John C.
Yelp
Depressing. Pretty much everything is dark gray or black. We stayed for a few cloudy days and it would have worked well for the set of a Hitchcock movie. The train blasting its whistle outside the window was a nice touch reeling us closer to wanting death. The most unfriendly and unhelpful staff ever. I liked one of the valets but the rest should get jobs at a crematorium. Few smiles and little help. Oh, even the room was not helpful. Usually, you find a leather-bound folder with essential information. That didn't exist but they do have wifi but no one gave us the code needed to access that. So I called the desk they weren't sure what it was. I especially liked trying to find the hotel restaurant from our floor. Totally lost I called the desk again and they didn't know how to do it either. They couldn't remember if you go to the end of the hall take an exit door and go down or up. Finally, we found it and were asked if we wanted to sit in the igloo. Hmmm, I thought that sounds like fun so I peered out the window and spied aluminum bars covered in very tired plastic. Of course, it came with a stunning view of sand piles. So reminiscent of tent city and it was only an additional $100. Instead, we joined a pretentious crowd in the main dining room who were intent on making the scene opulent and grandiose. The sounds in the room were imbued with 2 mediocre guitarists playing improvisational jazz loud enough to finally drown out the train whistle. Although, at least the train whistle had breaks between the blasts. These troubadours were relentless attacking their instruments with vigor and occasional dystonic notes hurting our ears, but the posers clapped showing appreciation for the acrid sounds. The prices were so New York chic but these fancy pants posers didn't realize they are in New Hampshire where things should be less costly, much less ostentatious, and much more friendly. I imagine the dining crowd found it so post-post-modern and needed to eat toast covered with what looked like bologna and kale. After all, the Globe, Times, and NPR render them depressed and they need the dystopic setting to lift their spirits while their Prius recharges. Ah, if you stay add the water view to your bill; it is stunning. Massive piles of sand covered in plastic, once in a while an old rusty tug would float by on a river with a couple of creepy bridges to revel in completing the dismal scene. Loved the gray and black panels covering the rectangle-shaped building. Such breathtaking architecture and color scheme. it looked like an 8-year-old with an erector set designed it. The coup de gras was no room service. We asked for towels on the second day. A bag was thrown in the room and the damp towels were not removed I just couldn't wait to tip the housekeeping staff for that courtesy. Walking down the dreary hallway I did see a large lint roller in the cleaning cart (I can only assume they were busy readying for another sucker, I mean guest). What I found troubling about the lint roller was the massive amount of pubic hair on it leading me to wonder if the sheets are ever changed or just roller ready. This all led me to want a drink at the bar. Nothing like sitting in gray and black walls and blasting yourself with a depressant like alcohol. I ordered and was told we are closing in a few minutes. I checked my watch it was 8:42 PM. The savy and unfriendly bartender looked me over and said you have 18 minutes but your welcome to sit and watch the weather channel when I leave. Mmmm, how fitting storms and cars smashing into each other on a big screen TV, who could pass that up? So I ordered. For me straight Irish whiskey. I needed some Irish cheer to come over me. For my wife a Kettle One Cosmo. The whiskey was well, whiskey. My wife's Cosmo was foul. We concluded it was made with grapefruit about 92%. So $36 made me smile. It was less expensive than the outdoor igloo, time was running out, and the drink was bad it all worked together to keep the cost reasonable for my dose of depression. This is truly an unforgettable hotel. I don't think I will ever forget to not come back.
