DoubleTree by Hilton Binghamton

Very clean, helpful staff, wonderful location and good food

There was 1 desk chair and one lounge type chair, both rather uncomfortable for sitting on for a few hours in the evening. The toilet was low and I had trouble standing up from it. The toilet was so close to the shower, bathroom layout was very poor. The bathroom sink did not drain well. This is the most we have ever paid for a hotel, so we expected more. Our last hotel was $140 per night and was immaculate. The bedding could have been nicer for this price. That being said, we had a nice few days. I just want other guests to be informed.

Absolutely dreadful. Room had such a strong musty odor, I asked for another room. There were none available. It was 9 pm & I didn’t know the area so I stayed for 10 horrible stinky, suffocating hours. By the time checked out everything in my suitcase smelled like dead wet skunk Receptionist said “ I hope you’ll give us another chance”. Nope. Never. If you have a choice, stay elsewhere.

Lavabo sale de bain de notre chambre semble obtruer. On a remarquer que la climatisation out le chauffage était assez assourdissant.

Verdict: Not recommended. Safety notice: If they offer you an eighth-floor room, decline immediately—unless you enjoy being part of the demolition. We arrived at this hotel at roughly 2 a.m., the hour when only the desperate, the delusional, and people on long road trips willingly check into anything with a functioning door. All seemed calm. Too calm. At 8 a.m. sharp—because of course it was 8 a.m.—the ceiling above us detonated. What followed was not “construction noise.” No, that would be far too polite. This was a full-scale industrial assault, a Wagnerian symphony of drills, jackhammers, and vibrations so violent I briefly wondered whether the hotel had been built on an undisclosed fault line. The walls shook. The bed trembled. My soul left my body. It felt less like a hotel stay and more like being strapped into the front row of an IMAX + Dolby + Laser Light experience in New York City—the kind that charges you $40 and still leaves you with tinnitus. A true earth-shattering event. One moment I was awake; the next, I was convinced someone was about to drill directly into my skull for science. Naturally, I called the front desk. Their response was magnificent in its simplicity: nothing could be done, and “everyone knows about it.” Everyone, apparently, except me. Silly me—for not being part of the hotel’s secret inner circle of people who are aware the eighth floor doubles as a live construction zone. I must have missed the memo. Possibly because it was not given to me. So now comes the philosophical part. What advice should I give my fellow travelers? Should I suggest they avoid staying here until the renovations are complete, so they can enjoy the sort of aggressively mediocre DoubleTree experience available literally everywhere else on Earth? Or should I say nothing—allowing them to discover, as I did, the same IMAX 3D Construction Simulator™, so that together, in the same room, on the same floor, at the same ungodly hour, we may all arrive at the same existential conclusions in this increasingly divided world? I don’t know. It’s a question I will continue to ponder during my upcoming six-hour drive, powered entirely by insufficient sleep, mild rage, and the faint ringing in my ears. Bring earplugs. Or better yet—don’t come.