
Austin's BEST Downtown Hotel? Super 8 Review SHOCK!
Austin's "BEST" Downtown Hotel? Super 8 Review SHOCK! (Spoiler: It's Not What You Think… Or Is It?)
Okay, buckle up, buttercups, because I'm about to drop some truth bombs about Austin's "best" downtown hotel. And by "best," I mean the one I – in a moment of sheer budgetary optimism and sleep-deprived desperation – booked online. Let's just say, the pictures might have been taken with a little bit of… artistic license. And the name? Well, I'm not naming names (cough, cough… Super 8… cough), but let’s just call it [Hypothetical Hotel Name: "Lone Star Living"].
First Impressions & Accessibility: The "Gosh, I Hope This Works" Stage
The first hurdle? Finding the damn place. Downtown Austin is a concrete jungle, and my GPS, God bless its digital heart, decided to take me on a scenic tour of the city, involving several near-misses with food trucks and a close encounter with a particularly aggressive cyclist. Finally, I arrived. And let me tell you, the exterior screamed "economical." Think… slightly faded brick, a parking lot that looked like it had seen better days, and a sign that probably hadn't been updated since the Bush years.
Accessibility? (Yes, I'm getting to the point. Eventually.)
Okay, they get some points for accessibility. There's an elevator, which is a must downtown. The lobby seemed wheelchair-accessible, and I think I saw some accessible rooms listed. BUT… the whole vibe was a bit “we'll try our best.” I didn’t see any Braille signage, and the general feel wasn't super well-prepared. Let's call it a "work in progress." They do get points for being a little better than some other places I stayed at.
Wheelchair accessibility: Mostly checked.
Hotel's "On-Site" (Air Quotes) Amenities:
- On-site accessible Restaurants/Lounges: Ha! I wish. This was a grab-and-go situation. More on that later.
The Room: Where Hope Goes to Die (Maybe)
Okay, let’s get real. I had booked a non-smoking room, and the internet promised "spacious accommodations." "Spacious" is a subjective term, people. What it actually meant was… a room. With a bed. And a TV that probably predated the internet.
- Available in all rooms: Air conditioning (yay!), Alarm clock (double yay!), Blackout curtains, Carpeting (a little worn, but hey!), Coffee/tea maker (with instant coffee that tasted suspiciously like sadness), Desk, Hair dryer (that worked, bless it), Internet access – wireless (more on that later), Ironing facilities, Mini bar (empty, like my soul), Non-smoking, Private bathroom, Refrigerator, Satellite/cable channels (at least I could zone out!), Shower, Telephone, Toiletries (the tiny, generic kind), Towels, Wi-Fi [free].
Internet & Internet Services: The Eternal Wait (and Why I Typed This Review)
Here’s where things get… interesting. The Wi-Fi was, shall we say, capricious. It worked. Sometimes. Often, I found myself staring at a loading screen like it was the face of God, praying for a connection.
- Internet access: Yeah, it exists. Technically.
- Free Wi-Fi in all rooms!: (Shouting in triumph at the top of my lungs!)
- Internet [LAN]: Couldn't find it. Probably for the best.
- Internet services: "We have Wi-Fi!" is the extent of their services.
The Breakfast 'Experience' (or lack thereof): A Culinary Adventure in Individually Wrapped Sadness
Forget buffets. Forget freshly squeezed orange juice. Breakfast in Lone Star Living was a showcase of individually wrapped horrors. I'm talking pre-packaged muffins that could double as doorstops, cold, dry biscuits, and instant oatmeal so bland it made cardboard seem exciting.
- Breakfast in room, Breakfast takeaway service, Individually-wrapped food options: Check, check, check. (And let me tell you, I took that breakfast with me. I needed it for emotional support.)
The "Ways to Relax" (and the Hidden Gym): A Quest for Inner Peace (and Maybe an Actual Workout)
Now, the website promised a fitness center! Yippee! Lone Star Living and the quest for relaxation.
- Fitness center: (chomping at the bits!)
- Gym/fitness: More like a closet with a treadmill from 1987 and a rusty dumbbell.
