THE washington inn

imagine a young, would-be hotelier, who has great taste but no money or experience, decides to open a boutique hotel. he or she scoops up some property in an awkward, industrial district of oakland, buys all the best furnishings target has to offer, outfits several rooms in a former boarding house, hires a fabulous photographer to take pictures, and then cuts the giant, red ribbon on opening day. the washington inn is born. and left to die.

you see the pictures snapped before opening day and decide to visit. after snaking your way through oakland, looking in vain for an area that even remotely looks like it could house a hotel, you give up and decide to kill the engine in some temporary parking until you - hey - is that...the hotel?

yep. inside, the lobby furniture and bar feel out of place, like temporary stand-ins for whatever is normally there. maybe this used to be a bank? an old masonic temple? whatever it was, it’s now quieter than death; you find yourself whispering to the front desk guy. he hands you your key and gestures toward the elevator, a windy, open-sided contraption of the 1930s warehouse variety. thankfully, the doors open on the third floor like they're supposed to. ah, the hallway looks normal. thank goodness. maybe the lobby was just a little off. around the corner, you find room 307. you insert the key and lean into the door to open it, but - whoops - you stumble in after discovering the door to your room is apparently made of balsa wood. it looks and feels like it was bought en masse from the bargain bin at home depot.

yikes! what is that lumpy mass in the middle of the floor?! oh. it’s the bed. and look! someone has laid out a nice grid of softballs under the duvet (which has no duvet cover). the softballs are actually soft balls…stuffing that has worked its way into fluffy mounds about six inches high at the center of each of the duvet’s quilted squares. interesting. almost as interesting as the rainbow of stains on the carpet, the threadbare sheets, and the fiberboard nightstand/armoire set.
oops. you almost forgot about your car in temporary parking. just a quick call to the front desk to find out where to move it…and…really? i see. those two-hour meters are the only parking. good thing they are free overnight, but you hadn’t planned on getting up at 7:00 a.m. to go plug them and then move your car around the block very two hours. oh, well. you hold your breath and resign yourself to the fact that you have to get in that bed, then fall asleep kind of.

hey! turns out there’s no problem getting up at 7:00. in fact, a fleet of garbage trucks and unloading semis gets you up just fine at 6:00! might as well grab some of the free breakfast while you're up plugging the meter. but which pre-wrapped danish to choose?

with the remains of the pre-wrapped danish still clawing at the back of your throat, you pull back the shower curtain and are instantly transported back to your college days, since when you have never wished so earnestly for shower shoes. alas, you'll just have waddle around on your heels so as to keep the majority of your foot surfaces from coming into contact with whatever leftover fungus may be growing on those vintage tiles. now, a quick dry with one of the mismatched, shredded towels, and you're almost ready to tackle san fran!