Contrast Mamak with our New Year’s day dinner at Appetito, also in Sydney. Recommended by two people, nearby—and most important: open—it seemed a reasonable choice, if not exciting.

The sourpuss staff seated us promptly, took our drink orders, and quickly brought our glasses of wine. From there on it was all downhill. Granted, we were tired, having slept only after the people in the room next to ours checked out—or were arrested—sometime after daylight broke.

Noisy parties might be expected on New Year’s eve, even in an airport hotel. But that’s not what went on at the Sydney Ibis. Its paper walls projected every groan, cry, and vulgarity uttered by our neighbors, and of course their fighting, shouting, wall-punching, and door-slamming. All night.

SLAM! “Get your ass back here, you fucking junkie!” Sob. Whack. SLAM!

The couple moved to the parking lot outside our windows, where they joined others for rollicking beer festivities laced with anger. We later learned the others were traveling companions staying in rooms on other floors.

There were sirens. Police. Ambulance. The woman “was hurting herself.”

Here’s the problem. The Sydney Ibis Airport hotel has no onsite security. It contracts with an outside company, but pays for each “house call.” The hotel’s night manager, who received nighttime complaints from many others in addition to us, was loathe to spring for an officer call and confronted the rowdy couple directly; and only much later called police.

So we may have been a bit cranky as we waited 40 minutes for our New Year’s day dinner. It was an appetizer of seafood frito misto and two pizzas—all quick items to prepare. They weren’t bad. Nothing special, either. Certainly not worth the $102 bill. The place left a bad aftertaste. There must have been many, many better choices.

Research is vital. So is a decent night’s sleep.

Travel: not always what it’s cracked up to be.