Escape to Baltimore: Unbeatable Deals at Extended Stay America!
Okay, buckle up buttercups, because we're diving headfirst into the Extended Stay America experience in Baltimore. Forget those sterile, corporate reviews. This is gonna be real. This is gonna be… well, hopefully, helpful. And definitely, messy.
Escape to Baltimore: Unbeatable Deals at Extended Stay America! – (My Unfiltered Take)
Let's be honest, "Escape to Baltimore" sounds kinda dramatic for a place like Extended Stay. But hey, every escape is different, right? Maybe your escape is from your overflowing inbox. Maybe it's from the constant nagging of your mother-in-law. Whatever it is, Extended Stay America in Baltimore could be your sanctuary… or at least a place to crash that won't decimate your bank account.
First, the Basics (and the Not-So-Basics): Accessibility, Cleanliness & Safety – Because, you know, important stuff.
- Accessibility: Okay, so I'm not wheelchair-bound, but I did a mental walk-through. There's an elevator, which is a huge plus. And the website (and every review, honestly) stresses "facilities for disabled guests". So, check on that. They seem to be trying.
- Cleanliness & Safety: (Deep Breath) – Covid Times Edition
- This is where things get interesting. The buzzwords are all there: Anti-viral cleaning products, daily disinfection, room sanitization opt-out (I like that choice!), professional-grade sanitizing services, individually wrapped food, etc. But and there’s always a but… How effectively are they implementing this stuff? And if they offer a choice to opt-out of sanitization, wouldn't it kinda defeat the purpose
- They say they're doing the hygiene certification thing, and staff are trained. They use those buzzwords a lot; like 'security' and 'safety'. (And if I am being honest, I always get nervous about these sort of things even if they say they are doing the right thing). I'd actually check the cleanliness yourself. See if it's extra clean.
- The Anecdote: I once stayed in a hotel that claimed to be spotless, and there was a rogue sock under the bed. A single rogue, lonely sock. Traumatizing. So, trust but verify. Bring some sanitizing wipes, just in case. (And maybe a blacklight… just kidding… mostly.)
- Hand Sanitizer Everywhere? Okay, that's good. Hand sanitizer is a miracle worker in the face of germs. The fact that they are offering it means that they are actually trying to take care of guests (I hope. It actually makes me feel somewhat safer. But again, don't trust everything they say.)
- CCTV & Safety: The 24-hour front desk and the security are good signs. Smoke alarms and fire extinguishers are a must!
- The Doctor/Nurse on Call: It's good to know, I guess. I hope I wouldn't need to use it- but hey, you never know, eh?
Rooms & Comforts (the stuff that matters, to me):
- The Good Stuff (that would make me happy): Free Wi-Fi! A HUGE plus. Air conditioning. Big time. I'm a creature of comfort. And the free WiFi and AC? This is a must for me. The desk. The fridge. The safe--always great. And, of course, the coffee machine. I can always use a cup (or five).
- The "Meh" Stuff: No Pets Allowed. Maybe you were bringing your dog, and this is a total deal-breaker. Now, for me, that's a win. No barking dogs next door at 3 AM. I'm here for peace.
- The Practical: They seem to have kitchens. It’s not a fully-fledged kitchen, but it's something.
- The Room Itself: I am expecting pretty much a functional but simple room, with the standard amenities, with a TV. I would not go here for the decor; it's clearly a place to stay, not necessarily to live.
Dining, Drinking, & Snacking (where things can get weird):
- Breakfast (the most important meal)… or not: Breakfast is usually included, but expect something basic. It's probably not a gourmet feast. Consider bringing some of your own food, just in case.
- Snack Bar & Convenience Store: Okay, that's potentially dangerous… but convenient. Late-night cravings? They’re ready.
- Restaurants (nearby, most likely): I don't see any listed on-site, so plan accordingly. Look for some good eateries that delivery to those rooms.
- Happy Hour: Not listed.
Things to Do & Ways to Relax (Extended Stay is not a Spa, People):
- Gym/Fitness Center: Probably small or nonexistent. This is not a spa retreat, people.
- The Pool (Outdoor): (Yes! Swimming pool!) It always brightens the mood. I think it is something I would use, especially during the summer.
Services & Conveniences (the little things that can make or break your stay):
- Laundry: This is a godsend. I am a laundry person, for sure.
- Daily Housekeeping: Essential.
- Front Desk (24-hour): Good.
- Concierge: Probably not. But that's okay.
- Cashless Payment: I would assume. I think that's the trend.
