Hotel Review: Luxor Las Vegas – Las Vegas, NV

The fact that when a cab dropped me off at this landmark Vegas strip hotel and casino, and in searching for the Front Desk, the incredibly poor signage caused me to promptly walk all the way into Excalibur via an interior walkway should have been an indication that my entire stay at Luxor Las Vegas would be riddled with annoyances.  From the confusing layout to the snarky staff to the terrifying walkways, it was exactly what people had warned me it was: a dump.  Strike 1.  

I preface this review by saying I RARELY, if EVER, give harsh criticism of hotels – I’ve worked in one, I understand challenges and I sympathize.  I also am low-maintenance: I don’t use minibars, I don’t watch TV and I don’t expect water pressure like I’m at the spa at the Ritz-Carlton.  I do expect the minimum…good service, comfort and safety.  But I digress….

Once I finally DID find the registration desk, I was greeted by a surly agent who refused to give me a room key because “a ‘Liz’ has already checked in.” (Liz being the friend I was sharing a room with).  Well you can’t take the elevator unless you actually have a keycard (it won’t go anywhere) so I had to call Liz to come downstairs and retrieve me, a process which took 20 minutes because she got lost trying to find the elevators.  The man next to me at the desk fought with the agent for 10 minutes to change his room.  The woman next to HIM had called downstairs an hour ago to ask for something and it wasn’t delivered.  The agent claimed whoever promised the item WAS ON BREAK.  Strike 2.

And the room?  Well: the photos on the website for a deluxe room in the Pyramid, which is where we stayed (there is a blocky-looking side building that apparently has nicer rooms, but without the cool “theme” vibe) showcase a fluffy bed and bright lighting.  Not so.  The space, configured exactly the same as aforementioned picture, had dingy lighting, hard beds with one pillow each, zero amenities (coffeemaker? iron? pillow mints? nope.) and no foldout suitcase stand.  The only closet was the armoire, which means unless you bring miniskirts only, nothing will hang without brushing the floor.  Though, perhaps since this is Sin City, they expect those types of outfits.  Also, I consistently hit my head on the window trying to look out (I know that’s MY fault, but come on…LOOK at them).

Luxor is ginormous.  Inside the pyramid the casino has multiple floors where you’ll find a 24-hour buffet restaurant, a taco and tequila bar, convenience store, several nightclubs, a steakhouse, food court and – count ‘em – 3 Starbucks (only 1-2 of which are ever open).  Criss Angel is apparently a sparkling presence thanks to his Luxor show, though the only celebrity we saw wandering the casino was a haggard, steroid-enhanced Carrot Top (MAN, he’s tall…), who apparently also has a show at Luxor, though one involving significantly less advertising.  Despite all the options, there is not much affordable except the Pyramid Cafe, which consistently had a looooong waiting line, regardless of the time of day (or night).

But what I found most horrifying were the interior corridors on the guestroom levels.  After a harrowing ride in the “inclinator” (the elevator that goes diagonal, shakes like a small tropical island on the Ring of Fire and slows nauseatingly to a stop at your floor) you must walk to your guestroom along a hallway open on one side with an entire view of the casino below.  The wall separating you and possibly 20 floors to Earth is about waist-high.  In a city where people are tired, intoxicated and possibly depressed from a bad day of gambling, it is shocking to me that plummeting to Luxor’s cornea-searing carpeted ground floor is just a misstep away.  Strike 3.

Needless to say, affordable or not, Luxor will not be my next choice upon any future returns to Vegas.  With some minor renovations and staff training (and a safety rail) I might consider it. 

But probably not because really, that sphinx is creepy.

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