Checking into this motel felt like I’d accidentally wandered onto the set of a low‑budget crime documentary. The “front desk” is literally a glass window with a tiny slot—exactly like those after‑hours gas stations where you start questioning your life choices. There’s no indoor area, so you stand outside like a soggy raccoon while the clerk checks you in. It was raining when we arrived, so I got the full “nature shower” experience during check‑in.The parking lot? Imagine a single, narrow driveway that serves as both the entrance and the exit. One wrong turn and you’re either stuck forever or starring in a three‑point‑turn horror film.There’s also zero roof coverage when entering the rooms. Since it was raining, we basically splashed our way into the room like we were entering a submarine. To be fair, the room looked clean and spacious. Other reviews even bragged about the lack of roaches, which at this point felt like a luxury.Then came the bed. Oh, the bed. At first glance, it seemed fine—until I realized the sheets were… let’s say “mysteriously lived‑in.” Two very thin pillows, one of which had a bonus strand of hair. The only blanket was a flimsy sheet, so we ended up using the bedspread like a survival tool. Throughout the night, I could smell the questionable history of that mattress.The next morning, I woke up with an infection on my chin. Turns out it was a staph infection that developed from a blemish. Yes. I got a STAPH INFECTION from staying at this motel. Five stars for drama, zero stars for hygiene.