Getting Around (because you're in Baltimore, duh):
- Car Park (Free of Charge): This is a massive win. Parking in cities is a nightmare.
- Airport Transfer: Possible (check).
My "Escape to Baltimore" Offer (and Why You Should Consider it):
Okay, so here's the hard sell. Extended Stay America in Baltimore probably isn't the lap of luxury. But it offers something invaluable: affordability, convenience, and a place to call your own (temporarily).
Here's the deal:
- Unbeatable Deals: Seriously. Check for those deals. Extended Stay America is known for them. It's the cornerstone of their model.
- The Baltimore Context: This is a strategic location. You can easily get to the key areas. Explore Baltimore.
- The "Escape" Factor: You're not necessarily looking for romance on the Orient Express, but you are looking for a simple place.
Why I'd Book (Probably):
- I need a place to crash that doesn't break the bank.
- Free Wi-Fi and a decent kitchen setup and that on-site parking.
- It's an excellent base camp for Baltimore exploration.
- I enjoy my own space.
- It is a safe place to stay.
The Bottom Line:
Extended Stay America in Baltimore is not a palace, people. It's a practical option. So, keep your expectations realistic, pack your own snacks, and get ready to explore Baltimore. And, for a few nights, this could very well be your "escape."
Book Now. The deals are waiting. And hey, maybe you'll find that rogue sock under the bed. Good luck!
Mission Xalapa: Uncover the Secrets of Xalapa's Convention Plaza!
Okay, buckle up buttercup, because this ain't gonna be your average, sanitized travel itinerary. This is the Extended Stay America Symphony of Baltimore-Bel Air-Aberdeen, a trip fueled by lukewarm coffee, questionable decisions, and the unshakable belief that this time I'll pack light. (Spoiler alert: I didn't.)
Extended Stay America: Baltimore-Bel Air-Aberdeen - The Messy Guide for the Imperfect Traveler
Day 1: The Great Escape from Reality (aka: The Arrival)
- Morning (ish): Wake up. Immediately regret last night's pizza. Pack. I'm still convinced I can fold my life into a carry-on. I CAN'T. The suitcase looks like a clown car stuffed with dreams and questionable fashion choices.
- Anecdote: Remember that time I thought "compression cubes" were a hoax? Turns out, they're a lifesaver. They almost fit my entire wardrobe, right up until the moment the zipper gave up and the seam ripped. That's when I added the "emergency" jeans. You know, the ones you might wear.
- Afternoon: The drive. Oh, the drive. Endless highways and the relentless drone of the radio. I swear, the DJ’s voice is specifically designed to induce road rage. I stop for coffee (again). This time, it's extra strong. I'm going to need it.
- Quirky Observation: I am convinced that every single car on the road is either a) recklessly speeding or b) going ten miles under the speed limit. There is no in-between. It's chaos!
- Rambling Thought: Is it just me, or does the GPS lady sound incredibly judgmental? Like, "Recalculating. You're still lost, honey?"
- Late Afternoon/Early Evening: Arrival & Settling In (or, the Art of Mild Disappointment)
- Location: Extended Stay America - Baltimore - Bel Air - Aberdeen. Right off the highway. Convenient, yes. Soul-stirring, no.
- The Room: Okay, let's be honest. Extended Stay is… functional. Think: beige, minimalist, and smelling faintly of industrial cleaner. There's always a weird stain somewhere in the carpet. I'll find it. I always do.
- Emotional Reaction: Initial excitement, quickly followed by a wave of "Huh. Well, it's a room." I'm already craving something with more character. Maybe a quirky rug? I should have packed a quirky rug. Damn.
- The Hunt: Where is the pool? Oh, right. It's not here, is it? This is a practical stay, not a vacation, I remind myself, again. Fine. No pool. Moving on…
- Imperfection: I unpack anyway. It's a habit, even though I know I'll just be repacking it all in three days. Throw all the bags on a bed, then sprawl there for at least thirty minutes.
- Evening: Dinner. Gotta eat, right? I could hit a chain restaurant nearby. Or, I could brave the local grocery store and attempt to assemble something resembling a meal. The grocery store wins, mostly because I'm broke.
- Opinionated Language: The grocery store is a treasure hunt, I tell you. A perilous adventure fraught with temptations (chocolate chip cookies, I'm looking at you) and the ever-present fear of accidentally buying expired yogurt. I usually fail.
- Natural Pacing: Find the nearest grocery store and spend entirely too much time deciding between frozen pizzas. Get a salad for a second, then decide I'm not that healthy. Get the pizza. Buy a bottle of wine “for the evening.”
