Note: I don't know if this should go here or in the trip reports forum because this isn't really a trip report. Just me explaining my awful experience at Aria. Earlier this month I was in Vegas for 6 nights, Sunday-Friday. Three at NYNY, three at Aria. Who’d have thought that out of the two it would be the Aria that’d be a massive pain in my butt? Tuesday was hotel switching day. Checked out of NYNY at 11, drove over to Aria to check-in. Headed over to the Invited Guests line. Was helped by a nice Asian guy whose name I do not recall (looking back, I think he is the culprit behind all of my Aria problems). He said that Aria was SOLD OUT and there’d be a wait to get into my room unless I wanted a smoking room with two queens. I said I’ll wait because I don’t want to sleep in an ash tray. Apparently there was a big Hyundai convention at the Aria. I had nothing to do with the Hyundai convention (this will be important later). So he gave me the keys, and said I’d receive a text with the room number when the room was ready. So I left him and walked over to the “Bell Desk” inside the lobby – there were two girls standing there. They looked at me like I was an insane ax murderer when I told them I wanted to drop off my two bags. They informed me that you do that outside. Oh, forgive me for thinking the "Bell Desk" was a bell desk. So outside I go into the heat. The line to drop off bags is a giant clusterf%##. Finally make it through the line, drop my bags off, and get the heck outta the heat. My rule is: If a hotel makes me wait to get my room, I will not gamble in their casino during that waiting time. So off to the Bellagio I went to play in their (better) casino. After an hour or so I get this text that my room is ready! Hooray! (Unfortunately this is where the nightmare truly begins). First – I go to the “Bell Desk” in the lobby to pick up my bags. When I give them my tag, once again the girl looks at me like I’m a crazy ax murderer. “Oh, you can’t pick up your bags here. They have to be brought up to your room.” I stare at her blankly. “I can’t just get them now?” “No, sorry. They’re in the basement anyway. We couldn’t get them if we wanted to.” “SO WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF HAVING A BELL DESK IN YOUR LOBBY IF YOU CAN’T DROP OFF BAGS THERE, OR PICK THEM UP?!?!” ….is how I should have reacted. But instead I just kind of wandered away, shaking my head. So up I go to room 23-103. After the 14 mile walk from the elevator bank on floor 23 to the room, I finally get there. But – my keys don’t work. So back down to the Asian guy at the Invited Guests check-in. He gives me new keys. Another 30 mile walk and I’m finally there. And it’s a pretty great room! I like the view a lot. You can see the Cosmo’s pool really well. I even took some pics in the short time I was there: So I call down to get my bags. When the girl answers, she calls me “Mr. Herd.” My last name is not Herd, or anything close to it. Ok- whatever. Must be a glitch in the Aria’s fancy schmancy technological system. She tells me the bags will be there in 10-15 minutes. Okay – I start to unpack everything and really soak in the room. My friends are downstairs in the pub waiting for me. We were going to eat lunch there. “Were” being the key word in that sentence for me. At this point, I get ANOTHER text from the Aria saying that my room is ready. Only this text lists a different room. Huh? Uh oh. Maybe that’s why the bell desk girl called me Mr. Herd. Maybe I’m in the wrong room. Couldn’t figure out how to call the front desk, so I called the concierge. “Hello Mr. Herd, how can I help you?” Uh oh. “Well that’s the thing. I’m not Mr. Herd.” I got transferred to the front desk pretty quickly. And then put on hold for a long time. Finally the girl comes back, sounding somewhat frantic, and explains that I am, indeed, in Jason Herd’s room. I have no idea who Jason Herd is, but he sure had a nice room at the Aria. She asks if I am in his party. (“No – I am the only one in my party.”) She says that my room is indeed 19-264, and that I should head down to that room. Someone will meet me there with new keys. I told her that my bags were being brought up to this room though, but that was like a half hour ago and they still hadn’t arrived. Put on hold again so she could call the Bell Desk (I wonder if she called the fake bell desk in the lobby, or the real one outside in the heat.) She returned, saying my bags would be brought to my real 19-264 room, not my fake 23-103 