Patrick M.
Yelp
This hotel was the only place in an eight-day, three-thousand-mile road trip where Yelp reviews let us down.
When we walked into the hotel lobby, there was an elderly Japanese man checking in to the hotel through an interpreter (perhaps his grandson). The clerk asked if he minded being above the first floor and, after the question and his answer were translated, she gave him a third-floor room. His interpreter came back two minutes later to ask where the elevator was. She explained that there wasn't one, then told us, after he'd closed the door, "I *asked* if they minded being off the first floor." So she had, but she hadn't bothered to make sure that the elderly man understood that he'd have to carry his heavy-looking suitcase up two steep flights of stairs.
When I got into the room, I thought that the smell might be explained by the room having been recently designated non-smoking. By the time I woke up in the morning, I was convinced it was mold. After getting out of the shower, I thought it might be dead bodies. When I checked out, I was convinced that it was the horrible yet indescribable scent associated with the undead in some vampire novels.
The bed managed the difficult trick of being both too hard and insufficiently supportive. I've slept on a wide variety of hotel beds without problems, but this one left my back and neck stiff for the rest of the day. The pillows on the bed were the thinnest and cheapest I've ever slept on in a hotel.
Rather than putting the bathroom sink in a sensible place, like the bathroom, it's six feet from the bed, and the water is incredibly loud and forceful. The point seems to be that washing your hands when you get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night will inevitably result in a loud rush of water that splashes your sleeping partner on the bed.
There is, in fact, a view of the bay from the window in units that face in the appropriate direction.