This hotel I am working in (different from where I am staying) is terribly perfect. Even if it’s the truth - it’s better to keep names out of public postings. So in place of the hotel name I will use the non offensive words “Septic Handshake”.
Septic Handshake Hotel is inconveniently located in downtown Philadelphia. I really have nothing against the city but this particular hotel is the work of a drab queen (yes, drab). Dull brown walls, dirty chandeliers, sticky brass hand railings and now featuring stained carpets throughout the establishment. What makes this place stand out of the rest has got to be the equally invigorating hotel staff. They are so slow it’s almost painful; like being wrapped in a razor wire Velcro tuxedo waiting in line at a non-air-conditioned DMV in Bakersfield. The sterno heated food is awful. Most hotel food has a certain standard of bad – but here at Septic Handshake they take it to a new level. The egg rolls tasted like a Chinese Salt Lick. I can’t wait what the next culinary installment will be like. Maybe the hamburgers will taste like an uneducated cup holder made of ostrage teets. Either way, this chicken parmesan has no friends; right now my taste buds are the enemy.
I have never seen so many stains on the walls and floors of a hotel. Motel 8 with hourly rates look better than this place. Exposed wire, finger prints, misguided bacon, they have it all. There are huge stains on the carpets obviously from some sort of liquid that was once wet. We overheard that the owners of Septic Handshake are super mega ultra cheap. I’m surprised you don’t have to car pool up the elevator. I think they spray ”liquid truck-stop” in their bathrooms to give that authentic feel. They throw you off guard when you walk in the lobby because at first it does seem like a nice hotel – but give it time, maybe three or four minutes and then that realization hammer of misrepresentation slams into a fire hydrant made of pressurized misfortune and unfiltered catastrophe as it explodes with a giant hand placing it’s soapy middle finger in your mind’s eye.