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| - Vegas isn't all about trying to find the sparkliest hotel toilet to puke in for everyone. True, there is a solid contingent of Vegas wanderers for whom circling the drain of alcohol poisoning is the Holy Grail of the pilgrimage that is Sin City. But there are also droves who just want to play golf in a place where no grass should grow. There are unwashed (and I truly mean unwashed) masses who flock moth-like to the bright lights for nerd conventions. And there are people like me. Fine, semi-respectable people for whom the glittery luster has worn and Las Vegas is just another city where our business takes us.
Reductive societal observations aside, there is a point; many people are looking for many things in the land of Booze and Lights. The Desert Rose will be a godsend for many, and a mark decidedly missed for others.
If, at any point you have had any variation of either of the following conversations;
"Bro, seriously, Bro Code, Bro."
Or
"Oh my god. Like, seriously, I'm super happy that Sarah has found CrossFit and, like, her inner 'Apple Ass' or whatever, but, like, seriously, who does she think she is?" (We know you aren't happy for her, BTW. We know change is hard. But everyone deserves their moment in the sun. Let Sarah have hers).
Or, if passing a backwash impregnated bottle between friends in the parking lot gets called a "pre-party" between raucous "Whooooooooooo"s, there's a bunch of party hotels all over Vegas. Go have fun there. Really. I'm not judging. I'm just getting older.
However, if you have ever gotten excited about maxing out your 401K or look forward to Saturday night because you don't have to work in the morning, not because you can go out at night, welcome to your new favorite hotel.
Desert Rose is essentially your friend with a place in Vegas. Full kitchen down to a blender. Full size fridge, plates, flatware, Henkel knives, and even an ice cream scooper. I found myself opening cupboards just to find what Bed, Bath, and Beyond-y treasure lurked behind the next Narnia Door. They even give you real packs of decent coffee - for free! None of this "if you breath on this bottle of water, $17.63 automatically gets charged to your card" crap. They just let you have coffee. Like they want you to enjoy your stay.
While we are in the kitchen let's talk microwaves. That beautiful appliance of quantum wonder. It doesn't beep. Not when you push a button. Not when it goes off. You can make popcorn with a sleeping toddler on the couch and that toddler will remain sleeping. It was glorious. I wept a single, manly tear.
The couch and chairs make you *clasp pearls* comfortable. There is a real table with real chairs to eat at. Like, you know, adults do. No more trying to wedge a mental block into your brain to help you not think about what the sinners that stayed there before you did on the bed you have laid your take-out on.
It's a legit apartment. Two bedroom, two bath, full kitchen, real living room apartment.
Now, for sleepy time. The pillows. Oh the pillows. None of those paradoxically soft yet wildly uncomfortable Holiday Inn specials that feel like cotton candy and waterboarding had a bastard child. These pillows were really good. Not amazing, but definitely "hotel amazing". The mattress was great without qualifiers. Good enough we checked the tags.
One notable strike here is the bed frame. That sumabitch probably has some sort of Black Ops training from a clandestine paramilitary group. I'm pretty sure if we dropped a bunch of these beds into terrorist training camps, we'd disable every would-be terrorist by the end of the week. Each member of our small and loving family unceremoniously banged our shins hard enough to bellow profanity. Even my 4 year old. I didn't even know she knew HOW to swear. But, she earned it. I gave her a head nod, a high-five, and some ice cream to soothe the battle wound.
This one deserves its own paragraph:
The night stands have outlets AND USB charge ports built into them. Not behind. Not sitting on top. Built into the side. I'm pretty sure I heard angels sing when I plugged my phone into the furniture and it started charging. Screw the Jetsons. The future is NOW.
The tub. I'm not a hardcore tub enthusiast, but I'm pretty sure you could drown a giraffe in this one. It bordered on too deep. It was the 1916 Russian literature of bath tubs.
They are flashing the red light at me so;
Staff was super friendly and helpful, pool looked good but we didn't try it, cool gas fire pit things near the BBQs were fun. The whole place was clean, nicely decorated, quiet, out of the way, but still easy to get to a lot. I wouldn't be surprised if I this is the only place I stay in Vegas from now on. I've got about 17 hotels under my belt there. Everything from the La Quinta (hey, they allow dogs) to The Bellagio. I'm team Desert Rose Inn 110%.
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