2/10 Slæmt
8. febrúar 2025
Where comfort comes to die
You arrive here on a cold night with that nasty February drizzle. The sign is off, as if the hotel is trying to hide from its own existence. If Lady Luck smiles upon you, there's a parking spot around the corner.
The revolving door doesn't revolve. A diligent concierge lets you in after a few minutes. Treat him well; he's a good fellow. The reception area is India having a nervous breakdown in Germany. Curry permeates your clothes while Punjabi electronic music assaults your eardrums.
The elevator sometimes works. The sign says it fits six people, but I could barely fit alone - typical German efficiency in packing bodies.
I took the comfort room. Never was a name more appropriate. First thought: "Well, it could be worse." You could be in a Caracas cell or a Cadillac trunk.
The bathroom is clean with hot water. The shower head hangs like a crypto investor after FTX. Fix it with a shoelace or USB cable.
The room is a '90s throwback. The bed was designed by a drill sergeant with a vendetta against comfort. The triangular pillow requires neck gymnastics. Choose between covering shoulders or feet with the short blanket.
They claim soundproofing, but you'll hear your neighbor's every biological function. Perfect if you're paranoid - you'll hear everything in the building.
Breakfast: military-style eggs and sausages. No condiments - bad for health.
Pros:
Roof overhead
Hot water
Kind concierge
Chance to regret life choices
Cons:
Everything else
Julian
Julian, 2 nætur/nátta viðskiptaferð
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