Location is good, just as the checkin. And it’s cheap, dirt cheap.
So cheap that you won’t care about the furniture
falling apart, about the hand dryer hanging on the ceiling, about the fridge that gets hot and the iron that doesn’t, about the rusting shower, about that they don’t seem to know the difference between hair and pubes looking at the installation height of the shower head,…
Well beware, beware of the neighbour underneath who likes a party. And not just a party, with his excellent techno taste, powered by a sound system that would make the average club jealous, he literally shakes you out of bed.
As the night evolves into the morning, beware as well for the neighbour next door, a lawyer, who sounds more like a judge. I won’t even start about her awful ringtone, followed by shouting phone calls while she hops around in her noisy heels.
With the villain neighbours attacking you from every side of your small liveable shoebox (completely made out of cardboard obviously), you’re vacillating between complaining to the host or jumping out of the window.
Conveniently the bedroom doesn’t have any plug, so after a (never answered) message to the host followed by a drained phone battery, the choice was made.
Mom, dad, I’ve always loved you!