The rooms are something a college student with no money would have: smelly, random, old third hand furniture with parts missing; old stained sheets and towels; closets full of hundreds of collapsed boxes and broken furniture; non-functioning phones; no cable television. The doors didn't close properly. The ill maintained hardwood floors creaked loudly. The pipes rattled. That first night I could not sleep for all of the rattling, creaking, and singing; there is a bar of some kind behind the place. The thick layer of paint covering everything could not disguise the bad patch work on the walls, and could not conceal the water damage.
I made the mistake of staying in this place more than one night because my (then) friend thought it was ""quaint."" I knew it was decrepit and unprofessional, but he was my friend.