We got catfished -- by a hotel! The photos and descriptions were stunning, like a half-naked supermodel with abs and 401k. We got there only to find a 300lb sweaty chain-smoker who hadn't showered in a week. The "lobby" was a plywood tunnel leading to a window with nobody staffing the folding table propped up as a front desk. The main entrance resembled a haunted house - another plywood tunnel leading to the side door. There was hair in the tub, coffee splatters on the wall behind the filthy coffee pot, and what looked like a bloody booger smeared across the door frame. Construction is one thing - I get that, the place needed work. But at least CLEAN the rooms you've conned people into renting. The front desk lady needed a few lessons in customer service - she denied us access to the stairs, which is great fun when traveling with your highly claustrophobic mother-in-law. She possessed the logic of an 6 year old: We asked her, "What if there was a fire?" To which she replied, "There is no fire, and you're not using the stairs." If this were a first date, I would have stiffed her with the bill and jumped out the window. Well played, 44-Catfish-Hotel. Well played.