room. And that I should go down there now. Someone will bring me keys and bags. And she said they’re giving me a $75 dining credit for this hassle. Ok – down to 19-264 I go. And I wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. This room is so much closer to the elevators. Unfortunately that means while I’m standing there waiting for this mysterious person to bring me my real keys, I get passed by a million people heading to their rooms. I look like a major creeper. Finally a man approaches me with a clipboard and a walkie talkie… and he walks right by me. Then he comes back, “Is everything okay?” By this point I am PISSED. But I am such an easy going non-confrontational person, “Ehhhhhh” is all I can respond. He asks what’s going on. I explain. He dismissively says security is the one who will bring me keys, walks away, and I never see him again. Thanks for the help, clipboard man! I’m waiting some more. And still waiting. Ok – screw this. I leave. Head down to the pub to meet my friends (who by this point, are finished eating). I explain this whole ordeal to them. They say I should eat lunch. I don’t want to. It’s too late – and I’m too mad. So they join me now. I go back to the Invited Guests line (the Asian guy is still there. By this point I was trying to avoid him, because 1- I was sick of him and 2- I think he’s incompetent and was the whole reason everything got so screwed up to begin with). Unfortunately he calls me over so I can't avoid him. “I heard what happened.” I tell him no one came to give me keys. He gives me new keys. I leave without really saying anything to him. I’m mad. We go up to the room. This one isn’t quite as nice as the other one. The view isn’t as good, and the furnishings are different. Weird – they were both Deluxe Kings – but one was totally different than the other. Oh well – time to finally figure out where my bags were. Call the Bell Desk (she calls me by my real name! No more “Mr. Herd!”) I explain (or try to) what has been going on. And tell her I’m finally in the correct room. And I still need my bags. She says someone was supposed to bring them up with some keys. I told her that obviously no one has because there are no bags here. She tells me they’ll be up in 10-15 minutes. I rudely respond, “That’s what you told me two hours ago” and hang up. My friends look at me in shock. I’m usually such an easy going person. They can tell I’m pissed. So my friends leave because I didn’t want them to have to stay there and wait for my bags. So it’s just me again. All alone. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Again. The telephone in my room rings. It’s a call from a foreign sounding man. He says he is at the Bell Desk. He wants to know what my bags look like. This. Isn’t. Good. I tell him. He says thanks and hangs up. I get another call maybe 15 minutes later. He asks more questions about my bags. Clearly they have lost my bags. Maybe 10 minutes later the phone rings again. It is the girl at the Bell Desk that I had spoken with earlier who I was rude to. She tells me they have found my bags (Yay!!!) and that they were dropped off in another room with someone else in my party (No!!!!). I finally lost it: “THERE IS NO ONE ELSE IN MY PARTY!!!!!!!!” I screamed at her. “…………...You’re not here with the Hyundai group?” “NOOOOO!!!!!” She finally got the picture. Maybe 10 minutes later, the foreign guy who had called twice finally arrived with my bags. He said he looked everywhere for them in their basement. He said somehow they were delivered to 23-103. He said that room was still empty though, so no one messed with my stuff. I actually did feel kind of bad for him though, because he was sent on a wild-goose chase based on the incompetence of his co-workers. So –three hours of my life (and more importantly, my Vegas vacation time) wasted. And a got a $75 dining credit out of it. Whoopie!!!!! (Not. Worth. It.) Epilogue: I got home from Vegas Friday night. I see this bill in my inbox: Ugh. That $165 room charge should not have been there. That room was comped. And that $4 Refreshment Center charge was complete and utter B.S. I never even opened up the minibar. Just what I want to do right when I get home – call the Aria and speak with their incompetent workers to try to get this figured out. They told me they’d take the room charge off cause that was indeed a mistake. I didn’t even bother complaining about the $4 minibar charge because I just wanted to be DONE with them. Forever. I’m never staying there again.