Finding pubes in the shower is usually too much, but sometimes, says Eugene Bingham, you just make do.
Looking back, the worst place I ever stayed should have been the worst place I almost stayed.
There were no obvious signs of horror as we stood in the lobby. Yet something was just not right.
But, hey, it was late; we were all tuckered after a long day's work; and this was Melbourne - and a boutique hotel, no less (or so it had described itself when we'd booked online). How bad could it be?
So we checked in and headed up to our rooms. Along the way we were confronted with the first evidence that we should just turn on our heels and leave. Laundry, presumably from the night before, littered the corridor. Actually, "littered" creates the wrong impression. It was piled high along the walls of the corridor. Inside my room, I nearly tripped over a rubbish bin - did I mention it was full to over-flowing? - because I was staring at the wall trying to figure out what I was seeing above the bed. Closer inspection confirmed my suspicion: yep, it was blood, species unknown.
Put it down to tiredness (or a pathological dislike for complaining) that, regardless of my room resembling a crime scene, I crawled into bed, which I suspected hadn't been changed from the night before, and crashed. Maybe, I thought, I'd just drawn a dud and my colleagues' rooms were okay.
When we met up in the morning downstairs, though, the truth emerged. "Mould" seemed to be the decorative feature of choice in their bathrooms too. And, as if things couldn't get worse, "there were PUBES in the SHOWER!" hollered one of my workmates. That was it. We checked out.
Moral of the story: if in doubt, don't put up with it. Which is at odds with what I'm about to say about another place we once stayed at which, on the face of it, was far worse but which I wouldn't have missed for the world.
We'd arrived in Tacloban, a Filipino city the size of Auckland, which had just been obliterated by a typhoon.
The Asia Stars Hotel - ominously, the "H" on the sign outside was dangling Fawlty Towers-like - was expecting us. But from the lobby we were led out the back, along a caged alleyway.
Dread loomed in my gut until it became clear where we were headed. The hotel's rooms were all either occupied or rendered unliveable by the most powerful storm ever to hit land so the owner had moved out of his own bedroom in his family's apartment to accommodate us.
It was a squeeze - the cameraman on the bed, the reporter on a mattress, and me on the tile floor - and the facilities were not exactly five star, but for a few nights in Tacloban, it was home. And any discomfort was absolutely nothing compared to the horror thousands of locals were enduring.
The moral of this story? Sometimes, you just make do. And never underestimate the determination of the tourism industry to get back on its feet in a disaster.
I'd stay at the Asia Stars Hotel again in a heartbeat. But that boutique hotel in Melbourne? Forget it. Even if they have cleaned the shower.
• Eugene Bingham, a former Herald reporter, is now a producer with the TV3 programme 3D Investigates.