The hotel has no hot water.

Every year, Red Jesus and I travel to Arizona for Spring Break. Amongst the company of other guys, we say it's 'cause Arizona is a great party school and there's nothing like rolling in hay with a Wildcat. But the reality is we're both obsessed with baseball and love to spend a week in Phoenix while the players prepare for the upcoming season. Occasionally we bring someone with us to share the experience and the expense. This year we brought The Albino Janitor.

Every year is an adventure. Between rubbing elbows with the ballplayers and enjoying McDonald's in a different state, I always come home with a story. Last year, the hotel made interesting tale because it spared every expense. Prior to that experience, I have never come across a cheaper or more poorly run hotel--and I've stayed at Motel 6. I chalked it up to crummy management. After all, I have firsthand experience dealing with cheap-ass hotel owners. The hotel we stayed at last year was a national brand--no company in its right mind would be successful if it was as frugally run as that one. And despite all of our horrors, I couldn't remember the hotel's brand because--quite frankly--it was an experience I didn't wanna remember. That tidbit of missing knowledge bit us in the ass this year.

Immediately when we pulled in the parking lot, Red Jesus and I recognized the brand--the same as last year. While it was a different hotel, it bore the same name as last year's cheap hole. Red Jesus expressed immediate concerns, but I assured him last year's experience was due to poor management and that this hotel couldn't be nowhere near as bad.

Next time I am forced to eat my words, I am going to request that I at least be allowed some ketchup.

This hotel had the same polices as the last one: no soap, shampoo, or room service. They didn't even have a bloody lobby where I can relax in (I spent many hours writing on a park bench in my underwear--what is it about folks in my family that like strutting in our underwear).

After a long day of driving, I developed a massive headache--it was only natural (sitting in a car for six hours with Red Jesus could do that to anyone). We had dinner and bought some food, but it only made things worse. A little after nine, everyone agreed they were beat and we decided to call it a night.

The thing was, I couldn't relax--I kept thinking about how much my head hurt. I needed something to do to relax me--something to take my focus away from the sweltering pain in my melon. A hot shower sounded very relaxing so I gathered my belongings and headed to the bathroom.

All showers are different and hotels are no exception. I turned on the shower and fiddled with the knobs trying to find hot water. After making various adjustments, I came to the conclusion that the shower only emitted cold water and colder water. I tried the bathroom and kitchen sink: same thing--only cold and colder water.

Words are my weapon and I am a master manipulate. I knew going to the front desk and raising hell would get me nowhere (plus, I am an idiot and there's always a chance I was doing it wrong). I called the front desk but no one answered (which shouldn'tve been too big of a surprise from last year's events). Since I am a man of action and I needed something to do to keep me from thinking about the throbbing pain coming from the location which used to be my brain, I threw on a set of underwear and went to the hotel lobby (again with the underwear).

The clerk immediately knew what the problem was. She assured me that a plumber would be out to look at the problem in about an hour. I knew yelling at her would get me nowhere--it wasn't here fault. I politely thanked her for her effort and went to bed smelly and sticky. Luckily, we had hot water the following morning.

Alas, that wasn't the end of our problems. Two days later, there was no hot water when we woke up. This wasn't a problem for me since I'm a night showerer. But for Red Jesus and The Albino Janitor, this was disastrous. After all, we were facing five hour car ride home. They spent the previous day sweating in the hot sun. Come to think of it, I'm the one who had to spend the day with them in the car: this wasn't their problem--it was mine.

What were to odds of this hotel not having any hot water the day we arrived and the day we left? I'd say pretty slim unless the hotel continuously had hot water problems. I know a thing or about the hotel business--after all, I used to work there. Hotel owners are cheap mofo--right up there with Jews and born again Jews. Give the choice between the cheap option that might work and the expensive option that will work, most owners will opt for cheap. It makes sense for them. Hotels aren't exactly dependant on repeat business. Most of the time people go to a hotel while traveling. If they have a miserable experience and vow not to come to that particular hotel again, it's really no loss to the hotel. After all, what were the odds of that particular person coming back anyway?

Granted, there are different kinds of hotels. Those über expensive fancy hotels will never opt for that business philosophy. But the affordable hotels--they kind of places where I can afford to stay--do. I'm not talking those super-cheap roach motels (although those are even worse). I'm talking about you're average, $100-a-night hotel. Even brand names are bad ‘cause they're usually franchised to a cheap owner.

I went to the front desk to express my concerns and got met with a world of attitude. I know a thing or two about tactfully complaining--especially since it probably wasn't the manager's fault. But you know the saying..."the squeaky wheel gets the oil." If I didn't complain, this hotel would probably continue its frugal ways and continue to screw over customers (maybe if someone complained before me, we wouldn'tve had to shower in cold water).

I thought I was tactful. I didn't place blame on anyone. I just let the manager know that I was disappointed. The last thing I was expecting was for her to go off on me.

"What do you want from me? I don't expect you to pay for a night without hot water so I won't charge you for last night. But what else do you want? Do you want me to try and fix it? I don't know how to fix boilers but I can try. What else can I do? What else do you want?"

Wow--talk about flying off the handle. I went down there hoping she might have another room with a shower we could use. I wasn't looking for a free night (although wouldn't turn it down). She probably had people laying into her all morning about the hot water issue. After all, there's really only two things one expects when checking into a hotel: hot water and a comfortable bed--those are the two biggest essentials. Everything else is just frosting on the cake.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, you're pretty good. Fool me three times? Drug test me for stupid pills and lock in the basement. Next year we're staying somewhere with class--like the bus station. The name of that hotel has since been tattooed on Red Jesus' ass--a name I'll always see and never forget.

© 2007 siknerd.com