Stayed here for a Thursday-to-Sunday weekend trip. The hotel looked great—stylish, clean, trendy—but with a few small tweaks, it could go from “nice stay” to “shut up and take my money.”
Housekeeping was on a two-day schedule, which I get—it’s 2025 and we’re all about sustainability—but let’s be real: when you book a hotel, you kinda expect to return to fresh towels and a bed that doesn’t look like it lost a wrestling match.
Soundproofing? Practically a myth. You’ll hear hallway convos, neighborly flushes, and probably someone’s Spotify playlist from three doors down. It’s like staying in a group chat with strangers.
The bathroom design felt like an escape room puzzle. The faucet was at a weird diagonal like it was trying to dodge your hands. And the sliding barn door? Cute in theory, but it didn’t lock, didn’t block sound, and offered about as much privacy as a beaded curtain.
Now the bartender… let’s just say he wasn’t exactly exuding “hospitality hero” energy. Kind of had that “I’m just here so I don’t get fined” vibe, with a sprinkle of “I’m too cool for this.” I wasn’t sure if he was allowed to serve drinks or if he was just judging ours.
And finally, shoutout to the lobby water station—free hydration is always a win, but they tossed fruit in it like we’re at a spa. Sometimes you just want your water to taste like water, not a sad fruit salad.
At the end of the day, you get what you pay for—and I’d probably spend the extra hundred bucks to try the hotel next door.