- Pool with view: There was a pool. The "view" was questionable.
- Spa: Nope. Not here.
- Sauna and Steamroom: Don't hold your breath.
Cleanliness and Safety: The Sanitization Symphony
They’re trying, bless their hearts. There were signs about enhanced cleaning protocols, and I DID see some hand sanitizer stations dotted around. But let’s just say, I brought my own Lysol wipes, just in case.
- Anti-viral cleaning products, Daily disinfection in common areas, Hand sanitizer, Rooms sanitized between stays, Staff trained in safety protocol: Attempting to do all of these things.
Dining, Drinking, and Snacking: The Food Desert
Forget fine dining. Forget even decent dining.
- Snack bar - There was a vending machine! (mostly chips)
- Room Service [24-hour]: Negative.
Services and Conveniences: Functionality for a Budget
- Air conditioning in public area: Yes, thank goodness for that.
- Cash withdrawal: Nope, unless you count the ATM in the lobby, which charged a hefty fee.
- Concierge: I think the front desk clerk did everything.
- Daily housekeeping: They did their best!
- Elevator: Yes.
- Laundry service: Nope. (Or at least, not advertised).
- Luggage storage: Yes.
For the Kids: Not Exactly a Family Paradise
- Family/child friendly, Kids facilities, well, maybe just bring your kids and watch the television.
Getting Around: Location, Location, Location… And a Lot of Walking
The location, despite the initial GPS shenanigans, was actually… pretty good. Close enough to downtown to walk to a lot of things.
- Airport transfer: Not provided (it's the bus, for the cost consciousness.)
- Car park [free of charge]: Yes.
The Verdict: Super 8? More Like… Slightly Better Than a Hostel?
Look, let's be blunt. Lone Star Living isn't the Ritz. It's not even the Four Seasons. It's a budget-friendly option. But, and this is a big but… it’s CLEAN, it’s functional, and hey, it had a bed. And the Wi-Fi, bless its fickle heart, did work… eventually.
So, would I recommend it?
If you're on a tight budget, and you're okay with "basic" being the operative word, then maybe. If you're looking for luxury, a spa treatment, or gourmet breakfast? Run. Run far, far away. However, I did enjoy Austin, and one must always consider cost of the city (and this place was cheap!)
Final Rating: 2.5 out of 5 Stars. (0.5 stars for the effort of the staff).
Escape to Wisconsin's Charm: Grandstay's Mount Horeb Hideaway!
Okay, buckle up buttercups, because this isn't your grandma's meticulously planned travel itinerary. This is a document, a messy, glorious document, chronicling my utterly charming (and potentially disastrous) Austin adventure. We're staying at that Super 8 in the goddamn Capitol Area, so expectations are low (but my hopes, surprisingly, are high!).
Day 1: Arrival, BBQ Dreams, and Existential Dread at the Breakfast Buffet
- 1:00 PM: Arrive at Austin-Bergstrom International Airport (AUS). Okay, first hurdle: the baggage carousel. Honestly, it's a test of patience, a slow-motion ballet of lost luggage and defeated sighs. I'm convinced the whole thing is designed to make you question your life choices. Breathe, deep breaths. Success! My ancient Jansport backpack survives the journey.
- 1:30 PM: Uber to the Super 8. The driver, bless his heart, is clearly an aspiring stand-up comedian. He regales me with tales of the real Austin, the one "before it got bougie." Am I bougie? I probably am. I wear linen. Damn. Anyway, he drops me off. The Super 8… well, it is a Super 8. The continental breakfast promises a "freshly baked pastry" – I later discover it's a hockey puck in disguise.
- 2:30 PM: Check-in. The front desk clerk looks… well, overworked. "Enjoy your stay!" she chirps, sounding like she hasn't enjoyed anything since the Clinton administration. Grumble, grumble. Up to the room. It smells faintly of air freshener and, I suspect, a previous guest's regret. The AC, however, is gloriously effective. Thank God for small victories.
