A Tale of Two Hotel Rooms

Not my hotel
Not my hotel

About 9 years ago I realized I’d never spent the night in a motel / hotel room by myself and it bothered me. I’d eaten at a restaurant by myself. I’d seen a movie in a theater by myself. I’d traveled by air, train & car by myself. I felt that the next step to independence was to spend a night in a motel room by myself. I sort of obsessed on it for a few years. Then I forgot about it and moved on to other obsessions.

So when I found myself getting too sleepy to drive another 5 hours last week on my way to visit my relatives in Mississippi and stopped for the night in at the Comfort Inn in Chattanooga, Tennessee I didn’t immediately remember that I’d never stayed in a motel or hotel alone until I was sitting on the love seat of my room eating take-out from a nearby fast food restaurant.

I think the hotel is relatively new — the room was clean and didn’t have that “hotel room” smell that usually makes me wonder what underlying odor it is covering up. The window opened a little, so I was able to get some fresh air. I didn’t bother turning on the air conditioning — it was warm, but not that warm. I had a king sized bed, a spacious and clean bathroom and as far as I could tell, was the only person on my floor. I had a great view of the mountains as well. I slept well and awoke rested for the remainder of the trip. Breakfast, which was included in the modest price of the room was okay — I’d had better.

On the way back from Mississippi I was not sure I was going to stop along the way to sleep. Had I left my Aunt’s house earlier I might have made it all the way home that night, but when I got within 4 hours of my town I hit a heavy rainstorm. Since I hadn’t eaten dinner I thought it best to stop, eat and get some sleep. I again looked for a Choice Hotel — they’d always been reliable. When I saw that Salem, Virginia had a Quality Inn, I took the exit and checked in at the hotel. The front desk staff person was nice. She asked if I minded facing the pool — I said I didn’t mind and was checked into a room very close to the lobby. I didn’t go to my room right away, but got some take out food instead and brought it back to the hotel. I grabbed my overnight bag and computer from the car and headed to the room. The key didn’t work, nor did the second key I was given. Finally the front desk staff person walked to the room and was able to make the key work after a few tries. I didn’t plan on leaving the room until I left the next morning, so didn’t really worry about whether the key would work when I tried it.

The room smelled like a hotel room — that cloying sweet smell that resembles the smell some public bathrooms have. This room had two double beds and a very small, but clean-enough bathroom whose door would not open all the way. The room itself didn’t feel very clean and the carpet near the wall was noticeably dirty.

The room also had a sliding glass door which led to the courtyard which housed a swimming pool. I opened the door, but quickly closed it and tried to figure out how to lock and secure it. I was able to lock it and pull down a inadequate-looking security bar, but the J-shaped lock wouldn’t fit into its security holder. I fretted about this for a while, but ended up feeling semi-safe.

After eating my take-out food (standing up near the table — I didn’t want to sit on the bed and eat and was too lazy to pull the chair closer to the table) I got ready for bed. It was then I noticed the faint splatter of what looked like either dried blood or dried feces on the wall behind the nightstand. My mind immediately raced through all the slasher movies I’d seen in my youth (not that many, but one would have been enough) and tried to work out how the person had been stabbed so the blood would squirt on the wall between the beds. They would have had to been standing in front of the nightstand — maybe talking on the phone. I wondered if the body was somewhere in the room — I checked under the beds and in the drawers. No corpse. I actually hoped the stain was feces instead. In hindsight I think it might have been cola or root beer on the wall. The vending machine doled out plastic bottles, and a hand-written sign did warn consumers to wait a while before unscrewing the cap. I wasn’t thinking too clearly that night, however.

I did a little work then read some email messages on my cell phone. I couldn’t bring myself to shut off the light near the bathroom — I was still nervous about the security of the sliding glass door — so I tried to fall asleep with the light on. Surprisingly, I did fall asleep rather quickly.

I awoke to a woman’s voice and checked my phone to see what time it was. I thought I’d overslept and the woman was calling a child.  The clock on my phone read 3:15. The woman called again, and just as I realized she was saying, “Sir! Sir! Excuse me Sir!” I heard a loud knocking sound from the hotel hallway. I thought the woman was talking to someone in a room close to mine and was knocking on the door. The knocking continued and I wondered if she’d mistaken my room for one that held a man. I walked to the door, calling out, “Who is it”? More knocking, more insistent this time. I asked, “Who is it? What do you want?” Just more knocking. I then realized that I could peek out through the peephole to see who was outside knocking on my door. Since I didn’t have the foresight to grab my glasses before I went to the door, all I know about the person knocking on my door was that it was a man in a long-sleeved dark tee-shirt with writing on the front. I said, “I don’t know you. Go away!” The knocking stopped. The telephone rang. I answered the phone, but no one was on the line.

