I’m on vacation with my aunt and two cousins. They are about seven and eight and I’m about sixteen. My aunt is helping my younger cousin get ready, so she asks me to take my other cousin down to the lobby to help her get breakfast.

It’s a basic hotel breakfast: donuts, cereal, yogurt, and stuff like that. I give my cousin a plate and she immediately goes for a donut that’s on a tray. She reaches for one when the tray gets pulled away by a woman standing nearby. 

Woman: *Snarling* “Those are for my kids.”

I then realize she’s taken almost all the donuts and put them on a tray. It has to be at least fifteen donuts. There’s no one else in the lobby and she’s taken all these donuts to take upstairs to her room.

Me: *Deadpan* “Sorry she thought that big tray of donuts was for everyone.”

My friend and I, both girls and around twenty years old, are on holiday in Scotland. We book a room in a bed and breakfast run by a lovely elderly couple, only to realise we’re the only guests they have that week. It feels more like we’re grandkids visiting instead of being strangers.

One night, we decide to do one of the well-known Haunted Walking Tours of the city, where a guide shows you around the historic and “spooky” parts of town at night. We make sure to tell our hosts that we’ll be out all night.

Me: “We wanted to give you a heads-up that we’ll come back pretty late tonight, probably 1:00 am or later because of the tour. We don’t want to spook you when we get in!”

Host “Dad”: “Oh, sure, that’s fine. Just be careful when you walk back. Don’t go through the park; it’s very dark at night.”

We have a great time during the tour and tiptoe up the hallway of the bed and breakfast at 2:00 am, only to be met with a small lamp still on in the shared living room. Host “Dad” is sitting on the couch in a dressing gown reading a book.

Host “Dad”: “Oh, good! You’re back. Now I can go to bed. Everything went all right?”

The old man — and his wife, probably — were so worried about two young girls being out on the town at night that he waited for us until 2:00 am to make sure we got home safe. To this day, it’s one of the sweetest experiences I’ve ever had travelling.

I work the front desk at a hotel, and I get this call.

Me: “Hello, this is [Hotel]. How may I help you?”

Lady: “Hi, I have my cat with me. Are you a pet-friendly hotel?”

Me: “We are a pet-free hotel.”

Lady: “But my cat is cute and fluffy!”

Me: *Face-palms*

I work the overnight shift for a hotel. Usually, it is super quiet because everyone is sleeping. The walls are not soundproof so, occasionally, we get a noise complaint about a TV too loud, people being loud in the hallway, etc.

One night, I received four noise complaints for the same room in five minutes around 1:00 am. I went upstairs with security and knocked on the door. It took ten minutes, but when the guests finally opened the door, I found a live band in the room performing. Needless to say, they all got kicked out of the hotel for the night and banned from coming back.

I have worked in an Indiana college town in a 147-room hotel for about six months. Most of the time things go swimmingly, but the last couple of nights have been doozies thanks to our boilers going AWOL, leaving the hotel without hot water. This left two wedding suites unable to shower comfortably. But that wasn’t the most interesting thing to happen this week. No, that would be tonight.

Around 9:15, someone walks into the hotel and asks for public restrooms. I eye the person, whose appearance and demeanor fit that of the local drug addict population.

Me: “I’m sorry, we don’t have public restrooms.”

Guy: *Barely above a whisper* “I’ll take a room, then.”

This is red flag number one. Normally, people just grumble and walk out. They don’t suddenly switch to wanting to pay $150 for a room. But I click a few buttons on my system and fake looking for rooms.

Me: “I’ll need a credit card and a photo ID.”

The guy pulls out a green BMV-issued ID card — not a license, just an ID card — and a debit card. While we can take debit cards, I’m still suspicious. It is at this point that I notice that the guy’s left hand is covered in fresh blood.

Guy: “I’ll pay for anything, even a suite.”

This is red flag number two. To go from wanting bathrooms to wanting to pay for anything we had just screams, “I’m a junkie and I’m looking for a place to shoot up.” I decide to refuse service for a few reasons: one, there’s no sense in risking him overdosing on whatever his poison of choice is and having a dead-in-room situation; two, there are two weddings in house tonight; and three, there are a lot of kids in house.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re completely sold out.”

This was a blatant lie; we were only at 54% for the night, but I was certain he was looking for a place to shoot up and was going to do whatever it took to do so.

The guy turned around and walked out. My manager, after hearing this, told me I’d done a good job and the night went on as usual. This was a first for me. Feels like I got through a rite of passage for hospitality or something.