The Sands Motel

If I could give this place less than one star, I would.
When we checked in to our «non-​smoking» room, it stank like smoke. BAD. So badly, in fact, that we had to get air freshener with which to spray the room. The refrigerator was broken, it obviously hadn’t worked in quite a while as it was moldy inside and smelled like something had died. We immediately informed the front deak, as we had brought cold food with us, knowing we would have a refrigerator available.
Well, they didn’t come to fix it the first night, and they didn’t come to fix it the SECOND night. When I complained as I was paying for the third night, the woman at the front desk said she had «forgotten». When my husband returned to the room that evening, HE complained and they finally moved us next door where there was a working fridge. It wasn’t as nice as our room, and all our food had long since spoiled, but at least my diet coke was cold.
The kicker came at nine-​thirty the next morning. I was asleep in bed when the door to the room had opened (there was a privacy sign hung on the knob, but I guess he didnt care) and a very angry man waked in. He started yelling at me, «Who are you? Why are you here? What are you doing in this room!?» Having just been woken up, I was a little confused. I asked him who he was (the manager) and what he wanted (for me to leave) and I sat on the edge of the bed in my underwear trying to figure out what was wrong with him. I thought maybe they had forgotten they’d moved us, so I tried to explain to him that I was the lady from next door, with the broken refrigerator. He just kept screaming at me that I didn’t belong there and that he was calling the police!
It turns out, my husband had just called to inform him that we would need a slightly later than normal check out, he had been detained at work, and we’d like to stay an extra hour, maybe two. So, the manager decided he needed to come into my room and harass me in my underwear. He tried to say I had to go immediately because I wasn’t on the paperwork for the room. I’m not really sure HOW that worked out, because *I* payed for the room, personally. At the front desk. Not my husband. Which I tried to explain to the manager. As I sat there half asleep. In the dark. In my FREAKING UNDERWEAR. While he screamed at me and called me a liar and threatened to call the cops.
When my husband got there and went to the office, of course the story changed. The manager said he had never come in the room, that he hadn’t said he was calling the police, he hadn’t yelled at me or called me a liar, that it was all my misunderstanding. BULLSHIT.
Needless to say, we aren’t coming back. It was a mediocre room at a less than average motel with shitty service and a *clearly* mentally disturbed staff.

This place is a dump. All motels in the area were sold out and I could not find a room. I called them and they had vacancy, but would not except a credit card over the phone for same day reservation. In a bind for a room, I left my job to go there to secure the room. I checked I and paid with credit card. Later in the evening the front desk called and said that I needed to go and get cash to pay for the room, their phone lines were being changed and my credit card couldn’t be processed. How unprofessional, and the room was a dump indeed!!!’