Hi, I’m Kayla Sox. I lived through this. We lost our place after Hurricane Ian, and FEMA put us in hotels for a while. I’m grateful. I’m also tired just thinking about it. Both can be true, right?
The short version
- It kept us safe and indoors. That mattered most.
- The process worked, but it felt messy. Lots of calls. Lots of moving.
- Staff at some hotels were angels. Others… not so much.
- Would I use it again? Yes. With a plan and a backup plan.
Let me explain.
How it actually works (in real life)
First, we registered with FEMA. That’s the big step. They told us we were eligible for TSA, which means Transitional Sheltering Assistance. That’s the hotel program.
Need the official nuts-and-bolts version? FEMA’s own fact sheet on Transitional Sheltering Assistance spells out who qualifies, how long stays can last, and what to expect.
Then we pulled the list of approved hotels and started calling. You don’t just show up. You call. You ask, “Do you take FEMA TSA right now?” You keep your FEMA registration number ready. That number is your golden ticket.
At check-in, the hotel charges FEMA for the room and tax. But you? You still need a card for “incidentals.” That hold hit us more than once. You also have to ask about pets, laundry, and if they know the FEMA process. Some do. Some pretend.
One evacuee I met swore by Fortune Hotel because their front desks knew the FEMA drill and skipped the usual deposit drama.
For even more perspective on how FEMA hotel placements really play out (forms, holds, and all), I found this breakdown useful: FEMA Emergency Hotels — My Honest, First-Hand Review.
Stays get approved in blocks. You might suddenly need an extension. And sometimes the extension shows up late. That’s how you end up packing at 11 p.m.
Real stays, real notes
I’ll give you our real stops. No fluff.
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La Quinta Inn & Suites — Naples East
- 3 weeks. Pet friendly, thank goodness. Free waffles helped the mornings feel normal.
- Road noise was loud. The laundry room ate quarters, and nobody had change. Still, the lobby coffee was hot, and the night staff learned our names. That meant a lot.
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Holiday Inn Express — Fort Myers Airport
- 2 weeks. Very clean. Strong Wi-Fi, which helped me work a bit. A front desk manager named Maria actually called TSA support for us when our extension glitched. She didn’t have to do that.
- Surprise $50 hold for incidentals. It reversed later, but I had to watch the folio like a hawk. Also, we had to switch rooms mid-stay because of maintenance. That move was rough.
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Motel 6 — Tampa (one emergency night)
- We landed here during a gap while FEMA reviewed our extension. The room smelled like smoke even though it said “non-smoking.” But it was cheap, pet friendly, and they didn’t act weird about FEMA. We slept. That’s all we needed that night.
Curious what bouncing between multiple non-FEMA hotels feels like when you’re simply road-tripping? Here’s a candid log of five different properties in Oregon: I Slept Around Corvallis—My Real Stays at 5 Hotels.
What I loved
- Safety. Four walls, a lock, AC. After a storm, that’s huge.
- Hot showers and clean sheets. You don’t realize you miss that until you do.
- Morning basics. Continental breakfast carried us. Waffles, eggs, cereal… simple, filling.
- Some staff really cared. Bless every person who printed a new room key with a smile.
What bugged me
- The phone runaround. I spent hours on hold. FEMA. Hotels. Back to FEMA.
- Not everyone knows the program. New staff would say, “FEMA? Huh?” I had to explain it at the desk more than once.
- Money holds. Even with FEMA covering the room, hotels still ran deposits or holds. It ties up your card, which hurts when you need gas and groceries.
- Moving, again and again. New hotel. New room. New rules. It wears you down.
- Food costs. No kitchen means takeout or microwaves. Not cheap, not healthy, and not fun with kids or pets.
And if you’re wondering how quick pit-stops compare in a totally different climate, this summary of hotel hopping in Nevada hits the highs and lows in a night-by-night format: I Slept Around Boulder City, NV—Hotel Rooms, I Mean.
Real-life tips I wish someone told me
- Keep your FEMA number on a sticky note. You’ll say it a lot.
- When you call a hotel, ask for the person who knows “FEMA TSA.” Use those words. It helps.
- Ask about holds and deposits. How much? When does it drop?
- Get names. “Who confirmed this?” Write it down. Date and time too.
- Snap pics of your folio every few days. Mistakes happen.
- If you need an ADA room, say it early. They go fast.
- Pet rules change by hotel. Get it in writing if you can.
- Laundry is a battlefield. Bring quarters, detergent pods, and patience.
- If you don’t have a car, map the area. Is there a bus? A grocery? A clinic? I used the FEMA app for updates and Google Maps for everything else.
If you like the simplicity of seeing resources pinned on a single interactive layout, you might also explore MilfMaps—an easy, map-based directory that lets you spot nearby services at a glance, saving you precious time compared with scrolling endless lists. - Save all receipts. You might need them for other help later.
Another unexpected hack: local classified boards sometimes list off-the-radar motels, week-to-week rentals, or roommate openings that never make it onto the big hotel sites—especially in smaller cities along evacuation routes. If your journey takes you through central Kansas, check out this Emporia-specific classifieds page where locals post short-term rooms and quick housing leads you can secure in minutes, sparing you yet another round of “sorry, no vacancy” phone calls.
If TSA ends or isn’t the right fit, FEMA also outlines several other sheltering and housing options you can explore.
Little things that actually helped
- A small tote with our “hotel kit”: chargers, a power strip, meds, snacks, duct tape (yep), and a mini first aid kit.
- A fold-flat bin for dirty clothes so the room didn’t feel like chaos.
- A dry-erase marker on the mirror for reminders. Corny, but it worked.
- Asking the breakfast attendant for extra bananas and peanut butter. Kept us going.
Cost clarity
FEMA covered our nightly room rate and taxes while we were approved. We still paid for incidentals, pet fees (where they applied), laundry, and anything we charged to the room. We didn’t earn points on every stay, either. Some hotels said no to that under FEMA rates.
Who this helps the most
- Families who lost housing and need a safe place fast.
- People with pets who can’t find shelters that allow animals.
- Folks who can handle a bit of admin work—calls, forms, follow-ups.
It’s not perfect. It’s shelter, not home. But it’s a bridge. And sometimes a bridge is enough.
Service scorecard (my take)
- Safety and comfort: 4/5
- Staff care: 4/5 (big range by hotel)
- Ease of process: 2.5/5
- Value when you’re displaced: 5/5
Final thoughts
You know what? I didn’t expect to cry over free waffles. But I did. This program gave us rest when we had none. It also tested my patience, my phone battery, and my budget.
If you’re facing this now, I’m rooting for you. Keep notes. Keep asking questions. And when you find a front desk angel like Maria, say thank you twice.