The quality of a bed and breakfast is greatly enhanced by on-site hosts and interaction with them and guests no matter what the facilities are like. At the Fairchild, I felt like I was in a laissez-faire affair akin to the pre-Katrina attitude of most waitstaff in New Orleans. OK, I had a Groupon, but doesn't that mean they want you to check out the place, recommend it to others and come back? I don't think I will be doing so. First, I had trouble finding the place. I had to park, cross the street in the drizzle and peer at the house numbers to figure out if I was in the right place. Then I saw The Fairchild House on a black plaque on the black fence.The front gate was locked. Thankfully, the one person staff (a Loyola College Student) heard me buzz at the gate before she temporarily jumped ship to pick up a sibling who needed a ride home from school.The computers were down and my reservation was nowhere to be found. Thankfully a room was available anyway. I was able to park in the locked back area, but there is no way to hold the solid covered gates open when you park. They were like kites catching every breeze. Every time I entered and left, it was a keystone comedy of opening the gates, rushing to back out the car or pull in, stopping to reopen the gates while the car was 1/3 through so they didn't scrape the car, backing out a little more, getting out and reopening the gates and so on. The access to my building was through an alley enhanced by eau de feral cat. My room was up some very steep stairs. There was no one available to help me haul my bags upstairs but I gotterdone. The room was clean and the bed comfortable, but there was a big metal shaded yellowish bulb hanging over the foot of the bed that I imagined might be standard jail cell lighting, a tiny TV without a remote, and some kind of blown up holy card looking prints on the wall. There was a lot of antique furniture in the main B & B office, a sitting room upstairs in my building and in my room, jazz fest posters in the hall and some arrangements of dusty Mardi Gras paraphernalia at various places that were attempting to make the place look gay. It didn't quite work. The building smelled old. I'm used to humid buildings and the South, but seriously, automatic burst air fresheners would be a godsend here. I did like the Community Coffee and little coffee maker in my room. There were also tons of hot water for my shower, which was nice. I was glad I brought some granola bars with me, though, because I was told-- I thought-- that breakfast was served at 6:30. I wandered around trying to figure out if I had been given the wrong info and room location and only found I guess a fellow guest who looked very hung over smoking a cigarette in the back yard.The office area wasn't open so I finally called the B & B # at 7:30. I was then informed by the ubiquitous college student that on Saturday, breakfast didn't start until 8:30. The breakfast room was kind of nice but I had to figure out where things were. There was only a modicum of sliced fruit set out so I didn't take as much as I would have liked, not knowing whether I would be depriving the next person who wandered in. No one said hello or introduced guests to each other. The student manager talked with one couple who was already there. I stayed another night and thankfully had lots to do outside of the B & B. Oh yes, it was almost record temps for January. The temperature upstairs was very hot. The window AC unit was noisy and wasn't doing it's job well until I figured out how to get it out of energy saving mode so it would spit out some cold rather than cool air. When I left, I had to search for our student to get a receipt. She was in the laundry washing sheets. Hey, Fairchild, she is keeping the place running, but this is not a hospitable place. You can't have a B & B with one harried and over-stretched student employee running the whole show. And get some air freshener and ceiling fans and a way to prop those darn gates open.