- 3:30 PM: BBQ Pilgrimage: Franklin Barbecue Attempt #1 (and inevitable disappointment). Okay, look. I know the line is legendary. I know you're supposed to arrive at the crack of dawn. But I'm a tourist, not a masochist! So, I arrive prepared for what I assume is utter defeat. I get there, and the line isn't the behemoth I pictured. Maybe I'm lucky. Maybe.
- 4:00 PM: The Line Disaster: The line is around the corner. I think I have time, so I get in line. I don't get to the front until 6, but it's worth the wait!
- 6:00 PM: Franklin Barbecue Victory!!!!! I bought brisket, ribs, and sausage. The brisket is an experience, the ribs are phenomenal, and the sausage is perfect. Is it worth the wait? Yes. Do I think about eating a second portion? Yes.
- 8:00 PM: Rainey Street. The first drink is amazing, but it keeps getting worse. The second drink is good, but it will continue to worsen the situation. The third is unnecessary, The fourth is when I see everything. Am I drunk? Yes. Do I care? No.
- 10:00 PM: Back at the Super 8. Stumbling, giggling, and clutching a half-eaten taco from a food truck. My new best friend is a guy with a cowboy hat and a suspiciously shiny belt buckle. The night is a blur of neon lights, bad decisions, and the overwhelming feeling that I'm completely out of my depth.
Day 2: Culture Shock, Coffee Crashes, and Trying (and Failing) to Be Cool
- 7:00 AM: The aforementioned "freshly baked pastry" and coffee from the "continental" breakfast. Existential dread intensifies. The coffee tastes like sadness. I'm questioning everything.
- 9:00 AM: Zilker Park. Okay, I need to detox. Zilker Park is huge. The people are beautiful. I feel inadequate. But, for a moment, I feel at peace. I sit next to a pond, watching ducks quack. It's nice and I needed it.
- 11:00 AM: The Blanton Museum of Art. Ugh, I need to be cultured. I admire the art, but I don't understand it. I pretend to understand it. I fail.
- 1:00 PM: Lunch at a Food Truck. Again, the tacos are delicious. The people-watching is even better. I overhear two women discussing the merits of kombucha. My brain hurts.
- 3:00 PM: South Congress Avenue (SoCo). I'm not cool enough for this.
- 5:00 PM: After SoCo, I feel even less cool. More coffee. More existential dread.
- 7:00 PM: Dinner and drinks. I have to eat dinner somewhere. Back to being drunk. It's a fun night.
Day 3: Farewell, Austin (But Will I Be Back?)
- 9:00 AM: Breakfast, one last hockey puck.
- 10:00 AM: Check-out. The front desk clerk seems slightly less dead inside. Maybe she's seen the light. Or maybe she just needs a bigger coffee.
- 11:00 AM: Uber to the airport.
- 1:00 PM: Departure.
Reflections:
Austin. It was… a thing. A messy, beautiful, confusing, and often ridiculous thing. Did I find myself? Absolutely not. Did I eat some amazing BBQ? Hell yes. Am I going to need therapy after this trip? Probably. Am I already planning my return? Maybe. But I'm definitely bringing earplugs and a better sense of direction next time.
Lakeland's Hidden Gem: Courtyard Oasis Awaits!
Austin's Downtown Hotel: The *Real* Scoop (No Filter!)
Okay, spill the tea... What's the *actual* name of this supposed "BEST" downtown hotel? I'm already skeptical.
Is it *really* "downtown"? Because "downtown" can mean anything these days. I've been duped before.
Let's get to the juicy stuff: what's the *vibe*? Is it all sleek and minimalist, or does it lean more... Austin-y?
Tell me about the room. The *room*. Is it a dungeon with a leaky faucet or something resembling actual luxury?
The dreaded ROOFTOP POOL. Give me the *dish*. Is it a paradise, or a crowded cesspool of influencers?
Let's talk about food and drinks. Is the hotel bar worth a visit, or should I just head straight for Sixth Street?
What about the staff? Are they nice, or are they jaded from dealing with tourists all day?
So, would you stay there again? Be honest!
What's the WORST part of this Austin hotel? Tell me the true horror story.


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