Budget Lodging

I won’t “tel” if you don’t.

As a travel writer, I’ve had the privilege of being treated to some lavish resort stays. But that’s when I’m on a press trip or assignment, so the accommodations are hosted or otherwise paid for. When I’m traveling on my own dime, the places I choose to stay are, as you might imagine, markedly different. Typically, the most reasonably priced, borderline-reputable-looking option I can find.

And even though complimentary wine or turndown service has yet to be offered at any such establishment, I have a deep appreciation for and fascination with budget hotels/motels and the services, settings, and experiences they regularly provide. Safe-ish, clean-ish shelter for the night, and often, the opportunity to begin the next day by having my nutritional needs somewhat serviceably met in the lobby. But it’s the “ish” part of the budget hotel stay where a magical mix of humor, confusion, and episodic concern for one’s own well-being resides.

The possibilities are as many as the mind can conceive. And there will no doubt be at least a handful of things you’re going to have to look past, and concessions that must be made concerning some comforts and cravings if the relationship between traveler and cost-efficient establishment is going to work.

Room aromas vary, though they generally reside within the realm of acceptably off-putting. Common offenders include the lingering bouquet of either stale smoke or dog. But sometimes you get the eye-watering melange of smoky dog with chemical air freshener.

Curtains might not be as attached or light-restrictive as they once were. Expect excessively worn, dated, or mismatched fixtures, and the bathroom water temperature and pressure to be in constant question. The AC or heating unit might rattle or sit on a hair trigger if it works at all. The entire sleep kit, including the pillows, mattress, and sheets, will more likely than not, greet your body’s desire for comfortable rest with indifference if not disdain. There may or may not be in-room coffee.

And if there is, it will not be good. The coffee “tray” will sometimes need to be moved to get it next to a plug-in that the cord can reach, probably in the bathroom or on the floor. And for some reason, there’s usually a one-to-one ratio of caffeinated to decaffeinated coffee packets.

This is more of a generalized complaint than a budget lodging issue. But seriously, why are we still doing this? I feel like I’ve seen maybe five people order decaf in my life. A quick consultation with Professor Google revealed that roughly 10% of adult American coffee drinkers choose decaf. I believe it’s time for all lodging establishments to reassess their coffee packet distribution habits with the public at large in mind.

That decaffeinated packet expired in 2012.

But these things are part and parcel. They are the trade-offs that one expects when securing a road home for the evening that’s priced in the double digits. However, sometimes these idiosyncrasies can wander into the realm of the absurd.

I shampooed yesterday. I can wait to do it again until tomorrow.

Like the “Navel Destroyer” shower head. I’m above average height, and I’m accustomed to having to “adjust” my posture to get everything wet. But nobody under seven feet tall should expect to have to get on their knees or limbo to lather and rinse effectively. I also recently had the pleasure of showering sans-curtain. It turns out that if you exercise a bit of caution, they’re not nearly as necessary as we’ve been led to believe.

I didn't realize shower curtains were that expensive.

Not long after having the privilege of participating in a curtainless shower, I stayed at a motel with a shoilet. For the uninitiated, the word is a portmanteau of "shower" and "toilet" and refers to a bathroom design where the toilet is located directly inside the shower stall. It’s a highly functional space-saving strategy often utilized in camper van conversions, marine vessels, and RVs. But you’re making things a little weird for all parties involved if you put one in a motel room.

An extravagant layout as shoilts go.

At times, feckless room planning and an absence of spatial awareness can be a source of confounding amusement. Things like long-traveling extension cords plugged into power strips, plugged into extension cords, and ill-fitting furnishings abound. Along with furniture arrangements that can somewhat negate an individual piece’s functionality or cancel out the use of multiple units entirely. I prefer to envision it as a diabolical Tetris-ing of components designed to test my problem-solving abilities. As opposed to a laissez-faire, “we managed to fit it all in there, they’ll figure it out,” approach to decor.

The perfect blend of form and function.

And on occasion, these quirks can cross over the line into cause for concern. Cracked window glass held together and in place by duct or packing tape is remarkably more common than you might think. It’s not the safest or securest thing I’ve ever seen, but if I’m on the second floor, potential intruders should remain at bay. And as long as I don’t lean on it, the tape should hold. And if it does give way, I’ll clasp together the “kind of curtains” and allow whatever ambient urban serenade that wafts into the room to usher me into an alerted slumber.

I was one of two guests at this hotel. How bad were the other rooms if this is where they put me?

Blatant disregard for fire codes is a deal breaker. As is failing to meet my very reasonable baseline for standards of cleanliness. If I find a single, long black hair in otherwise clean-looking sheets, no harm, no foul. It was likely unknowingly liberated from a housekeeping scalp while the bed was being made. But a few years ago, I found a dirty sock in my bed. If I’m looking for silver linings, it was footless, but a sock nonetheless. That little find actually initiated a stern front desk finger-wagging from yours truly, as well as the quest for new digs for the night.

So much nope.

Please don’t think that these gripes and grievances are signs that I’ve become sour. Because of who I am and what I do, my bond with budget lodging is intrinsic. We’re like family in a way. And just like family members, we might occasionally tussle, but we make it work. We’re in this thing together, and at the literal end of the day, we kind of need each other.

Additionally, for me, travel is very much a “love of the game” kind of endeavor about making memories and appreciating experiences to the extent that I’m capable. Because while taking a curtainless shower might not be preferable to enjoying a soak in a jetted hot tub with a lake view, in its own way, it’s just as memorable. And that sock incident, wholly unforgettable.