What do you mean you don’t have any more washcloths a.k.a. The worst hotel ever

I knew it was going to be bad when the key to the room was a key…

with the room number engraved right on it.

Convenient if you happen to forget which room you’re in, but not so convenient, as the hilarious Matt Kirshen pointed out, should you forget your key at the bar…

I was at an event where the host hotel billed itself as a “resort.” I beg to differ. $178 a nite for a hotel right out of 1960 and a room with no window, no thermostat, and no bath linens.

Where should I start?… How about the 4:15 check in time. Yes, you read right. I got there a little after 1 p.m. and figured at most I’d have to wait until 2 to check in. Nope 4 p.m. There were tons of other people waiting in the lobby too. I went back to my car and waited.

Then when I finally did get into the [tiny ass] room, it was FREEZING. I immediately started looking for the thermostat, but when I couldn’t find it after a few minutes I called down to the front desk for some help.”Are you in the big room or the small room?” the lady asked me. To which I replied, “I can’t imagine this is the big room, so I’m pretty sure I’m in the small one. It’s freezing in here.” She then went on to explain that the thermostat was controlled by the guests in the larger room attached to mine.

“So we have to agree on whether we’re hot or cold?”

“Well, yes ma’am. But there should be an extra blanket in the armoire.”

@%#$ me.

The room had a central air and a ceiling fan — for when the people in the big room are cold and turn up the heat, but the person in the little room is hot.

@%#$ me twice.

My room wasn’t that filthy (please note that ringing endorsement of cleanliness) so I managed to fall asleep for a little bit before I had to perform. But when I woke up and got ready to take a shower, I realized that I didn’t have any washcloths. Just four towels. I called down to the front desk and they told me that they were “out of washcloths right now” and that I could try back in a few hours.

Out of washcloths. No really, out of washcloths at a ‘resort’? Where the hell is Ashton? Y’all I had to take a shower with a body towel. Do you have any idea how heavy that damn thing was once it was wet?

Let’s just say I was not happy.

I really couldn’t bring myself to take a photo of the awful, awful pool. It looked like a great big bowl of hillbilly chowder. I swear I never would have let my children get within 50 feet of that festering mess. And I won’t discuss what fellow comic Kelly McFarland found in her shower… You might be eating.

Suffice it to say that I was looking forward to tomorrow. When I woke up around 10:45 am the next day I called down to the front desk to ask what time check out was, the lady told me 11 am. And I laughed heartily in her ear. Not that I wanted to stay in the room, but $178 for a room I couldn’t check in until after 4 pm and you want me out by 11? Try again. I didn’t tell her I needed a later checkout or anything. I just asked her to send up some washcloths — while silently daring her to say they didn’t have any.

I took a comment card from the front desk, but there wasn’t enough room for all my comments. Perhaps I should just post this blog on hotels.com or something like that.

Yuck, yuck, yuck. And not in a funny way.

The end.