So, here's what happened in what I'm calling The Cosmo Clusterfuck...
We were five minutes out from arriving at the Cosmopolitan when we started getting messages from friends, "Your hotel is on fire!" At that point the fire was out, but they had evacuated the hotel and weren't letting anyone back in. So we went to the nearby Orleans casino to regroup and find out what the hell was going on. About an hour later I contacted the Cosmo to find out how, if at all, the fire was going to affect our check-in and overall stay at the hotel. They informed me that the fire was out and they were letting people back into the hotel.
So, we headed over, parked, and I began the lengthy wait in the registration line. Everyone was arriving at the same time, so it took me almost an hour to make my way to the front desk.
"Okay, so our records show you've booked the Terrace Suite and will be leaving on Monday..."
"What? The Terrace Suite? I booked the Wraparound Terrace Suite and we're only staying one night." The Terrace Suite is a nice room, but it's appropriate for a family, not for receiving guests for a party. I asked if there were any Wraparound Suites available and they told me no.
*Sigh*
Okay, I'm a little irate, but I figure we'll make due. I'm adamant about not paying for a second night that I never asked for and they assured me that if I checked out by 11 the next morning, I would have the second night refunded to me, which had already been charged to my card. Okay, I thought; I can live with that.
On my way to the room, Julie calls and tells me that the hotel won't allow customers to use luggage carts. You have to have a bell employee accompany you to the car and bring items up with you. Can we put a deposit on the cart and do it ourselves?
No.
We're a family of four who has our luggage, plus a cooler full of beer for the party. Julie is told at the car that the Cosmo doesn't allow coolers to be brought to the room under any circumstances. Even if we bring it up ourselves?
No. Not under any circumstances.
We're paying hundreds of dollars for a room, and we're being treated like children.
Awwww, hell no!!! Fuck that!
Julie and Clint decide to bring the car around to the receiving door and smuggle the cooler into the hotel, Mission Impossible style, which they are successful in doing.
We get to the room and it becomes apparent that the size of the room won't accommodate the couple of dozen or more guests that we were expecting to show up. We make the tough decision to cancel the party that we had planned for months, to celebrate what would probably be our last fling celebrating Rush in Las Vegas, a ritual that had become a tradition over the last ten years. I post here, and at TRF, that the party has been cancelled.
We walk to the MGM, see the show, and get back to the Cosmo. We stop by the front desk when we return to make sure that it's noted that we're not staying on Sunday and that any associate that we encounter in the morning there will know that we'll be refunded for the Sunday night that I never booked. We're assured again that this is the case. I have a few beers on the terrace, and enjoy what truly is a beautiful view of nighttime Vegas, and go to bed.
In the morning, I hit the registration desk, as instructed, to make sure I'm not charged for a second night that we're not going to use.
"Well, sir, it says here that you were given this rate by booking for a two night minimum."
"Ummmm...wait...what??? We were told twice yesterday that we weren't going to be left holding the bag for a night that I never even booked, after your hotel had screwed up and booked me in the wrong room?"
"Well, sir, it shows here that you booked this through the Marriott program. There is absolutely nothing we can do about it. You'll have to take the issue up with the Marriott registration program."
"Wait, aren't you a Marriott hotel?"
"Yes."
So in my head, I'm trying to figure out how a representative of a Marriott hotel is telling me that I'm going to have to take up the issue with Marriott hotels, when I don't even belong to the Marriott Rewards program and couldn't have booked it through those channels anyway.
Needless to say, my blood pressure is rising. Just as I'm starting to chart out exactly how I'm about to lose my shit with the Cosmo and how far up the chain I'm going to have to go to get the issue resolved, Vanessa, the desk associate, spies the hotel manager and has a quiet conference with him for a few minutes. She returns to the desk and tells me she is going to refund my money for the Sunday night stay.
Huh? Didn't she say there was absolutely nothing that could be done for me?
I keep my mouth shut, my money is refunded, and we depart the hotel, never again to return.
And so ends the saga of the Great Cosmopolitan Clusterfuck.
