I knew this room was trouble as soon as I walked in and noticed what's shown in the above picture. I've only seen that kind of sitting area in one other place. In fact, I have a picture of the last one I stumbled upon:

It's so dark.

That image is from my second column for Cracked, the timeless classic "7 Charming Amenities of the World's Grossest Motel Room." I never mentioned the name of the motel in question in that article, but now I must. I've only seen that kind of "sitting area" in one place, and that would be, of course, at a Microtel.

That's where I was staying when I wrote that first article. I'm not sure how familiar the rest of the audience is with staying at a Microtel, but if you are, then you know doing so says two things about me: I'm poor and I'm not above using the shower to iron my clothes.

What I'm getting at is that there aren't a lot of amenities at a Microtel. Like housekeeping, for example. I don't think they have that. I'm pretty sure they just send a crew in to make the bed, spray some Febreeze, and scope out shit to steal. Again, in reference to my previous column, I base this opinion on the fact that, during my first stay at a Microtel, there was a pubic hair stuck to the frame of the bathroom door for the entirety of the trip.

Hello, old friend.

When I was at my saddest (which is literally any time I'm inside a Microtel), I liked to imagine that hair valiantly fighting off every housekeeping attempt to remove it, because it knows that no man should be alone at a Microtel.

Nor should any man have to be, because if that place has any slogan at all, it should be: "Microtel: It's where the hookers live."

It's got a ring, you must admit.

I say that because, for most of my stay, there was a prostitute working across the hall from me. Or at least I assumed she was a prostitute based on the steady stream of male visitors to her room and the way she let me pay her $25 to watch me jerk off in the shower while crying. A lady would have done that for free.

To their credit, they did offer a "continental breakfast" at the Microtel I stayed at, but I was never able to ascertain exactly what continent it was supposed to be from. I mean, they had powdered milk. I thought you had to be on government assistance of some sort to even get powdered milk. That's the kind of shit relief agencies feed disaster victims, which is exactly what you are if you're staying at a Microtel, so I guess I get that part after all.

A slightly less controversial option.

Anyway, in spite of what that fancy Internet picture led me to believe, for all intents and purposes, I was back at that very same terrifying Microtel, except, you know, it's way more orange. Those pictures I looked at online did a great job of fooling me into believing that this place might be some kind of oasis of hip in the middle of the oasis of shit that is Indiana, but I was wrong. The clues that prove my hypothesis were everywhere. Let's look at a few more.

Alright, there's a pretty big mistake on display in the above photo. Take a second to see if you can spot it before I tell you. We'll make a game of it, it'll be great. Go!

Did you say, "Why in the fuck am I looking at a post-apocalypse air conditioner right now"? Good, because that's exactly what I said when I entered the stairwell of this "newly remodeled" nightmare. Which stairwell? Every stairwell. There were only two, and they both featured similar piles of spent cooling system trash, proudly displayed for all to see like a ruffly Prince shirt at the Minneapolis Hard Rock Cafe.

"Hey, just take the elevator if you have a problem with refuse in stairwells, buddy!" Is that the stance you find yourself taking right now? If so, for one thing, unless you own this place, I don't get why you're so upset with me. Beyond that, your advice wouldn't have solved my problem. Here's a shot of the elevator area:

It looks like al-Qaida's hostage video studio.

If you're in the process of remodeling a shitty motel yourself and are unsure why this is a problem, I'll give a few reasons. For one, pick that shit up; people pay money to stay at this place. Beyond that, there are no other reasons. Just pick that shit up.

You know what else you rarely see in a fancy hotel? A built-in bottle opener in the bathroom.

Get hammered like the '70s!

You barely see those anywhere anymore, much less in a "nice" hotel room. So, you know, take those down if you want the public to think your remodel took, shitty motel purveyors of the world. Also, this probably isn't the best idea, either:

Wrapped in plastic, just like grandma's couch.

Just as I've explained to every dipshit I know who leaves the protective film coating on their flat screen TVs and various other electronic gadgets, the scratches would look way better. Leaving the plastic wrap on anything that's not collectible makes you look like a crazy person, and "motel run by a crazy person" is a terrifyingly common movie premise. That's a great way to put your customers on edge.

And if for some reason you're already on edge when you check in, this place has something for you, too ...

If you're confused as to what you're seeing in the above photo, it's my super-masculine arm passing judgment on the fact that this motel room has a suicide window.

If you're up high enough, a lot of hotels don't even let you open the window at all. A strange and lonely room is probably a great place to fill out the necessary paperwork in privacy before hurling yourself onto the unforgiving but ultimately problem-solving sidewalk below. The Ws and Doubletrees of the world don't want that kind of drama at all.

They also don't trust you to not smoke. Hotels are a great place to take up filthy habits. In those places that do let you open a window, though, you're at least given a protective layer of screen to keep the bugs out and, again, to discourage suicide attempts.

Here's another look at that shitty motel room window:

Now with even more breathtaking view!

There's not a single thing to discourage a person who may be sad enough to just leap right the hell out of that window. And do you know who's sad enough to jump out the window of a shitty motel room? Every single person staying in a shitty motel. Even if you weren't depressed when you got there, you are once you arrive.

Even more troublesome is the fact that this window is situated inside the aforementioned sitting area that let me know I'd been catfished by a picture of a "fancy" motel room in the first place.

The universal symbol for "stay somewhere else."

There are at least eight different ways a setup like that could go terribly wrong. If you're staying in this room, though, in all honesty, things probably went terribly wrong a long time ago, and that brings me to the last point.