Masters' Inn in Tuscaloosa Is A Place Even Summit 5 Won't Stay In

It's 11:21 PM, we've been on the road all day, and I don't have time for an elaborate introduction, so here goes: the Master's Inn in Tuscaloosa was the scariest fucking excuse for a sleeping arrangement my team, or I, have ever encountered. In the space of about 15 minutes, my team discovered the following atrocities in and around our hotel rooms: 

-A five-foot-by-four-foot oval of water-damaged plaster over my bed, which left some of the plaster looking like it'd fall down any second. 

-Dirt, dead bugs, chunks of masonry and other unidentified crap on our bedside table. 

-Semi-rotten leftover food in our fridge. 

-Unidentified stains on the chairs and floor.

-A cigarette burn in my sheets.

-Fragments of poop in Malinda's toilet...

-Pubic hairs in her fridge...

-A huge brown stain on her sheets... 

-...and what we're fairly certain was dried semen on her headboard. There was some white spray on the TV in my room that may also have been rogue escaping semen; nobody cared to speculate. 

Also, Joe was approached by two teenagers--this is in the middle of the afternoon, mind you--trying to sell him marijuana. (Why they approached him I have no idea; Joe is about the most clean-cut, all-American, upright-moral-standing-lookin' sonofagun that you will ever see.) We lasted about fifteen minutes before piling back into the van and demanding immediate and uncompromising egress from that hell-place. We egressed so far we got all the way to Vicksburg, three and a half hours distant, where we are now.

We have slept in some crazy locations (the armory, the ship, an Army base, etc) and some crappy ones, but this one was too much even for hardened FEMA Corps lunatics. AVOID THAT PLACE, READERS; AVOID IT FOR YOUR LIVES.