Full Credits

Stats & Data

May 04, 2011

A humorous, literal documentation of one man's desperate attempt to escape from Hotel California. He can check out all he wants, but he'll never leave. . . Or will he?

I've been staying at the Hotel California for almost a week now. What a shit hole. First of all, it's this old, mission style building in the middle of nowhere. Second of all, the service here is horrible! Probably the worst I've ever experienced. I've followed their policy of "check out any time you like" several times but somehow I I'm still here. What's the deal? They better not be billing me for all this extra time I'm spending. I've also recently begun to think this is some kind of weird cult epicenter / time vortex. It's kind of like that movie, Groundhog Day.

I ended up at this place a few nights ago when I finally just needed somewhere to sleep after driving for 9 hours straight. I was on my way to a wedding or something. I can't recall very well what it was now, but either way, I'm pretty sure I missed it. An attractive lady met me at the entrance, and showed me to my room. At least I thought she was attractive. She was only holding a candle after all, which reminds me; where the hell is the electricity in this joint? Come on, people, it's 2011. Anyways, that's how I got here.

This place smells like wet basement and mothballs. It's also pretty annoying getting awakened in the middle of the night to a bunch of drunken idiots singing the same song over and over. I can also hear it whenever I walk down a corridor: "Welcome to the Hotel California! Such a lovely place!" blah, blah blah. If they ever took a look around, they might realize what a dump this place really is. I'm guessing it must be some cheesy hotel marketing ploy. Apparently there's also plenty of room available here. Kind of makes me wonder how The Hotel California stays in business. It's gotta be something to do with how people just can't leave this place. The overcharge rate must be ridiculous. That reminds me; I should probably cancel my credit card. I would if I could get phone service here. Man, this place sucks!

Another thing that's really creeping me out is the chick who's always dancing with some dude in the courtyard. Doesn't she ever get tired or hungry? She came by my room the other night and told me this 
ridiculous story about how everyone here is a prisoner of their own device. Well, if almost falling asleep at the wheel on a desert highway is my 'device' then I'm guilty as charged, sister. Honestly, I think she was on drugs.

The people I do try to talk to don't seem very honest either. The last guy I talked to told me he was here to research glaciers. It's pathetic how little sense that makes all the way out here in the desert. Sounds like the only thing this guy brought to The Hotel California was a crappy alibi. I didn't even let him finish. I just got up and went back to my room. And speaking of the rooms, can we say low budget 70's porno? I mean, there's mirrors on the ceiling for crying out loud, and what's with the pink champagne? This is the last place I'd want to be getting drunk. Bunch of weirdos.

It really bothers me how I can't get room service here for the life of me. Everybody I asked told me to go see this "Captain" person and when I finally found him, he turned out to be some overweight, die hard 
Jimmy Buffet fan wearing an old sailor hat who, judging by his hole riddled concert t-shirt, hadn't been to a Jimmy Buffet concert since 1982. He's also a wino who reeks of alcohol and vintage Old Spice aftershave, always carrying around a bottle of wine that he claims is a vintage '69. What a loser.

Just when I thought this place couldn't possibly get any more strange, I go to the cafeteria, what everybody else refers to as "The Masters Chamber" for some reason, and there's this gigantic beast in there tied to the ground and squirming like crazy. What the hell?! I don't even know what this thing was, but it definitely wasn't from planet Earth. And then everybody starts stabbing at it with their knives and 
forks. I mean, these people must have been absolutely starving. Just goes to show how poor the service is here. Either way, it didn't look like they were doing a good job of killing it. That's when I decided to just get the hell out of here. No checking out. Just getting into my car, driving away and never looking back. In fact, tearing out the rearview mirror was in order.

So, anyways, that was yesterday and yep, you guessed it, I'm still here. At least this guy who called himself The Night Man was honest with me on my way out. He cleaned off the dirty sign in the lobby that 
read "Check out any time you like," only to reveal the small subhead that read, "But you can never leave". Great. Just great. That sign would have been incredibly helpful when I first got here almost a week ago.

If I ever escape, I'm going to give this place the worst customer review in the history of customer reviews. In fact I'm going to write a song about this place. It's going to be one of the most legendary songs ever made and then everybody will be singing about what a strange, crappy place this Hotel California is and nobody will ever stay here again. That should shut this place down for sure.

And another thing. Why does every calendar in this place say that it's 1975? Man, what a bunch of losers.