The Candy Cane Affair

Day 2 Part 1 - The first morning of a new trip! I was excited, as much as one can be excited when one feels like crap and wakes up in a soiled Mandalay Bay room with crud everywhere one looked, and, thanks to the dropped candy-cane in the toilet room, what looked like a red and white peppermint murder scene bathroom.

There's a bit to unpack there. I'm always tired after travel day, but I didn't really sleep well at all. The fatigue was quite heavy, so I combatted it with some punishment cheese, a Kind bar, and some in-room coffee. Not a bad cheap bastard breakfast.

The December morning in Vegas was gloomy.

Now about the room. Sorry if these pics gross you out. I'll keep 'em small.

Sink. Broken stopper. Broken faucet that spun 360 degrees and dripped constantly.

Bed. Lovely, just lovely.

What was left after I got on my knees and cleaned up the worst of the candy cane.

The worst. Draw your own conclusions, I refuse to exspeculate.

I wanted to get a couple of physical keys, so I headed down to the front desk and spoke with young Jonathan. He made me some keys, and I told him about the room carnage, filth, disrepair and so on. And I showed him the photos. He was aghast.

He did all the right things, offering to change rooms, offering maid service immediately. With really only 24 hours left before we checked out, I didn't see the point.

However, I did see the point of getting both nights' resort fees waived. And so did young Jonathan, who eagerly agreed that it would be a reasonable thing to do.

Legs feeling like lead with sticky peppermint feet, I made my way back to the room and tested the keys. One had worked in the elevator, so as to get me to my floor, but neither key would open the room. Goddamn.

I had to wonder whose room the keys would open, but left that thought where it belonged, in the bad idea file.

I used to really like Mandalay Bay and felt very comfortable in their well-appointed rooms. But something's changed, and the lack of maintenance in my room was evident. So was the lack of any sort of deep cleaning. Stuff was piled up in the corners. You know, cruddy crud type stuff. Bits of this and that from previous occupants were evident in the closets. It got to the point where you didn't want to look too closely at anything. The room was now something to be endured.

You might be mentally screaming at me "you could have just changed rooms the night before!!!" but it was a calculated thing. We arrived so late - around 11:00 pm - and by the time we noticed half these things it was into the wee hours. The last thing we wanted to do was pack up everything again and deal with the delays, waits, and annoyance of a room change.

We spent some time in the room, enjoying hot beverages, getting ready for the adventure ahead.

Normally, I rent a car from Avis and pick it up at the airport, but it turns out Mandalay Bay has an Avis kiosk, and when I compared rates it was actually a bit cheaper to pick up at the hotel and return to the incredibly inconvenient rental car paddock, inconveniently situated miles from the airport. That shuttle bus ride after a long day of travel was killer.

No, this seemed a lot smarter, so down we went. Not wanting to leave a chore undone, my peppermint lead feet took me back to young Jonathan and a new set of keys. (We ultimately confirmed that these new ones worked.) I felt like I'd already used my energy up for the day.

The Avis kiosk just at the south end of the lobby, and the guy there fixed us up with our vehicle. With a loyalty upgrade coupon, this meant we got an upgrade.

A Jeep.

A candy-fucking cane red Jeep with an ugly dented white scar on the hood, its glassy eyes looking at me menacingly.

If this was an upgrade, I was someone not me but a corollary to an upgraded me. Whoever that is.

So, we piled into the Jeep and within the first 3 minutes I knew I hated it. 

The Jeep was horrid. It veered left all the time, it's throttle was touchy like a sewing machine motor, it felt rough, jarring, and unrefined, and it stank of hoooor perfume inside.

The best smelling shitbox you'll ever drive, that candy cane Jeep.

Our destination? A place that's been recommended to me over and over through the years of blogging Vegas trips.

The M Resort Spa Casino.