3.75
I promise the star rating will make sense once you've read the review. Bear with me.
So, I had to flee Florence. My AirBnB was a scouting location for Hostel, This Time It's Saw-tastic. I couldn't in any way with what was going on there so I stayed up all night with a really good friend and looked for trains out of town (I would pay anything) back to Rome. After finding one, I checked with my rock star Roman AirBnB host to see if his flat was still available. Of course it wasn't. I knew I should have squatted and refused to leave. That left me with the task of finding a last minute hotel room... in Rome... in mid-fall (which was more of a season than I imagined). I braced myself for a brutal bill... and then I remembered the commercial for one of those hotel sites. Having nothing to lose, I plugged in a price, desired area and timeline and... what was this? A pretty pretty princess hotel for a price that was reasonable (very much so in light of the circumstance). Not wanting to think too much about it, I booked it, rocked back and forth until sunlight shone upon Firenze, walked the streets like a Walking Dead extra, got my bags, and hopped on a train back to Rome (unwashed, haggard and first-world traumatized).
I arrived back in Rome and opted for a taxi out of the train station. I had neither the time nor the energy to deal with Uber (even if it might save me some bucks). I arrived at the hotel and... what was this? It was so pretty! First off, I am a Prati kind of guy: high-end, sophisticated, moneymoneymoney.... this is the Rome I can get used to. Don't get me wrong, I dig the cool of Trastevere and the honest grit of Pigneto... but I'm old and tired. I'm at the point of my life where I want a doorman, plush things and high thread-count sheets. So, looking at the cobblestone street and impressive doorway, I knew that Hotel dei Mellini and I would get along fabulously. REMEMBER how I came to the hotel: scraggly, defeated and run out of town. I'd looked better. I'd smelled better. But, I was here.
The front desk clerk was not happy I was here. I get it. I looked more than a mess. But I had a reservation, money and that should have been enough. The check-in process was lengthy and not all that warm but it finally concluded. A porter arrived to help me with my bags. I got to my room and... this was not what I saw on the internet. This was small, drab, had no view, and reminded me of a prison cell. Dejected, I thought, 'Well, at least I am out of that Florentine death trap.' At that point, it dawned on me to check the hotel's web site. Surely I didn't book The W, only to stay in a Super 8. Aha! I knew it! That [redacted] booked me in the wrong [redacted] room. I had come way too far and through too much NOT to get the superior room I'd booked. I called down to the front desk and spoke with another clerk (a woman). I strained to put on my most kind and patient voice. I explained that there must have been a mistake. I booked a Superior Room and had been given a janitor's closet. The clerk placed me on hold, came back on the phone and let me know that a porter would be by to show me to my correct room. I made a note to self to find the first clerk and hurt him. I was going to hurt him badly.
The porter came by and told me 'YOU'LL LIKE THIS ROOM BETTER.' Again, first clerk? Watch your back. For life. This room WAS much better. a Large bed with a good thread count sheet situation. Walk-in closets. Bureau. Desk. High ceilings. Good light. Complimentary breakfast every morning (with service). Over-stuffed chair. Large bathroom with everything I needed. A plush robe for lounging! Slippers, too! Yes. This will do. I ran to the shower to wash the stink of my misadventure off me. I emerged from my steam to put on my robe and slippers and relax. Oh, Rome. It was good to be back. read more