One night in West Virginia, my mother, my sister, my grandma, my great aunt, and myself were staying in this very dirty little motel. We had one of those joining doors, and we kept hearing the other door opening and someone was banging on it. What's more, they never uttered a sound. My grandma, who panics and is anxious over small things bad enough, was ready to dial 911. Finally we called the front office and they just moved us to another room. Why they didn't just yell at the people next door, I'll never know.
My aunt told me this one. She once stayed in a crappy motel in New Jersey, and she kept having someone pound on the front door screaming that he wanted his "mother fucking coke!" She called the front desk, and they called the cops, but the guy ran off and wasn't caught.