L'Escala in Dreieich

Where Comfort Comes to Die

You arrive here on a cold night with that nasty February drizzle.
It takes a moment to identify the place because the sign is off, as if the hotel is trying to hide from its own existence. If Lady Luck smiles upon you, there's a parking spot around the corner.

The revolving door doesn't revolve. But don't worry; after a few minutes of waiting, a diligent concierge lets you in. Treat him well; he's a good fellow who will do everything to make your stay here as bearable as possible. The reception area is a bold attempt at cultural fusion: imagine India having a nervous breakdown in Germany. The smell of curry permeates every fiber of your clothes, while Punjabi electronic music assaults your eardrums with relentless enthusiasm.

There's an elevator that sometimes works. At other times, it gives you time to reflect on the futility of being. The sign says it's for six people, but I could barely fit in there alone - the good old German habit of packing bodies as compactly as possible.

I took the "Comfort Room". Never was a name more appropriate. The first thought when you enter is, "Well, it could be much worse." You could be in a cell in Caracas or in the trunk of an old Cadillac.

The room is cold, but don't worry; with a bit of autogenic training, you'll get used to it.

The bathroom is clean. There's even hot water. The shower head, disproportionately large, hangs like a crypto investor after the FTX crash. With a bit of creativity, you'll manage to fix it with a shoelace or a USB cable. Just be creative.

The room takes you back to the '90s: a spartan environment, ascetic to the core. Every piece of furniture tells a story of better days, though none expects to see them again. The bed appears designed by a drill sergeant with a vendetta against comfort. The pillow is triangular; with some practice, you'll manage to adapt your neck to it. The blanket is short, so you must make a decision: you can choose whether to cover your shoulders or your feet.

They say the room is soundproof. In reality, you can hear the person in the next room snoring and farting, including their hygienic urgencies. If you're wanted, have the mafia on your tail, or if paranoia afflicts you, you can see it as an advantage: you can hear everything that happens in the corridor, on the stairs, and on the adjacent floors.

Breakfast is perfect for someone nostalgic for military service: eggs and sausages. No mustard or ketchup, they're bad for your health.

Pros:

- You have a roof over your head (it could have been worse)
- A bed
- Hot water
- A very kind and attentive concierge (at least he tries his best)
- An opportunity to regret your poor life choices

Cons:

- Everything else

Recommended for:

- Those on the run
- Those with nothing to lose
- Those wanting to temper their spirit or to end it all

This hotel provides an acceptable standard of accommodation and the service was generally satisfactory. There were some negative elements to our stay, however. On checking-in we were given information about the time of breakfast, which turned out to be incorrect. We arrived at 9am only to find that all hot food had been cleared away and all that was left was a small selection of cereals, cooked meat and cheeses. The following day, having established the correct time breakfast was served, we found a good selection of hot food in addition to the cold meats, cheeses etc. The other negative, which is of more concern, is that an unopened bottle of perfume (still in its plastic wrapping) in a duty free bag ‘disappeared’ from our room. Whether it was mistakenly cleared away when the room was cleaned or (hopefully not) it was ‘appropriated’ by someone I cannot say. We contacted the hotel who informed us that ‘nothing had been found’. I have travelled extensively over many years and this is the first time I have ever had anything disappear from a hotel room. I am not in the habit of leaving negative comments but I feel it is important to draw attention to my experience at this hotel.