- The Great Pizza Debacle: I'll get back to the room. The pizza instructions are, let's face it, a suggestion. I burn the first one. The second is edible, but the cheese is suspiciously bubbly, and the crust has the texture of cardboard. Emotional Reaction: I’m laughing at the pizza I burnt and ate, I’m laughing at myself. (This will evolve).
Day 2: Exploring (and Failing) - A Tale of Charm and Coffee
- Morning: The coffee machine in the room. The dreaded coffee machine. It gurgles, it hisses, and it delivers something that vaguely resembles coffee. I power through. Need fuel to start the day.
- Minor Category: Local Charm Attempted: I try to find some decent coffee somewhere other than the room, and manage to succeed. Bonus points for a little community of regulars.
- Mid-Morning: Explore. Pick a direction, any direction. Aimlessly wander the local neighborhoods of Bel Air, Maryland. See if I can find any historical sights. Get slightly lost. See the sights. Take some pictures.
- Stronger Emotional Reactions: Some places I am genuinely enchanted by. There are charming town squares, beautiful old houses. Others I feel like I'm wandering through a very long, very boring strip mall. A bit of a rollercoaster of emotions here. (Mostly, hunger).
- Afternoon: Lunch. Because I’m hungry. Again.
- Doubling Down on a Single Experience: The Dive Bar Revelation: Accidentally stumble into a dive bar that's been around since the dawn of time. Dimly lit, smoky, sticky-floored, and absolutely perfect. A local musician is playing, and the playlist is all oldies, so I'm in heaven. The burger is a masterpiece of greasy goodness.
- Messier Structure (and Rambles): I spend way too much time at the dive bar. Chatting with the bartender (who has seen it all), eavesdropping on conversations (mostly about local gossip), and generally soaking up the vibe. This wasn't in the plan, but it was necessary. It’s the part of the trip that feels the most alive. Forget the historic sights. This is where the real stories are. I should have packed a recording device! I'm going to have to go back tomorrow!
- Evening: Back to the room. Back to the pizza I didn’t eat yesterday. (I should have packed more snacks. I always think I won't need them.)
- Stream-of-Consciousness: I decide to try and watch something on TV. The channel selection is… limited. Watch whatever. Sleep will be hard. Eat the pizza. Regret the pizza. But… that dive bar. Oh, that dive bar.
Day 3: The Trip's Beginning and The Trip's End. Getting Back to Normal?
- Morning: I don't wake up until 10:30. I should get packing. The drive is long. I didn't pack well. The whole thing feels like a bit of a disaster, tbh.
- Opinionated Language: I'm still full from the pizza from yesterday. I feel weird. I have a headache and I don't know why (stress?). This is not a good way to start a day, I'm going to be honest.
- Mid-morning: One last trip to the dive bar. One last burger. One last dose of real life before the sterile comfort of the hotel room, the drive home, and life-as-normal. Get a little sentimental with the bartender.
- Natural Pacing: Chat some more. Drink the coffee. Ask the bartender about his day.
- Quirky Observation: I swear, the chairs at this dive bar have seen more drama than a daytime soap opera. They're probably plotting a coup.
- Emotional Reaction: I'm going to miss this place. I feel like I've found place to belong.
- Afternoon: The drive home. The GPS lady doesn't sound so judgmental anymore. Maybe she's just happy it's over.
- Anecdote: During the drive, I play the music from the dive bar. And I think about the friends I made. I feel like I’ve had a great time, despite the imperfect circumstances. This trip was about more than sightseeing.
- Late Afternoon/Evening: Arrive home. Unpack (finally). Actually, I'll probably just shove everything into a corner and deal with it "later." I’ll probably leave that "later" to tomorrow.
- Imperfection: I probably won't get around to doing laundry for a week. The suitcase will remain near the door, a tangible reminder of the adventure.
- Final Thought: Would I do it again? Absolutely. Even with the questionable coffee, the burnt pizza, and the inevitable feeling of mild disappointment at not having seen everything. Because sometimes, the imperfections are what make the trip. And sometimes, that dive bar is pretty much heaven. And maybe I'll pack a quirky rug next time.
So, like, what *are* we actually talking about?
Alright, alright, let's just rip the band-aid off. We're talking about... *stuff*. Complicated stuff. Maybe it's that thing you've been avoiding thinking about, or maybe it's something that keeps you up at night. Basically, anything that causes you a little flutter of anxiety, a bit of a *gulp*. I'm not gonna be overly specific because, honestly? It's all personal, innit? And vague enough allows everyone to insert their own particular anxiety-inducing gremlins here.
