“Greetings to whom it may concern,
I was a guest at your hotel this past weekend, Saturday May 31st until June 2nd 2014, room 228.
While I have no complaints about your staff in the slightest, as they were all helpful and cordial, I would nevertheless like to address the quality of the breakfast I ordered on Sunday morning. I don’t usually order room service, as I find it pricy for nothing (all the more so at the Crowne Plaza I might add) but since I had a big day of wedding preparation to deal with and that I did not know the area’s restaurants, I thought I would just treat myself to something easy. That was my first mistake.
For the 24 bucks (tip included) it cost me, I should have just eaten the cold pizza I had ordered the previous night. Actually, that’s exactly what I did, upon sampling what your establishment calls breakfast.
I don’t know how anyone short of Quasimodo himself so spectacularly screws up scrambled eggs and bacon, but I literally have never had worse in my entire life, in all my travels. Even Japan, where the bread is nothing but a tasteless cardboard rectangle and the scrambled eggs are compressed into little bland cubes, did it better than you (mostly, by the grace of God, because you CAN’T taste their version). The Crowne Plaza’s bacon was grisly, oversalted and let’s be honest, just deep fried fat, while the eggs were of a disturbing gelatinous and phlegmy quality the likes of which I daresay would defy physics. And the taste was nothing short of revolting in the whole “I didn’t know I had such a powerful gag reflex” kind of way. After such a traumatizing reaction, I dared not hope, but lo! On my plate: Bonus potatoes. (That was my second mistake.) Sadly, they too would fuel the stuff of my deepest, darkest nightmares. Slimy and dripping with onions, they readily perfumed my room for hours with the stench of a thousand rotting corpses (were they rotting in an onion plantation, of course).
Forgive the exaggerations, but truly, for a “fancy” hotel, your breakfast was honestly gruesome. This is all aside from the fact that as a student, I am very careful about spending money, and getting over the disappointment of having wasted 24 AMERICAN DOLLARS (which are 30% more expensive for me, I might add) took me the entire 8 hour drive back to Canada to get over. I mean, I with your currency being so powerful these days, I probably could have purchased a small yacht for 24 dollars, but NO!! I just HAD to succumb to the allure of breaking fast to ease into the big day. What can I say, I’m a traditionalist. I like my breakfasts (mostly), and I like my super expensive food generally palatable. (And realistically by the way, I could have gotten at least 100 miles on 24 bucks. That’s a quarter tank’s worth of fried lard and chicken-fetus-jelly I paid for!!)
Anyway, I think you get the idea. It’s nothing personal against you, please keep in mind. The rest of my stay was satisfactory, and I didn’t really want to make a stink about this, nor did I want to complain during such an important event in my friend’s life. And yet, I have just never encountered a breakfast so vile that it would compel, nay inspire me to my computer to write (creatively, I’d like to think) about it. Hence, I thought it important to ask for my money back, and more importantly, advise you of what’s going on in your kitchens in the wee hours when clearly, no one is looking. Or again, perhaps the cooks are placing bets on which infallible recipes they can best ruin, and subsequently playing “room roulette” with the resulting catastrophe. I guess my number came up.
Thank you for your attention.
Sincerely hoping you always have breakfast at home,