Jimi Hendrix Memorial Grave

I booked the Mayflower Park Hotel expecting a little history and charm. Instead I got catfished — hard. The lobby photos online were doing some serious Facetune work, because in person it looked like it hasn't been redecorated since the actual Mayflower docked. If you're going to run an old profile pic, hotel, at least be upfront about your age. We'd have respected you more. Buckle up, because I'm about to walk you through three separate rooms — not because I'm picky, but because the first two check-in attempts were genuinely unlivable. Room 1 (floor 7): billed as "non-smoking," smelled like the inside of an ashtray that also smokes. I'm convinced that carpet was installed the day smoking bans went into effect, purely as a protest. Room 2 (floor 12): no smoke, but a DIY air conditioner duct-taped into the wall like a hostage situation, venting into a window sealed shut with painter's tape. Free soundtrack included: honking traffic, all night, because the window physically could not close. Room 3: by this point I was one bad smell away from walking out and booking elsewhere. This room was mercifully mainly smoke-free and actually clean, so I stayed. Let's be clear though — this wasn't "genuinely fine." It was basic. The best of three underwhelming options, which is a low bar to clear and they cleared it by an inch. Bottom line: the staff were kind and patient with my three-room odyssey, which counts for a lo