Why are *you* talking about it then? What do *you* know? You the expert?
Expert? HA! Honey, I'm the *opposite* of an expert. I'm more like a seasoned traveler on the highway to "messing things up". I've stumbled, I've face-planted, and I've probably said something mortifying at least twelve times before breakfast. And that's just *today*. But that's the point, right? We're all fumbling our way through. I'm just... willing to admit it, loudly and with a fair amount of self-deprecating humor. Maybe that makes me an "anti-expert". You know... you can be good at navigating a bad situation, yeah?
Okay, deep breaths... How do I even *start* to... y'know, deal with it? The Thing?
Oh, the *start*? That's the Everest, isn't it? The sheer *prospect* of starting can be so paralyzing. My advice? Don't try to climb Everest all at once. Start with the molehill. Tiny. Baby. Steps. Seriously. Remember that time I tried to organize my sock drawer? Pure chaos. I ended up just dumping all my socks in a pile by the bed and declared victory because hey, at least half of them *were* still matching. (Though, who am I kidding? They weren't). So, small victories matter. Write down one thing. Make one phone call. Deep breaths. You've got this... probably. Perhaps.
But what if I'm terrified of, say, the *consequences*? This whole thing could be a disaster!
Ah, the *consequences*. The delicious, terrifying, beautiful, messy, glorious consequences. Okay, look. Disclaimers: I'm not a psychologist. I am not a lawyer. I am, however, well-versed in the art of overthinking. And, yeah, consequences are scary. Always. I mean, think about the time I accidentally emailed my entire office a rant about... well, never mind. Let's just say it involved a very grumpy cat and a *very* misunderstood stapler. The consequences? Mortification, mostly, and a lot of awkward elevator rides for a good month. But you know what? I survived. We all survived. The building didn't blow up. It's a risk analysis, right? Weigh the odds, weigh the benefits. Is the potential for disaster really *that* bad? Probably not. (Unless, again, we're talking about the stapler incident... I'm still not over that.)
What if I just... can't? Like, it's all too much. I want to curl up in a ball and hide under the covers. FOREVER.
Ah, the pull of the comfort blanket. I feel you, sister/brother/non-binary sibling! Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt (actually, I probably *still* have a t-shirt somewhere from a particularly rough patch. "I Survived [The Thing] and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt!"). Look, sometimes, hiding is okay. Sometimes, you need to retreat. Don't beat yourself up about it. Give yourself permission to rest. Watch bad TV. Eat the whole tub of ice cream (no judgment here). But... and this is a big but... don't stay under the covers *forever*. Set a time limit. A day. A week. Then, slowly, *slowly*, peek your head out. The world will still be there, probably. And when you're ready, you can start again.
Okay, fine, but what if I'm just... *wrong*? What if I'm making a huge mistake?
Oh, honey. You *will* almost certainly make mistakes. We all do. It's human nature! The universe runs on chaos. I once tried to bake a cake, following the recipe *exactly*. It came out looking like something you might find in a deep-sea trench. Undercooked, misshapen, completely inedible, and yet I've never since used flour for anything other than dusting cookie sheets. The flour was perfect for that, let me tell you. My point? Mistakes are how we learn. How we grow. How we get better at... well, everything. Embrace the mess. It's often where the magic happens. So yeah, you *might* be wrong. So what? Learn from it, dust yourself off, and… y'know… try something new. Or, at least, make sure the cake mixture is getting close to cooked before declaring it finished.
I'm feeling really down about all this. How do I... cheer up?
Look, I'm not going to give you some trite platitude about "looking on the bright side" or "finding your happy place." Cheer up is a serious endeavor, and it is rarely a quick fix. Sometimes, the best thing to do is just... allow yourself to feel the bad feelings. They're real, they're valid, and they'll eventually pass. But, you know, try something! Put on some music your grandma would hate and dance like a maniac. Watch a ridiculously funny movie – the kind that makes you snort-laugh and forget your troubles for a little while. Call a friend. Vent. Whine. Rant. If that doesn't work, maybe you need to talk to a professional. There's absolutely no shame in getting a little extra help. Consider it a tune-up for your brain. And you know what else always helps? Chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. Even if it's not good chocolate. I would be delighted to have it, and therefore, it couldn't be *that* bad, could it?
What if the anxiety just. Won't. Stop?
Yeah, the endless loop of worry. ISerene Getaways
