Everybody now, hotel motel holiday Inn

A visual assault by committee colors that don't occur in nature but thrive in boardrooms where men smoke cigarettes The walls are brown rattan and the carpets a burnt orange shag swirl that feebly tries to hide cigarette ash. The lobby chairs?  are margarine left out in a Memphis summer. And let’s not forget the bathrooms, tiled in a blue so aggressively cheerful like the hotel was shouting at you to enjoy your goddam shower. Inside, the  lobby art, if you could call it that, is a symphony of browns, all spilling unapologetically, slightly grimy, and weirdly endearing. Like a hangover you’d happily repeat.