At this point I was really frightened. Isn’t this when the killer often strikes in slasher movies? I thought maybe he’d gone outside and was going to break into the room through the sliding glass door. Maybe he was already in the room, hiding behind the draperies that covered the door. I hung up the phone and was about to call the front desk when it rang again. This time I shouted, “Who is this? What do you want?” At first there was no answer, then a woman’s voice asked me if I had another guest in my room. I said I did not, but that a man was knocking on the room door. She explained that she just wanted to make sure that he didn’t belong in my room.

I then heard her outside again, asking the man which room he belonged in. He mumbled that he didn’t know.

reek reek reek reek reek reek
I came close to packing up and leaving right then, but was more worried about what was outside the room than what might get inside. I turned on the television and then climbed back into bed — sure that I’d not sleep a wink anymore that night. Again I surprised myself by sleeping for a couple more hours — waking to the sound of my alarm clock at 5:30 am.

I didn’t shower, having seen Psycho several times, ate a quick breakfast (better than the Comfort Inn’s was) and checked out. The front desk staff person, a man this time, asked if everything had been okay. As I began to list the problems, he said, “Oh, I understand you had a little problem last night. So sorry about that. Sorry for the inconvenience.” I replied that I’d been very frightened and he said that the man was found sleeping in the hallway and was drunk or high. He then went on to say that they were concerned about security, but there was nothing they could have done to prevent that — the lobby couldn’t be locked.

So, I’ve had two vastly different nights staying in a hotel alone. I don’t think I’m going to look forward to doing it again anytime soon, thanks to the incident at the Quality Inn of Salem, Virginia.

9 thoughts on “A Tale of Two Hotel Rooms

  1. “Quality” Inn… hmmm, Ive stayed in one of those in Georgia. It wasn’t quality in any form or fashion. Right down there with a Super 8! Glad you are ok!


  2. OMG!!! I’ve stayed in hotel rooms by myself before, luckily nothing like what you experienced ever happened to me. I remember I felt very uncomfortable and had difficulty sleeping. Next time, if there is one, try a Holiday Inn Express, we’ve found them to be exceptionally clean and pleasant. Luv ya, Aunt Ginny


  3. Oh dear. I’m sorry this put you off staying on your own. Having spent (I calculated) over a year travelling on my own on business trips, I can tell you there are lots of good things about staying in hotel rooms on your own.

    1. You can eat on the bed, without guilt.
    2. You don’t have to look after anyone else but you.
    3. You can sprawl out over the bed.
    4. You get all the pillows to yourself.
    5. I always sleep really well on my own – no-one waking me up, snoring, or trying to talk to me when I want to sleep.
    6. You don’t have to wear clothes, or hold your stomach in! (sorry, TMI?)


  4. What a horrible experience. For the record, I call that smell I think you are referring to (in some restrooms) PINK.

    Love this line: “I didn’t shower, having seen Psycho several times…”

    And glad Mali weighed in with the good. Not TMI pour moi.


  5. I can’t believe you had this kind of experience the one (well, second) time you try out a hotel room for yourself. Although it did make for entertaining reading. I generally stay at B&Bs, although if there’s a psycho in one of those one stands even less chance of survival because often there aren’t locks on the doors.


  6. Jeff — I thought so too. Perhaps the gentleman to whom I spoke that morning was not a manager.

    Chirpycat — I thought that sticking with a chain that I’d stayed with before was safe — I guess I thought that a Quality Inn should be a step above a Comfort Inn. I was mistaken.

    Aunt Ginny — I might just try the Holiday Inn Express next time. Thanks for the suggestion.

    Mali — The experience really didn’t make me not want to stay alone again — but I don’t know when I’m going to have the chance anytime soon. Working part-time from home doesn’t offer exciting travel opportunities (even when I worked at an office — or in a classroom — I never got a chance to travel). If the opportunity comes up again, I’ll be ready for it though.

    Loved your list of good things, however, since my husband travels a lot I can do all of that when he’s gone.

    IB — Thanks — PINK, huh?

    Helen — thanks for your comment – I’d not thought about a B&B. (and with that I do recall that I did once spend the night in a B&B alone — a former teaching friend from Illinois and stayed in one (Virginia) Eastern Shore many years ago. I’m almost certain we had our own rooms. Forgot all about that.

    Bridgett — this was actually not the worst hotel/motel experience I’d ever had. Back before kids we traveled to Farmville, Virginia to attend a wedding of our next door neighbors. We were young and inexperienced in the ways of weddings away from home and didn’t pick up on the clue that we could stay in a hotel where other wedding guests were also staying. We rolled into town and found a motel called Bradshaws. It was so disgusting that we didn’t touch the bedspread and wondered about the carpet. The bathroom was basically a huge shower — the showerhead was attached to the a wall and a drain was in the middle of the floor. If you needed to use the toilet after someone showered the bottom of your feet got wet. It was awful and the neighbors laughed that we stayed there — it was a notoriously horrible place to stay.

    Lali — I like your philosophy.


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