A Marriot in Carlsbad (near San Diego, CA). Had been warned it was undergoing renovation. Was there for an early business meeting, staying just one night. It was in a business park close to the customer site, with nothing much nearby. Not too many other choices.
Turned out the faucets randomly would stop working and the toilet sometimes wouldn’t flush. Inconvenient, but nothing terrible.
Was told at the desk the restaurant was under construction, but there would be food available in the morning. Next morning, it turned out the whole thing was walled off with a long thick wall of plastic sheeting, running floor to ceiling. It was early, but you could hear drilling and hammering noises from behind it.
There was a server standing in front of the plastic sheet, behind a foldout table. There was a single laminated menu. She said they were limited in what they could make. It came down to toast or breakfast burrito. I asked for a coffee and a burrito. She dialed a number on her cell and read out the order. Said their card reader wasn’t working and took down my room number.
A few minutes later, someone came back through the plastic sheet, carrying a small styrofoam cup, a plain cardboard carryaway box, and plastic utensils. I asked where I could eat and she pointed at the visitor lounge seats in the lobby area.
The coffee was tepid and weak (possibly from the day before). Inside the box was a thick, white, room-temp tortilla, half-filled with smooth textured scrambled eggs – possibly from powder mix. That was it, except for the ungodly glop of beige, flavorless, lumpy gravy ladled over the whole thing.
I was in a hurry to make my meeting. Took one bite, took a picture to send my wife, and pitched the whole thing in the bin. Raced to check out. Saw there was a $25 food charge on the room. Screw it. Expensed it.
That was the last time I ever ate hotel breakfast, even when it was included. Back then I was traveling a lot for work. I made a point of looking for a nearby diner, preferably a neighborhood joint. Haven’t regretted it once.
A Marriot in Carlsbad (near San Diego, CA). Had been warned it was undergoing renovation. Was there for an early business meeting, staying just one night. It was in a business park close to the customer site, with nothing much nearby. Not too many other choices.
Turned out the faucets randomly would stop working and the toilet sometimes wouldn’t flush. Inconvenient, but nothing terrible.
Was told at the desk the restaurant was under construction, but there would be food available in the morning. Next morning, it turned out the whole thing was walled off with a long thick wall of plastic sheeting, running floor to ceiling. It was early, but you could hear drilling and hammering noises from behind it.
There was a server standing in front of the plastic sheet, behind a foldout table. There was a single laminated menu. She said they were limited in what they could make. It came down to toast or breakfast burrito. I asked for a coffee and a burrito. She dialed a number on her cell and read out the order. Said their card reader wasn’t working and took down my room number.
A few minutes later, someone came back through the plastic sheet, carrying a small styrofoam cup, a plain cardboard carryaway box, and plastic utensils. I asked where I could eat and she pointed at the visitor lounge seats in the lobby area.
The coffee was tepid and weak (possibly from the day before). Inside the box was a thick, white, room-temp tortilla, half-filled with smooth textured scrambled eggs – possibly from powder mix. That was it, except for the ungodly glop of beige, flavorless, lumpy gravy ladled over the whole thing.
I was in a hurry to make my meeting. Took one bite, took a picture to send my wife, and pitched the whole thing in the bin. Raced to check out. Saw there was a $25 food charge on the room. Screw it. Expensed it.
That was the last time I ever ate hotel breakfast, even when it was included. Back then I was traveling a lot for work. I made a point of looking for a nearby diner, preferably a neighborhood joint. Haven’t regretted it once.