My Bedbug Nightmare: A First-Time Hostel Experience Gone Wrong

Every traveler falls into one of two categories: those who have encountered bedbugs during their journeys, and those whose unfortunate meeting with these pests lies ahead.

Despite being a gateway accommodation for many new travelers, I had never set foot in a hostel. My reluctance stemmed from two primary anxieties: social interactions and cleanliness concerns. However, determined to embrace a more adventurous version of myself in 2025, I boldly reserved a night at a Los Angeles hostel. What I didn’t anticipate was departing with a newly acquired third phobia: bedbugs.

Arriving at the establishment that July afternoon filled me with optimism. The historic 1920s building featured warm wooden accents complementing leather seating arrangements designed to encourage conversation over craft cocktails—though with diet ginger beer, naturally, given the Los Angeles setting.

When the front desk staff learned this was my inaugural hostel experience, they inquired about a lock. Without one in my possession, I purchased their conveniently available padlock for twenty dollars.

Essential Advice

While most hostels sell locks on-site when needed, expect to pay approximately double the retail price. Save money and time by bringing your own or purchasing one at a nearby pharmacy.

The dormitory appeared welcoming, with generous windows allowing abundant summer sunlight to flood the space. With all four beds unoccupied, I selected a lower bunk to avoid disturbing future roommates during nighttime movements. Having addressed my social anxiety, I confronted my cleanliness concerns by examining the bedding thoroughly. Everything appeared pristine—sheets, pillowcase, and mattress all passed inspection.

Important Inspection Tips

Bedbugs typically remain hidden during daylight hours. Always pull back all bedding to examine mattress seams for evidence of infestation, and carefully check inside pillowcases as well.

After securing my belongings, I spent an exhilarating day exploring Los Angeles, reveling in my newfound confidence as a budget-conscious solo traveler. This euphoria lasted until approximately 10:35 that evening.

Returning to the hostel, I cautiously unlocked the dormitory door. The main lighting was off, but a thin strip of light emanated from beneath the bathroom door, accompanied by soft, off-key singing. Tiptoeing toward my bed, I noticed the other bunk contained what appeared to be sleeping occupants. My palms moistened with anxiety about potentially waking them.

Since the bathroom remained occupied, I decided to complete some work in the lobby while waiting. At eleven o’clock, the situation remained unchanged—still occupied, still featuring off-key melodies.

Growing tired but needing to prepare for bed, I quietly retrieved my toiletries and used the single-stall lobby restroom. Without counter space, I balanced my bag between my legs while washing my face with rough paper towels.

Communication Strategy

In retrospect, I should have politely knocked to request an estimated timeframe. The occupant might not have realized someone was waiting.

When the lobby closed at midnight, the bathroom remained unavailable. I carefully extracted sleepwear from my luggage and slipped under the covers to wait. After fifteen minutes of language learning apps, a towel-clad figure hurried past and climbed to the bunk above mine. Before I could remove my headphones, another roommate claimed the bathroom.

Fortunately, this person required only fifteen minutes. With everyone finally settled, I completed my bedtime routine near one in the morning. I extinguished my reading light and listened to my roommates drift into sleep. Despite usually falling asleep immediately, something felt unsettling. I reactivated my lamp, thinking the cooler side of my pillow might help. When I flipped it over, three rust-colored stains marred the white fabric.

Blinking didn’t make them disappear. Using my phone’s flashlight revealed the horrifying truth: bloodstains and the translucent shell of a tiny insect.

Critical Mistake

This was the moment I should have gathered my belongings, exited immediately, and reported the situation to reception.

Instead, I sat speechless, afraid of disturbing my sleeping roommates. I carefully removed the sheets while examining my legs with the flashlight. Though relieved to find no active feeding, I remained atop the bedding for the rest of the night.

Drawing upon my millennial instincts, I documented everything with photos and video before quietly packing and approaching the front desk around two in the morning.

When I meekly explained my room had a cleanliness issue and requested a transfer, the night staff informed me everything was fully booked except for one private room. Desperate for clean accommodation, I agreed, only to learn it would cost an additional two hundred fifty dollars plus taxes and fees since it represented a room upgrade.

Advocacy Lesson

This would have been the perfect time to explicitly mention bedbugs and show the photographic evidence rather than worrying about causing embarrassment.

Too exhausted to argue at two in the morning, I provided my credit card and trudged to the new room, planning to resolve matters after sleeping.

Instead, I spent the next six hours researching bedbugs online, confirming my photos matched typical infestation evidence. Though I hadn’t slept in the contaminated bed, I had spent considerable time under those covers, enough for the insects to emerge. I felt grateful for wearing a protective hair covering, as my scalp hadn’t been exposed across the pillow.

Using the full-length mirror and my phone’s flashlight, I meticulously examined every inch of my body with unprecedented thoroughness. Bedbug bites typically appear in clusters of three, but aside from existing skin conditions, I appeared bite-free. However, since reactions can take up to two weeks to manifest, I wasn’t truly safe yet.

I relocated my luggage to the bathroom, reasoning that a fabric-free environment offered better protection. Even private rooms aren’t immune—bedbugs infest hostels, hotels, rental properties, and various public spaces without discrimination.

Item by item, I inspected my belongings for signs of hitchhiking pests, then examined my suitcase seams with maximum phone illumination. Adult bedbugs measure approximately one-quarter inch, while juveniles can be mere millimeters. Finding no live insects, eggs, or fecal matter, I still sanitized the seams with hand sanitizer before securing everything in the bathtub.

Sleep proved impossible. I secured my loose clothing with hair ties and perched on the toilet seat with elevated feet, scrolling through countless online discussions until sunrise, when hopefully a manager would be available.

Unfortunately, management wasn’t present. The morning receptionist accepted my contact information, promising the manager would respond after completing a pest investigation. Meanwhile, I was expected to return home as if nothing had happened. I anxiously watched my potentially contaminated luggage disappear into the aircraft’s cargo hold alongside hundreds of other bags.

Throughout the flight, I remained hyperaware of my surroundings. The fabric airplane seats seemed particularly threatening—what if my clothes harbored insects that would spread to other passengers? What if fellow travelers were already infested? The paranoia extended beyond the aircraft, and I tipped my rideshare driver extra as compensation for potentially exposing their vehicle.

Upon arriving home, I immediately bagged all belongings separately, treating everything with a water and rubbing alcohol solution. After several days, I laundered everything on the highest heat settings, regardless of fabric care instructions. During this period, I slept in an old sleeping bag on my vinyl floor, protecting my still-financed mattress from potential contamination.

Treatment Options

For items that cannot be washed, try freezing them or leaving them sealed in bags under direct sunlight.

Two weeks later, the hostel finally contacted me with investigation results: “Inconclusive.” When I pressed for details about the pillowcase evidence, they maintained it wasn’t “conclusively” a bedbug. Despite my confusion and the support of thirty-eight online community members who had confirmed my identification, they refused any refund due to lack of “conclusive evidence.”

After hanging up in disbelief, I immediately called my credit card company to dispute the charge for the second room. Whether or not the evidence was definitively bedbugs, the experience had taught me valuable lessons about advocacy, documentation, and the importance of speaking up when encountering unacceptable accommodation conditions.

Photo by Juan Pablo Mascanfroni on Unsplash

Photo by Victoria Kurcheva on Unsplash