MP
Marty The Party
May 21, 2026
When we found out about our overnight layover in Juneau, we got excited with the possibility of exploring a new city, new culture, and hopefully, a cozy place to stay. A $400 hotel room seems like a splurge, an opportunity to live luxuriously for a night. However, our stay completely soured our impression of Juneau. Our $40 taxi from the airport dropped us off at an entrance with the grandiose of a strip mall. Upon entry, I watched a frail woman heaving her own trolley with her luggage as unoccupied staff sat behind the counter.
Upon check in, the clunky card machine ruined multiple cards before we got our one room key card for the night. The elevator shook as it brought us to the… 2nd floor. The dim lit, musty hallways brought us to our room, and as our door creaked open, we were met with a wave of humidity. This room, by far, was the smallest I’ve ever seen, resembling a NYC shoebox apartment. Although I’m sure those apartments at least have AC and a mini fridge. Opening the curtains, I took in my view of a beautiful parking lot, through a hazy window caked with years of dirt. A tear in the screen brought me a newfound lack of security, seeing how close our window was to the street. Not to mention that the window didn’t actually lock, with many attempts. As I shut the curtains, I quickly realized that there will always be a tiny gap in the curtain, with no overlap, stripping our sense of security down to that of prisoners. The industrial toilet sat behind the door, no knee space, with the joys of 6 squares left on the roll. I guess we get to change it ourselves! Don’t mind the lack of a fan in the restroom. You conveniently get to share all the smells with everyone you’re sharing the room with. The shower clunked on, as water slowly dripped out. Either too hot or too cold. Only after jiggling the handle and slapping the faucet a couple times did the true water pressure come through. Finally, something to help me escape while standing in a 2x4 child-sized bathtub. I could say goodbye to taking a bath now.
Our compulsion to escape the hotel led us to the beautiful downtown streets right outside the front door, where we were met by speed-walking locals, grumbling, calling us “cruise people”. The only food open after 9pm is a small shop run by an adolescent, desperately trying to fry out endless orders, before finally fishing ours out an hour later. The air is scented with that of mother natures most popular drug. A deep breath in could mean a failed drug test. The beautiful walk through the cold mist provided a stark hope that I have enough Ambien to get through tonight.
I rocked myself to sleep, exfoliating my skin on the rough sheets, as I sweat through the immense heat of our room. But don’t worry, a cheap ancient fan is provided for your comfort. I learned later I had to jiggle the wire of the lamp a certain way to get any sort of response. Rest did not come easy.
In the morning, we creaked down the dim hallway to find ourselves in the gorgeous breakfast hall, only to be met with the hostility of servers stating that the breakfast is only for “paying members”. Thankfully I paid the $80 ahead of time online and notified her of this. She pointed her finger over to reception, saying we have to go get “voucher cards”. With the eye roll of staff, we trampled back over to the breakfast, where the server told us we have the joy of serving ourselves at the miniature buffet. Pre-packaged pastries, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and (thankfully) handfuls of bacon. I guess we weren’t fancy enough to receive the menus that everyone else around us had.
The best part of this stay was leaving. And the worst part was, well, everything. 0/10 stars. Don’t let the fancy marketing trick you like it did us. Do yourself a favor and avoid this hotel at all costs.