| rev:text
| - The Clarion is really only a short walk off the strip. Okay, it's a bit of a walk, but even if you get pretty hammered (and you probably will) getting back to a safe bed is easy enough to do.
Through a Groupon, it only ended up being something like 40 bucks a night with tax. That's a hell of a deal. That also factors into my review quite a bit because a lot of their glaring problems were easily overlooked given that I paid such a low rate. Most nights I understand it's a good deal more expensive and had I paid full price I'd be fucking pissed.
At one point my girlfriend, my sister, my friend and I all got trapped in the elevator with the front desk employee. He remained calm, so I remained calm, too. I also had me a tallie of beer so I got good and toasted beforehand so I was pretty relaxed, all in all. We were in there about 8 minutes, he called for help, the elevator went up, then all the way down and I went swimming.
At the pool, which is open 24 hours a fucking day, by the way, there's a strict "no glass" rule. So I shrugged and brought glass in, anyway. A security guard came out and told us there was no glass allowed at the pool. He brought with him plastic cups for our booze, threw away our glass bottles and told us about the drink specials they had inside. THAT'S service!
The next morning, check out day, we got a call from the front desk telling us to check the fuck out or they'd charge us for another day. Now, we thought checkout time was noon. Generally it's 11 at most hotels, we for some reason thought this one was special. It wasn't. They wanted us gone and with the deposit they held on my card, I could not financially afford a one night's ding on there so I told my friends to chill, I'd go talk to the front desk and get this all smoothed over.
Well, I got stuck in the motherfucking elevator again. I tried running down the stairs, at first, but then realized that I drank and smoked too much the night before. I heard the elevator so I squeezed in and scared a cleaning lady half to goddamned death. She screamed. I screamed. No ice-cream was involved. The elevator went UP, then down, one floor at a time, stopping at each floor. By the time I got down to "Smoothe things over" my girlfriend already talked to the front desk lady and got shit all figured out. No charge. No fuss, no muss.
If I could pay the same rate again, I'd definitely be back.
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