The Imperial Palace, submitted by Las Vegas. This is the dump that is currently housing me. If a 19th century opium den could somehow be translated into a hotel and casino, and then all of the lighthearted joy of opium was stripped away, the Imperial Palace would likely be the result. Just to keep you up to date, the current tally of insects I have found in my room is at 2 and includes a giant black cricket and a striped cockroach-like beetle. The insects and the general shabbiness is bad enough, but the real kicker is that every room I have been in has had that strange aura of foreboding that usual comes with a "haunted" house. It's the same sort of feeling you would get walking through an abandoned asylum or a run down morgue in Detroit. It's a place where every corner is designed to catch and hold the psychic energy of constant despair and violence.
Enjoy your stay.
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