When JC and I were visiting the fam over Christmas, we stayed in a Travelodge. Overpriced and shabby. Not unlike the last Travelodge I stayed at in Atlanta. Now THAT was an experience. The Travelodge in Atlanta was apparently in a bad enough area that they felt the need to put the rooms behind a security gate.
I had gone to Atlanta to see the WRS, who was visiting from one of those weird European countries. When we were checking into the hotel, the hotel manager was from India or Pakistan (I can never tell), and had a fairly thick accent, but I had no problem understanding him. The WRS, who has a fairly thick Scottish accent, was trying to talk to the guy, and they just could not understand each other. The manager would say something to the WRS, who would then look at me for translation. The WRS would answer, and the manager would look at me for translation. It was actually pretty comical.
After we got to our respective rooms (they had a door in between the two rooms), after we made it through the security gate and was confirmed "guests" by the very large, very mean looking security guard who stands at the gate, we got settled into our really horrible rooms. It was okay though because we really weren't there all that much. That night I was asleep in one room, he was watching TV in the other room (the adjoining door was open though). I was woken up by screeches right outside our rooms. I seriously thought someone was being murdered. I got up, wandered into the WRS's room, who had heard the screaming and yelling as well. We listened for a minute, trying to ascertain if we should hide under the beds or something, when the reason for the screaming became apparent. The resident prostitute, Celine, had apparently had a customer who refused to pay. She was not a happy hooker. After the WRS and I got over our fits of giggles, we continued to listen to them come to some sort of understanding. The laughing started again when we heard the guy tell her he will pay if she would do a particular act for him and his friend.
All went quiet after that.
Except for the continued laughing and the WRS occasionally saying CELIIIIIIIINE. That has become a longrunning joke since then.
Moral of the story: Travelodge Hotels suck donkey dicks.