Horizon Hotel

Worst hotel experience I have ever had. Staff were rude and inconsiderate and they lie and blame you and charge you for unnessary things. Things were broken like the door, remote, and lamp. Kids running up and down the stairs and down the hallways screaming. No lighting outside at night. I think I smelled marijuana outside in the smoking area one time while there are children around. The people next door was loud and banging on the walls. There was small dogs constantly barking at the end of the hallway.

-My Itemized List of Public Apologies in Relation to My Stay at the Vernal Horizon Hotel- -To My Family: I apologize for booking at the last minute and prioritizing saving money over comfort for a one-night stay, thinking: *“How bad could it really be? People have stayed here, left reviews, and survived.” -To My Wife: I’m sorry you now have to question my judgment as a functioning adult capable of making rational decisions. I’m also sorry we had to spend an inordinate amount of time browsing the Spirit Halloween store just to avoid going back to the hotel room. -To My Son: I’m sorry you had to sleep on a 90’s forest-green polyester hideaway bed with a moist-to-the-touch mattress that looked like it was trying to imitate the surrounding Utah landscape—complete with browns, reds, whites, and rugged peaks and valleys. I’m sorry the sheets were rolled up like a cowboy’s bedroll and no pillow or blanket was provided. I’m sorry for making a “dad joke” by picking up the non-functioning alarm clock and pretending to call Room Service after you asked if I could actually call them for a pillow and blanket—only to realize there wasn’t even a phone in the room. Finally, I’m sorry we had to bring everything of value, including your mountain bike, into the room to avoid it being seized as evidence in any drug-deal-gone-awry in the parking lot. -To My Daughter: I’m sorry this was the trip where you learned about safe exposure limits to second-hand smoke—and when to (or when *not to*) report it to your pediatrician at your next checkup. I’m also sorry you thought the drainage canal behind the hotel looked cleaner than the pool. To the Live-in Hostess and Her Live-in Family: -To the Hostess: I’m sorry Booking.com transposed my name, making my reservation nearly impossible to find. I’m sorry I moved your cell phone from one of the three tables in the breakfast area/lobby/family room/home-school classroom/music room to another so that actual paying guests could sit. (You know, that room right next to the covered outdoor smoking lounge/entrance—what most hotels call a “front desk.” The place where guests usually call down if they need something… oh wait, never mind.) -To the Hostess’s Partner (“Papa Joe -as her kids affectionately called him”): I’m sorry I misjudged you. After watching you fix the hot tub, wrangle the kids, light your partner’s cigarette, do laptop work, then jump into your unmuffled Jeep Liberty to run errands—*all barefoot*—I realized I’d underestimated your barefoot lifestyle. Honestly, I feel like I might be missing out. -To the Hostess’s Children: I’m… just sorry. To the Reviewing System: -To the 5-Star Reviewers: You must have seen some serious stuff in your life. I’m sorry for everything you’ve endured that made the Vernal Horizon Hotel a 5-star experience for you. God bless you. -To Booking.com: I’m sorry, but I now feel compelled to deep-dive into your rating system. Apparently, a “1-star” review represents the gates of hell, while “3–4 stars” must be reserved for homeless shelters. -To Those Who Didn’t See This Until It’s Too Late: I'm sorry. -To Those Still Reading This Review: I’m REALLY sorry. To the Black-Collar Workers: I’m sorry I was tempted to eat your complimentary breakfast before you had a chance to. The sign clearly stated that the items (excluding hot drinks) were put out the night before *for you*—the long-term oil and gas workers—not for middle-class travelers just staying a night or two. You are the real heroes. The least I can do to thank you for your service is to not eat those Great Value brand breakfast items (especially since we would’ve had to pay extra anyway). To the Insects: -To the Bugs in My Bed: I’m sorry I freaked out and didn’t give you a proper burial. -To the Spider in the Hall: I’m sorry I invaded your space and almost knocked you off the wall. -To the Wasps at the Window: I’m sorry I didn’t just let you in. I could have—there was no screen or lock on the window. I assume that’s how the bugs in my bed got in.