I think the last time I visited Las Vegas was about 10 years ago.
So, when my best friend Lynne and I decided to take our friend Carol to see her beloved Adele perform at Caesars Palace on 3 Feb., it seemed the perfect excuse to see how much the city had changed in our absence.
Wow, was it eye-opening. In fact, I’m about to break the cardinal rule of ‘What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ because if you don’t stay frosty, it won’t just be the slot machines taking your money.
Even though it was one of the most expensive properties to book for our dates, I sprang for Caesars. The Colosseum, where Adele was performing, was located there and we loved the Forum Shops. By the time we touched down at Harry Reid International Airport, it was about 11:30pm. We’d flown from Cayman through Charlotte, where I ended up pushing Carol and her bum knee in a wheelchair to our gate because there were no attendants around. The disabled really are at the mercy of these handicapped services. We couldn’t afford to wait because we had a tight connection, but suppose someone was travelling on their own?
We were already pretty tired as we grabbed our bags at Las Vegas baggage claim and went to find a taxi. The driver seemed nice enough, but as soon as we got in the vehicle, he turned the meter on.
“Ummm… isn’t it flat rate of $29 to our hotel from the airport?” I queried.
“Oh, yeah,” he replied, turning the meter off, and adding, “plus whatever else you want to give me on top of that.”
Well, yes, mate – I’m dying to add extra when you’ve just tried to pull a fast one.
That was the start of the aggressive tipping culture that we encountered wherever we went. But before our irritation about that could really settle in, I had to deal with the check-in process at the hotel’s front desk. As we walked in the doors, we were greeted with a huge queue of people waiting for an available agent. There was no point in all three of us standing in line, so I told Lynne and Carol to go and relax somewhere while I waited. It ended up being one hour before I got someone, and then the ever-lovin’ final straw: “Yes, Ms. Wheaton, I’m afraid we don’t have your rooms.”
Exsqueeze me? May I please speak to Caesar?
No matter how much I explained that I had checked in, in advance, and that I had received emails saying our rooms were ready, I kept getting the same response. Although my agent didn’t say as much at the time, we were subsequently told by several staff members that the hotel oversells its rooms. The people who arrive the latest get whatever’s left.
It took another 90 minutes for her to sort us out, saying that they would move us the next day. I argued for credits and other amenities, but by 2am, I didn’t have the strength to complain further. We finally got to our ‘suites’ with our luggage around 2:30am.
Over the three days, we realised that unless you’re Frank Sinatra, Ol’ Blue Eyes-adjacent, or a high roller, you’re not going to pull much weight in Vegas. One of our rooms had the previous guest’s food still in the minibar. Speaking of the latter, you didn’t dare breathe on anything in there, lest you trip the weighted slots ‘Mission Impossible’-style and get charged for items. There was no complimentary water, and even though they provided a coffeemaker, you had to pay for the pods, sugar and creamer packets. Come back, Holiday Inn Express, all is forgiven.
We were constantly given the wrong information and directions by guest services on the phone, who sent us on wild goose chases everywhere. Not a problem in a typical hotel, but when you start talking about towers and wings, and all the slot machines look alike, you begin to wonder where the Minotaur’s hiding.
Of course, the Adele concert was amazing. She really has a fabulous voice and is a natural comedienne. I wanted to get Carol a memento, but most of the merchandise didn’t appeal, so I got her a keyring for the price of a yacht. In went the credit card, and on the screen popped up, “Add a tip?” with suggestions of 18%, 20% and 22%. For dropping a keyring in a bag. I declined, as the staff member watched me.
We went to the Bacchanal Brunch the next day, where you paid before being seated.
“Would you like to pay for the tip now?” the host asked. No, I’d like to see what the service is like first. Sheesh!
That night, we checked out, preparing to get on the red-eye back to Charlotte. I made sure we got all the discounts on the bill we were supposed to, while the other two watched Super Bowl paraphernalia being attached to anything that didn’t move.
Oh yes, and President Biden got into town a few hours before we departed. Turned out he was heading into Caesars Palace as well.
I wonder if they had a room for him?
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