I don't complain about hotels because a) How bad is it, really? and b) What's the point?
The jackhammer on the parking garage roof outside my window two days in a row, early in the morning? I can't decide who to smack upside the head harder: Me or the poor guy who's just doing his job. His loud, loud job. At seven am. Outside my window.
I tried to drown out jackhammer with the iPod but at volumes that high, Ravel sounds like rave and I felt more like buying a ten-dollar pill from someone in the bathroom stall and slamming vodka red bull than sleeping. So I got up.