House burn down? Messy divorce? Shitty sales route? Immigration problems? Welcome to the world of the extended stay hotel. Welcome home.

Actually, I love it here. We’re camped out in a Marriott extended stay hotel in Indianapolis and it’s kicking Airbnb’s ass. Here’s why:

• There’s maid service.
• There’s a very useful guy we’ve been calling Alan at the Front Desk.
• Everything works. And if it doesn’t, just go see Alan.
• There’s always free coffee, cookies, newspapers, and fresh fruit in the lobby.
• There’s a workout room.
• There’s a “business center.” I’ve never printed so many pages!
• There’s free breakfast every day.
• There’s an outdoor grilling pavilion next to the parking lot. Shockingly popular.

All of that sounds pretty fancy, right? But this is not a fancy place. We call it The Suites, but it’s really like a block of student-housing apartments disguised as townhouses, right behind a stripmall next to the highway. Not even a good stripmall. The one directly next to us is anchored by a Kohl’s. If you’re familiar with Motel 6, imagine Motel 9. That’s where we are.

Breakfast at The Suites

I always look forward to seeing what the neighbors got up to last night. You can’t hide from the trashcan.

Good morning!

Slow night.

I always look forward to seeing what the neighbors got up to the night before.

Hydration is important.

But it’s not just about the amenities here at The Suites. It’s the community. People here keep their heads down. No one is trying to tell you about some farmer’s market. Everyone is trying to scam the breakfast bar. I’m not judging, I’m doing it too. Did I sneak my own homemade yeasted waffle batter downstairs and cook  it in the communal waffle iron instead of using the gross Golden Malted batter they supply? Yes ma’am, I did. I live here. Did I try to use hotel fruit in virtually every meal for the first week? Yep, did that too. Apple slaw. Apple crumble. Orange crepes. Banana cookies (sounds gross but SO amazing). It’s kind of turning into a game. I’d actually love to compare notes with the guy I’ve seen packing up like 6 hard-boiled eggs, 8 pieces of bread, two yogurts, seven catsup packets and a coffee cup full of pancake syrup. I want to know what magic he’s going to work with that stuff. But I’m pretty sure talking about it is against the rules.

Flaming crepes with oranges fresh picked from the lobby. Disabled the smoke detector long ago.

I could live here forever.