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“One night in a famed bungalow, a home away from home for countless screenwriters and directors and movie stars, all for a special birthday night, with stained carpeting, non functional light switches and a heated toilet seat that makes your ass sweat.”
At a Hampton Inn. It seems like a perfect storm of dirt, grime, dust and ectoplasm.
At a tap house restaurant. Fortunately the turkey bacon club arrived already cut.
A little swash of plasma, almost certainly from a bloody nose, and missed by housekeeping. At a hotel in Salt Lake City.
On a couch at a $179 a night room in beautiful El Centro.
From a flight attendant at a non-IHG, non-Bonvoy, non-Ramada, non-Hilton, non-Hyatt chain, but still a chain (figure it out) in central Illinois
Not sure what this is or why it was there. In room between dresser and refrigerator stand behind a lamp. Not sure if it is forbidden play dough or someone else but I sure wasn’t getting close enough to find out, so you’ll have to zoom in to take a guess
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