Check-out.
The staff, the defunct air conditioning, literally everything
The Ibis Budget in Toulouse is as welcoming as a mausoleum. After booking and paying online, the sweaty troll behind the empty-upon-arrival reception desk told me I owed1.60 in tax. Being an agreeable sort, I pulled out a--- bill, the lowest denomination I had on me. In Toulouse this is apparently Monopoly money, as the receptionist threw his hands into the air, proclaiming 'non non non I only accept money', to which I responded 'its either this or a--- bill'. I paid by Mastercard. To further compound my enjoyment of this hotel, I opened the door to my room and was greeted with a musty smell that I imagine could only come from the unwashed armpits of a gorilla. In the room were two single beds, a sink, a TV and 2 doors. I opened door number 2 and was immediately mentally transported to the airplane I flew on to get to France. In the exact same plastic coffin as the shower was a one-piece plastic toilet. My girlfriend and I are much closer now because she is claustrophobic and had to use the bathroom with the door open. The bed was comfortable enough, so long as you don't sit down too hard and give yourself a spinal tap, and the covers were no more than a scratchy bodybag with a duvet shoved inside Other things my girlfriend is afraid of: spiders. Bring a flyswatter, it makes dispatching the cornucopia of bugs in the room much more efficient. On the second night I decided to turn on the air conditioner. This is where the musty smell was coming from, and I think I would rather have a fire on my face put out with a rake than see a detailed analysis of whatever I breathed in from the machine. On top of that, on the coldest setting it spat out humid, tepid temperature air with the force of a 3-days-dead asmathic 90 year old's breath.
