If you’ve ever been curious about what it’s like to live in subsidized housing — or grew up in it and feel nostalgic for the smell of mildew and regret — the Residence Inn Cleveland Independence has recreated the experience with disturbing accuracy.
From the moment you pull up, it’s clear: this isn’t a hotel, it’s a retirement home for forgotten furniture. The lobby sets the tone — dim, depressing, and desperately in need of a Hazmat team. Inside the room, it gets worse. The carpet has seen things. The furniture looks like it came from a roadside “FREE” pile. The vibe? Mid-90s transitional housing with a splash of “don’t touch anything.”
The “breakfast buffet” feels like a dare — rubber eggs, sausage links that bounce, and a waffle maker that may be a fire hazard. Housekeeping popped in just long enough to prove the room was still occupied.
Guests? A rotating cast of long-term residents that give the place more of a halfway house feel than a Marriott property.
This isn’t a hotel stay. It’s a sociology case study.
If you’re looking for comfort, keep driving. But if you want to remember what rock bottom smells like welcome home.