My Nightmare Bedbug Encounter During Solo Travel: A Cautionary Tale

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

Despite years of travel experience, I had always avoided staying in hostels, primarily due to two deep-seated anxieties: social interactions and cleanliness concerns. However, 2025 was meant to be my year of personal transformation and courage. In what felt like the boldest move I could make, I reserved a night at a Los Angeles hostel. I had no idea that I would depart with a newly discovered third phobia: bedbugs.

Arriving at the accommodation on that memorable July day, my spirits were high. The establishment occupied a charming 1920s building, featuring warm wooden accents that created an inviting atmosphere alongside leather seating arranged to encourage conversation over cocktails.

Upon revealing my hostel inexperience to the front desk staff, they inquired about whether I possessed a padlock. I didn’t, but the facility conveniently offered to sell me one for twenty dollars.

The dormitory appeared welcoming, with expansive windows allowing abundant summer sunlight to stream in. Since all four beds were unoccupied, I selected one of the lower bunks to avoid disturbing future roommates. Having addressed my social anxiety, it was time to confront my cleanliness concerns. I took a steadying breath and examined the bedding thoroughly. Everything appeared spotless. I exhaled with relief, checking the pillow as well. It too looked clean.

After securing my belongings, I spent an enjoyable day exploring Los Angeles, thrilled to embrace this new budget-conscious solo traveler identity. I felt absolutely unstoppable until approximately 10:35 that evening.

Returning to the hostel, I carefully unlocked the dormitory door. The main lighting was off, but a thin beam of light emerged 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 hands began perspiring at the thought of accidentally disturbing them.

Since the bathroom was occupied, I decided to work on some tasks in the lobby while waiting. At 11 p.m., I checked again – still occupied, still off-key singing.

As the evening grew later, I used the downstairs restroom to complete my nighttime routine in the cramped single-stall facility with no counter space, awkwardly managing my toiletry bag while washing up with rough paper towels.

When I returned upstairs near midnight, the bathroom remained unavailable. I quietly retrieved my sleepwear and slipped under the covers to wait. After about fifteen minutes of language learning on my phone, a towel-clad figure hurried past and climbed into the bunk above mine. Before I could remove my headphones, another roommate claimed the bathroom.

Finally, around 1 a.m., I was able to complete my bedtime routine. I turned off my reading light and settled into the darkness, listening to my roommates drift off to sleep. Despite usually falling asleep immediately, something felt unsettling. I sat up and switched the light back on, thinking perhaps I needed to flip my pillow for comfort.

What I discovered made my blood run cold: three rust-colored stains marred the white pillowcase.

I blinked hard, but they remained. Using my phone’s flashlight, I examined the mysterious marks more closely. To my horror, I identified blood stains alongside the translucent shell of a tiny insect.

I sat frozen with my mouth agape, suppressing the urge to scream and wake my roommates. Quietly rolling away from the sheets, I shined the light on my legs. Fortunately, I wasn’t being actively attacked by a swarm of bugs, though I remained on top of the bedding.

Following my millennial instincts, I documented everything with photos and video before slipping out of bed. After spending twenty minutes in the bathroom repeatedly checking my body for bites, I packed my belongings and hurried to the front desk.

I approached the night employee hesitantly. When they asked about my problem, I struggled to phrase it diplomatically, not wanting to make false accusations. I simply stated that my bedding wasn’t clean and requested a room transfer.

Unfortunately, they informed me everything was fully booked except for one private room available for $250 plus taxes and fees. Despite the additional cost, I agreed, needing a clean space for the remainder of the night.

I spent the next six hours in my private room researching bedbugs online, confirming that my photos matched typical bedbug evidence. Though I hadn’t slept in the infested bed, I had been under the covers long enough for the insects to emerge. I was grateful for wearing a protective hair covering that prevented my scalp from direct contact with the bedding.

Using the full-length mirror and my phone’s flashlight, I conducted a thorough examination of my entire body. Bedbug bites typically appear in clusters of three, but aside from my usual skin conditions, I appeared bite-free. However, since bedbug bites can take up to two weeks to manifest, I wasn’t completely safe yet.

I relocated my luggage to the bathroom, reasoning that the fabric-free environment would be less hospitable to bedbugs. These pests don’t discriminate by accommodation type – they can infest hostels, hotels, rental properties, and even public spaces.

Methodically, I inspected each item from my suitcase and examined the bag’s seams with my phone’s bright light. Adult bedbugs measure only about a quarter inch, while juveniles can be mere millimeters. I found no live bugs, eggs, or fecal matter, but took precautions anyway, sanitizing the seams and storing everything in the bathtub.

I didn’t sleep that night. Instead, I secured my loose clothing with hair ties and sat on the toilet with my feet elevated, scrolling through countless online bedbug discussions until sunrise when the hostel manager would hopefully be available.

The manager wasn’t in. The morning receptionist took my contact information, promising the manager would reach out after completing a pest investigation. Meanwhile, I was expected to return home as if nothing had happened. I anxiously watched airline staff load my potentially contaminated luggage, which disappeared behind the curtain to mingle with hundreds of other bags in the dark cargo hold.

Throughout the flight, I remained hypervigilant about my surroundings. The fabric airplane seat heightened my paranoia – what if my clothes were infested and contaminated the seat for future passengers? What if another passenger was already infested? I even tipped my rideshare driver extra as an apology for potentially exposing their vehicle.

Upon arriving home, I immediately stripped and sealed all belongings in separate trash bags, treating everything with a water and rubbing alcohol solution. After several days, I washed and dried all clothing on the highest heat settings. During this period, I slept in an old sleeping bag on my vinyl floor to avoid potentially contaminating my mattress.

Two weeks later, the hostel finally contacted me with their investigation results: “inconclusive.” When I pressed for details about the pillowcase evidence, they stated it wasn’t “conclusively a bedbug.” Since no definitive proof existed, they refused to refund my second room charge.

Frustrated by their response, I hung up and immediately called my credit card company to dispute the charge. Whether or not the evidence was conclusively bedbugs, the situation warranted better customer service and resolution.