ramada

smoking?

You know dad's blogs about Ramoda?Well I know something he forgot!About half the people working there smoked!I sat down at a table to eat my muffin, and I smelled smoke.I look over my shoulder,and what do I see?some people that worked there smoking!Ewww....And I hope everyone that DOES work there sees this!

Entry stairway

Entry stairway

The dog poop in the stairwell perfectly summed up my feelings on the whole experience.

Hairdryer in bathroom

Hairdryer in bathroom

Who has free hair? Ramada has free hair!

Vent in spa room ceiling

Vent in spa room ceiling

"What's that smell, Daddy?"

"Why, that's Legionella, darling!"

Bathroom ceiling

Bathroom ceiling

I have never been to prison, but I think this is what the shower would look like.

Entry to Hotel Hell

Entry to Hotel Hell

Nope, it wasn't being remodeled. It was just naturally ugly.

Entry to Hotel Hell

Entry to Hotel Hell

I would have liked to have thought that this is the part of the hotel they were remodeling. It isn't. We never actually found that part.

Patio window

Patio window

This window was almost opaque in parts. Jake still managed to walk into it, though, so maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought.

Bedroom floor

Bedroom floor

Again, there is no way this has been vacuumed in recent memory.

Bedroom heater

Bedroom heater

More grime in the heater. At least it stunk less than I would have expected.

Bedroom heater

Bedroom heater

I wished that was paint overspray from the remodeling, but it was just more dirt.

Bedroom floor

Bedroom floor

The previous tenants were kind enough to leave us presents. Who couldn't use more beer bottlecaps?

Bathroom

Bathroom

There's a hole in the toilet, dear Liza, dear Liza.

Yes, a hole. The little foot under the toilet lid was burrowing its way out, probably in a vain attempt to escape the squalor.

Bathroom

Bathroom

You cannot make me believe that's been vacuumed since Bill was President.

Slumming it at the Ramada

We recently stayed at the Ramada Inn of Kearney, Nebraska. When we arrived, the clerk told me they'd overbooked the hotel and had already sold our room (which we'd guaranteed with a credit card) to someone else. In retrospect, I should have just left and gone elsewhere.

The place was dirty. As in filthy. As in we were afraid to touch stuff. After a while, it was like being in a third world country. I mean, you stop taking the filth as a personal affront and begin seeing it as an adventure. What's around the corner? Who knows, but we'll take a picture of it!

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