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I am a New York-based writer, travel lover, and author of The Drive North and Destination Paranormal. I have several other books in the works, including fiction.

A Night at Estes Park’s Tyrol Mountain Inn

I dropped off my bags, took a quick look around, and was happy with my decision: Estes Park’s Tyrol Mountain Inn, although a little dated, looked like a clean and comfortable choice for the night. And to prepare me for a long hike the next morning, I knew that was exactly what I needed. Sadly, though, you don’t always get what you want.
I left my room early in the evening to head out for a ghost hunt at the Stanley Hotel. After my experience in February, I was excited for the opportunity to return and do a more thorough investigation. I looked forward to further exploring the hotel, but also to the nice, soft bed I had welcoming me back to the Tyrol Mountain Inn; the Stanley was booked solid for the night and the Tyrol was a nearby option.
After checking in, I made a mental note of how great the place looked; there was lots of space, it was clean, and it even had a small refrigerator for all of my soda and water. Sure, it generally looked like a chain hotel, but that didn’t bother me, since it had everything I wanted – expect sound proof floors and walls. And that I did not discovber until it was much too early the next morning.
Due to a late night, my early morning hike was pushed back a few hours as I looked forward to a little more shut eye. But once the person above me turned on their shower, that extra sleep was not possible. It sounded like an absolute avalance was descending upon my room, all the while being punctuated with lound, thumping bass that was pumped through as a soundtrack to my impending snowy demise. It wasn’t an avalanche, though, but instead my upstairs neighbor who was getting ready for their day – and making damn well sure everyone around them knew about it.

I tossed and turned, disappointingly hopeful the noise would subside when their shower ended. It continued on, though, long enough where it was impossible to fall back asleep. And snice all of the noise was made outside of the hotel’s specified quiet time, it was pointless to complain.
Once resistance became a mute point, I climbed out of bed and got ready for my hike, knowing full well that I would find more peace and quiet on the trails. My time on the trail in the sun did make me happier, as well as a little redder. The smae would be partially true fo rthe Tyrol Mountain Inn, since I left red-faced and upset with the money I spent on what ended up simply being a crappy night in a chain-like hotel.

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