Gæstebruger
30. juni 2025
Our stay at The Inn at Mattei's Tavern was an absolute disaster from start to finish, turning what was supposed to be a luxurious getaway into a frustrating, filthy ordeal that sent us packing within hours. For $4,400, we booked a two-bedroom suite, expecting top-tier service and accommodations. Instead, we got incompetence, miscommunication, and a room so disgusting we couldn’t stomach staying. The trouble started before we even arrived. I called en route to confirm details about the dedicated poolside cabana included with our suite, as advertised on their website. Virginia, the first staff member I spoke with, had no clue what I was talking about. I had to read the website verbatim to her before she reluctantly agreed. She then transferred me to Hannah at the front desk, who was equally clueless. I read the website to her too, and only then did she acknowledge the cabana. How does a “luxury” hotel have staff completely unaware of their own amenities? The room was also supposed to come with a dedicated Mercedez Benz, as per the website, not 1 mention about the Mercedes by any of the staff members upon check in. We arrived early at 1:00 PM, only to be told our room wasn’t ready but would be by 4:00 PM at the latest. They directed us to the cabana to spend the day by the pool, which was the one thing that went as expected. But by 4:30 PM, we hadn’t received a single call or update about our room. I had to get out of the pool, dry off, get dressed, and march to the front desk, where I learned the room had been ready for who-knows-how-long. Why promise to notify us and then drop the ball? It’s basic hospitality. The real horror show began when we finally got to the room. Within 15 minutes, my son noticed the bottoms of his feet were completely black. We checked ours—same thing. Every single one of us had filthy, coal-black soles from walking on the hardwood floors. Upon inspection, it was clear these floors hadn’t been cleaned in months. They weren’t just dirty; they were gritty, like sandpaper, with more traction than a hiking trail. Clean hardwood is supposed to be smooth, not a health hazard. It was so bad we couldn’t walk to bed without our feet getting filthy again. Shower, step out, dirty again—rinse and repeat. Disgusting doesn’t even begin to cover it. I called the front desk to complain, and they sent the maintenance manager, who had the audacity to insist the floors “do get cleaned.” Really? Then why were all our feet black? Sweeping isn’t enough—hardwood needs mopping, and clearly, they’re cutting corners. His empty assurances did nothing to address the grime we were standing in. At that point, I started wondering what other shortcuts this place was taking. If they can’t clean a floor, what’s happening in the kitchen or with the bedding? I wasn’t about to stick around to find out. This place calls itself a luxury hotel, but that’s as laughable as calling Pergo faux-wood flooring “hardwood.” It’s a facade. We checked out immediately,
Oversæt