What a dump!
Late in July, my wife and I had a dinner and concert reservation at a seaside restaurant in Aptos, CA, and unfortunately made a reservation for one night at the Bayview Hotel. To our everlasting regret, we had not sought out a hotel review for the area.
I don't know where to begin. Well, we arrived at 4:05 pm – 5 minutes after official check-in time. The parking lot was ominously empty with speed bumps that jolted our car even moving at a snail's pace. The hotel itself is an imposing Victorian structure. At first glance it looked quaint; at second glance, aged and unkempt. Next-door was the Norma Jean Café. Didn’t she commit suicide? Had she slept at the Bayview?
We proceeded to the hotel only to find it vacant. The huge restaurant was empty. No one in sight. Finally, a somewhat spacey host emerged and explained that since he was the only one there, we would have to wait a few minutes before he could check to see if our room was ready. Finally, 15 mins later, he led us up a narrow stairway, down a corridor piled with books and magazines, and then to our room. I began to feel romantic.
At first glance the room was small, dumpy, dark. Something was creeping into my heart. It wasn’t romance. We looked about in amazement, too numb to complain (and timid), too pressed for time to consider going somewhere else. We had just time to catch a half hour’s nap before getting ready for our dinner and concert.
I pulled the greasy coverlet off the lumpy bed. My wife and I sank into feathers. It was, at least, comfortable. I closed my eyes but couldn’t sleep. The light from the window was annoying me. I got up to close the drapes. There were no drapes, or shades – just a white brocade see-through material covering the window. There was a veranda outside the window with stairs leading down to the street. Privacy? Ah, no.
I went to the phone to call the spacey host. It rang and rang, and rang, and rang. In disgust I took the greasy coverlet and hung it over the window. I plopped back down on the bed. I couldn’t sleep. I noticed for the first time a huge plant high up on the opposite wall. Was it covered with snow? Ah, no. Dust. I started to cough. In the dim light it looked like a spider about to leap.
I got up and glanced over the room again. The grey rug was filthy, stained with blotches. I’d have to walk around in socks. A latch was dangling from the inner bathroom door and swung like a miniature pendulum when the door was opened.
Since my wife wasn’t sleeping either, I pressed the power button on the TV. Nothing. Two cords were unplugged from the wall outlet. I put them in and had to cycle through the cable options before I could get it to work. Also, no remote. I checked the drawers to find a channel guide. Instead I found a magazine over a year old.
The bathroom, a cubbyhole with a tiny sink, toilet and shower stall, had no drapes on the window either. Looking out was a lovely view of old paints cans on the veranda. What room had been recently painted? Why didn’t we get that room?
The toilet paper roll was half full. Would it be enough? Frankly, I tend to use a lot. I tried room service again. It rang and rang and rang. I hung up and decided I would talk to the spacey host on the way out about all the problems.
After getting dressed, we went downstairs. No one there. I called out. Nothing. I would have to complain after we returned.
The dinner at the seaside restaurant was great as was the concert. We returned to the hotel at about 10pm. The parking lot was dark, the speed bumps again jolted the car and hurt my lower back. The hotel was dark was well. There were only two or three other cars parked. This was a Saturday night. Where were all the guests?
Walking to the door, in the night, the formerly quaint Victorian Bayview Hotel began to look more like the Bates Motel in the Hitchcock movie. We laughed nervously and joked about meeting Norman at the entrance.
Everything was eerily quiet. We made out way up the creaking stairs to our room. I began to cough. I turned on the light. The ceiling fixture was missing one of its three light bulbs. The artificial plant high up on the wall now looked like a huge black raven. I could swear I saw something move. Did Poe spend a night hear and was this the inspiration for his famous poem? One artificial plant hung on a wall looked like a funeral wreath.
With the veranda outside and the windows having loose locking latches, I suddenly felt nervous and vulnerable. I propped a suitcase to the inside knob of the door. We undressed and went to bed. I always bring my trusty metal flashlight for protection and laid it out on the floor. I slept fitfully, ready to grab it and bang any intruder on the head. In the morning, I vowed, there would be a reckoning.
My wife hadn’t slept well either. Bleary eyed, we went down at 9am for our free breakfast. The spacey hostess was there but no one else. Were we the only guests??? I wanted to eat before I said anything derogatory – I didn’t them want to add anything “abnormal” to the eggs. We ordered the standard freebie: two eggs, hash browns, and “Italian toast.”
While waiting for our order I noticed how dirty the carpet of the restaurant was. It needed vacuuming. A huge black, glossy stain attracted my eyes. I tried not to look at it. I stared outside the window instead. A mistake. The garden surrounding a huge magnolia tree was unkempt. Dried leaves and paper littered the walkway around it. Next to the tree was a flap pole. A breeze caught the flag and it flutter out showing its holes and shreds – as if it had been flying since the Civil War. Very fitting I thought.
I glanced back at my wonderful wife, who is normally loathed to complain about anything. The tablecloth was clean at least. Give credit where credit is due I always say. I began to feel better. However, between us was a small vase with water and flowers: dead flowers, dried, old, crusty. I moved the vase away.
Our food came. My wife’s eggs were as ordered -- runny. Mine were runny as well – not as ordered. They refried the eggs. I bit into the “Italian Toast.” It was an old dried piece of bread. I pushed it toward the vase with the dead flowers. My wife ate her eggs and blackened sausage with gusto. I hoped she wouldn’t get sick.
We finished eating and left the table. The host was nowhere in sight. I had written down all the problems with the room and was going to show him.
-- No drapes on the windows for privacy
-- Dirty rug
-- No extra toilet paper
-- Artificial plants that hadn’t been dusted for years
-- Lighting fixtures missing bulbs
-- Inadequate window locks
-- Entry door without inner bolt
-- No tv remote
-- No tv guide
-- No bathroom soap
-- No response to phone calls for room service
I left out the less annoying things.
I found the waitress who explained that the host was cooking and couldn’t come out for 5 minutes. I felt bad about complaining because my wife had paid for the room; I had paid for the dinner. Besides, my stomach began to feel queasy and I decided I wanted to buy pepto bismo for myself and my wife as soon as possible. Pepto Bismo contains bismuth subsalicylate which kills food borne bacteria if taken before meals and sometimes if taken soon after. We hurried out.
I glanced back at the Bates Motel. Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”
This review is the subjective opinion of a TripAdvisor member and not of TripAdvisor LLC
