that night a lot. A lot of things could have gone a lot of different ways, and I'm kind of glad everything happened the way it did. Well, except for the part where Motel 6 stole $40 from me but I didn't realize it til I got back home, that didn't really carry the same whimsical feeling as the rest.
(the end)
The night grows late, and we decide to make our way back to the room for bedtime. We start picking up our beer cans and as we turn to go back to our rooms, one of the girls down below gives us a farewell wave and smile. My brother laughs, and I wave back. It's important to be polite when you're not local, after all.
Before we hit the hay, I tell my brother that I think there's probably not much in terms of petty crime or car break ins around here considering the level of organized 24-hour operations these guys are operating. I tell him I bet they run a pretty tight ship when it comes to doing things that wind up dragging the police around. He agrees - but says to keep the guns loaded and out, anyway, which I find reasonable enough.
Around 3am there's a very loud, very jarring glass CRASH. I get my boots on and look out the window - no one. I tell my brother to grab the shotgun and cover me, I want to make sure that wasn't our rear windscreen getting smashed out. I check over the rail, no persons and no broken glass, everything seems ok. I go to check around the corner of the building nearest to the door and run into noneother but the two guys who have been patrolling all day - I suppose they're on call for night shift, too, as they're wearing the same uniform I am - jammie bottoms and boots. I ask them if they've seen anything, and they say no. We go to check the other side of the building and there's a great big pile of smashed glass in front of one of the rooms. We look at the window on the room where the glass came from - smashed from the inside out. Whatever was going on was going on inside, not outside, so the two guys turn on their heels and head back for their rooms. I do the same. We wake up one more time to red and blue lights flashing through the curtains, but don't hear anything else throughout the night.
The following morning, we load the car and reflect on the night before. It's not every night you get to watch a drug and prostitution hub in action. And the action never ends - before anyone else is up and moving, the morning shift guard for the downstairs drug room is on duty, smoking a blunt outside of the room. We give each other "'Sup?" head nods, and go about our day.
As we do our final triple checks for everything, the parking lot SWARMS with police vehicles. Marked, unmarked, regular patrol units, special units, all kinds of guys. At least a dozen officers bail out of the vehicles, and head for one of the rooms near the morning drug room. The morning shift guard was almost superhuman in his speed of putting his blunt out, whipping his phone out to call (whoever), and making sure the door was locked before walking away. The police get to the room theyre interested in, very casually, and knock on the door with all of the commotion and tumult of selling cookies. A very large man opens the door - a guard for the girl's rooms from the previous night that we recognize. They have a short, civil conversation that we can't hear, and then the man turns around, allowing the police to cuff him, and without saying a word walks calmly to one of the SUVs, where he still needs to be kind of stuffed in, and off they go. We don't see the drug guard come back. We start up the car and head back for the front office.
We turn our key in, thank the new, spritely woman at the front desk, and get on the road for the day.
So that's about it, I reckon. I still think about that night a lot. A lot of things could have gone a lot of different ways, and I'm kind of glad everything happened the way it did. Well, except for the part where Motel 6 stole $40 from me but I didn't realize it til I got back home, that didn't really carry the same whimsical feeling as the rest.
(the end)
The Hedgehog
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Are you an Aggie?
HuntTalk Freak
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I didn’t go find out.
HuntTalk Freak
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No, I grew up poor. That was my first and only trip there.
woods89
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This thread is highly entertaining! Thankfully, I don't have anything to add....
Southern Elk
Well-known member
I just booked a couple of rooms for a family vacation. I’ve never been so nervous trying to pick the right ones, after reading all of these stories.
I had to go to Oakland for work and asked a local colleague where to stay. She gave me a recommendation and I went with it. Turns out, it was in a part of town where I was not real welcome. I went in my room in one trip and stayed in until the next morning. Lots of things happened in that parking lot that night based on the sounds. No close calls, but I sure enjoyed leaving.
Khunter
Well-known member
LOL, great, albeit stomach churning stories. Next time a HTer posts “Hey I drew XX tag do y’all have suggestions for motels nearby I will be sure to link this thread as I say “CAMP you fool! CAMP!”
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Gotta be Orofino, kamiah, challis or salmon
sethkuhl
Well-known member
Lol kamiah
Islander
Well-known member
Ramada in Detroit. 1990s. Gotta Ramada? Nada!
I stayed at a hotel there for a week once, was supposed to be up to three weeks but after one I was gone. Among the issues I had were a freezing cold room, the supposed to be open on site restaurant being closed and no WiFi that I needed for work. Nothing I tried seem to help the heat and the other two issues I basically got told everyday that they were going to be fixed any moment.
44hunter45
Well-known member
What was that old blue motel by the river in Kamiah? Stayed there once in 1986. $25/night.
jwatts
Well-known member
I stayed at a hotel outside Corpus last night. There were plenty of drawers, but no marital aids were discovered. Is there a hotel room dildo bingo card? If so I'll start paying more attention
Westelker - W. Colorado
Well-known member
What hotel in Gunnison?
Westelker - W. Colorado
Well-known member
Anyone stay in the "No Tell Motel" on the Miracle Mile in Tucson? I'm not sure if it's still there or if the name has just changed.
HuntTalk Freak
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- Feb 10, 2018
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The Days Inn near the airport.
