The Hyatt House LAX gets points for having a sleek, modern vibe in the lobby and a smooth check-in process. Our suite was clean and comfortable, but...
Our room had what I can only describe as a conceptual window. There was a pane of glass, yes, but it was frosted over like a cake; letting in light but denying any connection to the outside world.
The WiFi functioned like a moody cat: on its terms, and with no warning. Also, the bath was more of a philosophical concept, since the drain plug had apparently taken early retirement.
The restaurant downstairs had good food, but the ambience was giving upscale truck stop vibes. And the mandatory 18% gratuity? That level of confidence in the experience was bold. Not the staff’s fault—they were fine—but the setting didn’t exactly scream “reward me generously.”
Now. The shuttle. The drivers were great, but having to get picked up and dropped off next to a dumpster in what felt like a covert back-alley drop-off zone, was a real “Hyatt, what are we doing here?” moment. Nothing says “premium hotel chain” like dragging your luggage past the smell of wet cardboard and regret.
Maybe we came in hot after staying at Bahia Mita Secrets (also Hyatt), where everything was polished, intentional, and luxe. This felt more like the brand’s underachieving cousin who got held back a grade and is still “finding itself.”
Next time I'm near LAX, I’ll be exploring other options.