Monte Carlo Motel

Monty Carlo used to be the place to go, but the rooms were substandard on my last stay. My wife thought someone had spit in the bathtub because it looked like spat chessies, but it turned out to be rust. The bed frames stuck out, and my wife, my son, and I kept banging our chins or stubbing our toes. We noticed plywood had been put between the headboard and the wall, pushing the frames about an extra foot out. We raised the safety issue, but the manager called us clumsy. Even the staff admitted they'd had the same problem. Overpriced for what you get.

I felt like I’d walked into a movie, with junkies running around everywhere. The room had mold, and the mini fridge was broken and leaking water all over the floor. The TV had no reception, and when I lifted the blanket, the bed was covered in other people’s hair. The owner kept my deposit and threatened to call the cops when I asked for it back and wouldn’t leave the property. Worst motel I’ve ever been to. Don’t go there.

The best part was getting out of there. Even the parking lot was nicer than the rest of the property. The owners put on a smile, but I felt like they were running a cash grab, with customer care somewhere below mildew control on their list. I’d rate it below zero if Google allowed it. One star for having a roof, though I’m not sure it’s waterproof. In all seriousness, this place should be investigated by the Better Business Bureau. The front office door looked like it belonged in an abandoned horror movie, covered in webs and bugs. I wondered if that was meant as year-round Halloween decor or if maintenance left in 1973. When the owner handed me the key, its little metal room-number tag fell off. Inside, it felt like a botched half-renovation of a 1970s time capsule: crooked paint, rushed bathroom plumbing, a faucet that spun around, and a showerhead that leaked more than it sprayed. The mattress was just thrown on plywood over a metal frame that looked ready to give up back in 1985. The frame stuck out far enough to catch my shin, and the sheets looked like they’d come from a haunted house. The coffee table and dressers looked landfill-picked too. If you’re after desperate upcycling, they’ve got you covered. There were no amenities: no room service, ice machine, iron, or hairdryer. When I asked for towels, the owner looked at me like I’d requested a golden chalice, then gave me something that felt like sandpaper. At night, you could hear domestic disputes and shouted swearing, with the occasional police visit to calm the neighbours. I briefly wondered if the officers had a spare cell, since Cornwall lockup might be more comfortable. Bring shin guards, earplugs, a tetanus shot, and maybe an exorcist if you stay. This wasn’t just the worst motel in Cornwall or Ontario. I’d confidently put it in the running for worst in North America, maybe even on Earth. It felt like a test of your will to live, and leaving was the highlight. If four walls, a ceiling, and an existential crisis sound like paradise, this might be your place. Otherwise, stay far away. I actually reactivated my Google account just to write this because I couldn’t in good conscience ignore my experience at the Monte Carlo Motel.

The service was great, but this was the lock on my door. I could open it from outside by pulling slightly to the left. I didn’t even stay three hours.