When travelling for work, you expect different things out of your hotel from what you would expect on a leisure trip. For example: I want my work hotel to have high-speed, wifi internet. I want it to have an iron, and aboard, without calling someone. I want it to have basic toiletries, I want it to have space to spread out. I want it to have wake up calls, a tv in the room, and access to coffee.
In a leisure room, I want luxury toiletries. I want an amazing view. I want the TV to have multiple channels, I want lots of extra pillows. I want an extra towel or two. I wouldn’t mind a sofa or sitting area.
Hello, Venetian: you have all of the above. Let’s start with the most awesome and relevant to the Bobbie: toiletries.
There are the basics: shampoo, conditioner, body lotion. Then there’s body wash. Oh and then there’s the amenities, which include Q-tips, a nail file, a cuticle pusher, and not only a shower cap but a SCRUNCHY to go with it.
A scrunchy. In a hotel. Wrapped in plastic. Like, “this is your scrunchy, you can use it, and if you don’t it remains in plastic, and don’t worry we have 80billion more in plastic just waiting”.
Then, there is the view: I can see the entire north end of Las Vegas. The Las Vegas Hilton, over the Wynn’s golf course, and up on to the mountains.
Then, there are the five (5) pillows that come on my bed. The sofa and separate sitting area. The three (3) flatscreen TV’s. There are the incredibly friendly and helpful hotel staff, there is the assiduous security, there is the overeager climate system (warning: if you want snow in your room, you can very nearly create it with the air conditioning. If you want a sauna, you can do that too).
I really love this hotel.
I’m here in Vegas on work. This means each morning I get up no later than 7 — often earlier, if I want to work out in their gym*, which is just slightly smaller than my expensive fancy gym back home and just as well stocked — and I’m in their meeting rooms until 5 or 6. Then I’m eating in their restaurants, decompressing in their bars, and back to my room to sleep. The entire experience is one where the only thing that is taxed is my liver and my working brain. This is good.
But every thing reaches a point of excess where it’s just too much, and you want to go home: I’m not there with the Venetian. I’m kinda there with Vegas. As I haven’t spent much time outside of my hotel, this makes zero sense, I know. But after work and work and work, and party and party and party, I’m just a little vegas’d out. I should’ve ridden the bull at Gilly’s last night.
*Gym: comprehensive weight room. Several cardio bikes, several treadmills, several stair-steppers. Full set of cardio weightlifting machines. Yoga/Pilates room. Spin class. Spa.
Bobbie Conti 