(AKA: How to Not Accidentally Torture Us with Your Lighting Choices)
I’ve stayed in dozens of hotels. Some felt like cozy little havens. Others? Like a sensory escape room designed by Satan’s interior decorator. Most are somewhere in the middle — well-meaning, but totally unaware of how jarring the experience can be for neurodivergent folks.
So here’s a letter (with some helpful sass) to every hotel that wants to do better… but doesn’t quite know how.
The Basics Matter More Than You Think
Overhead lights are the devil’s spotlight
Please. We beg. Lamps. Dimmable switches. Warm bulbs. That harsh, flickering overhead light makes us feel like we’re about to be interrogated on a crime drama — and we’re not even guilty (except maybe of hoarding snacks).
Perfume is not ambiance. It’s attack.
Your lobby doesn’t need to smell like a tropical fruit funeral. Scented sprays, plug-ins, and overly fragrant cleaners are instant migraine fuel. If a room smells like “trying to cover something up,” I’m already plotting my exit.
Surprise knocks = meltdown speedrun
Want me to cry in the bathroom? Knock unexpectedly. Better yet, let me opt out of housekeeping. Or schedule things like maintenance with a little warning so I’m not panicking in a towel.
Simple info is useful — and even better when it’s digital.
We love a good online info sheet we can zoom in on. Big font, clear bullet points, and easy-to-read layout makes a huge difference. It’s eco-friendly and accessible — screen readers can handle it, and our brains can too.
Let us pick our room location (or at least the general area).
Give us the option to choose a quieter zone — away from elevators, vending machines, bars, and ice machines that sound like Thor having a bad day. Avoiding sensory overload starts with picking the right spot to sleep.
Let us know what to expect before we get there.
Surprises are not our love language. Predictability is. Clear info online about lighting, noise levels, scent policies, and what the rooms actually look like helps us plan and feel safe. Bonus points for virtual tours or honest photo galleries.
Ask first, assume nothing
Not every neurodivergent person has the same needs — but many of us would love if you just asked what might make our stay more comfortable. It’s not awkward. It’s thoughtful. And it helps avoid me dragging a mattress into the bathtub at 2AM because it’s the only quiet place.
Imagine This Filter on Your Booking Site:
✔️ Quiet room options
✔️ Dimmable lighting
✔️ Scent-free room request
✔️ Blackout curtains
✔️ Fridge or microwave for safe foods
✔️ Soft bedding options
✔️ Lamp lighting instead of ceiling lasers
Hotels that offer this? I’d book faster than my dog spots a dropped French fry. Which is VERY FAST.
The Bottom Line:
We’re not picky. We’re just trying to stay regulated in a world built for people who don’t get overwhelmed by invisible buzzes, blinking lights, or hotel rooms that smell like “aggressively lemon-scented panic.”
Letting us rest, regulate, and not melt into a stress puddle? That’s hospitality magic.
When neurodivergent folks feel safe and respected, we become the most loyal guests you’ll ever have. We’ll write reviews. We’ll recommend you. We’ll mentally adopt your front desk clerk as our new aunt.
So, let’s build a world where we don’t have to pack half our house just to feel okay in a hotel room.
NeuroExplorer 