If you stumble across a listing for "The Artisan" Hotel on one of the booking sites - such as Expedia (warning!) or Orbitz, cruise on by as if your life depended on it.
In fact, avoid this Hotel like the plague.
The Artisan is - quite possibly - the tackiest Hotel in Las Vegas.
And, that’s saying something, folks.
Whenever I am about to book a suite in Vegas, I always do my homework, because a handful of the Hotels in the desert oasis engage in deceptive business practices, a failure to disclose, and outright fraud.
For instance, Expedia - in particular - is guilty of posting low-ball room rates - without disclosing the all the specific details or binding legal terms - in order to hoodwink unsuspecting tourists into booking a room.
Later, the victim (the tourist) arrives at the Hotel - and for the first time - they are informed about excessive resort fees, exorbitant deposits on credit cards not in the line with the industry norm, and a host of surcharges they can ill afford.
The Artisan is guilty of these deceptive fraudulent business practices - and then some - from the get-go.
For instance, the Artisan lists its address as 1501 Sahara Blvd just down from the main strip.
However, when the hotel guest arrives at the 1500 block, there is no entrance to the Hotel there.
In fact, the Hotel owners have misrepresented the facts to boost their image in the Hotel industry.
In fact, the front drive is on a lowly side street.
That is another one of the problems that surfaces when guests attempt to check in with a minimum amount fuss after a hectic exhausting day catching the sites.
The tourist will find themselves on an overpass - near the freeway - trying to fathom how to maneuver their way to the front lobby of The Artisan.
At the establishment, a sign at the entrance to the parking lot, also sent me for a loop!
Valet Parking OnlyHave you ever heard of anything so ludicrous in all your life?
Personally, I don’t hanker to the idea of some dumb-ass car jockey putting his grubby little hands on my vehicle.
Since the purchase date, no one has ever driven the SUV, and I intend to keep it that way.
In addition, in the parking lot, there were no signs indicating where the entrance was located.
One sign to my right appeared to hint that it was in that direction so I trotted off to find myself at a servant entrance where a pile of old toilet bowls were strewn all over the parking lot near the kitchen.
How sanitary!
But, things got tackier, alright.
When I strolled up to the front desk the employee on duty was graced with one of those disagreeable personalities that screams out bit** on sight.
The plump taskmaster didn’t disappoint when she opened her unattractive yap.
After providing her with my name two or three times, she came up empty-handed.
No reservation in their system.
Imagine that!
I booked the suite a week prior and paid all hotel fees due in advance.
But, The Artisan had no record on file.
I instructed her to call Expedia.
Otherwise, she would have stood around with her finger up her butt, frustrating the process.
After about ten or fifteen minutes, Expedia provided her with the reservation number, and faxed her a second copy of the confirmation.
Did she apologize?
Hell no.
The woman was obviously born in a barn.
At this juncture, she requested my credit card, but did not state whether the Hotel intended to place a hold on funds or how much.
By law, a Hotel is required to provide this information up front, so that a customer may keep track of funds availability in their account and to maintain a proper accounting.
I was forced to probe further to determine if a hold would placed.
“Yes, I’ll be placing a hold,” she responded in the affirmative.
But, she continued to play her dishonest games.
Dragging the dollar amount out of her was like trying to pull teeth.
When she finally revealed the “state” secret, I was flabbergasted.
She informed me that she was going to place a hold on funds in the sum of $150.00.
Another problem with disclosure.
I searched the Artisan web site high-and-low and could not locate the information.
In addition, I scoured the Expedia site, to uncover the elusive deposit detail.
When I noted these facts to the Hotel desk clerk her response was quite revealing.
“Oh, it’s in teenie weenie little letters on a web page,” she blurted out with all the class of an elephant in heat.
Gotcha!
Obviously, there was a deceitful effort to hide the information.
Why was Hotel management so reluctant to post the information in bold face and in plain site as required by Law?
Most hotels impose $50.00 deposits which can be paid by credit card or cash.
If tourists were aware that this excessive sum was being held (not in keeping with competing establishments in the Vegas area) they would have cruised on by and booked their accommodation elsewhere (where the legal terms and conditions were properly disclosed).
In essence, the Artisan is heartlessly victimizing tourists, with no shame or guilt!
When I asked the shark at the desk how long the funds would be held by the bank, she squirmed a little before answering.
“Oh, two to five days, I think.”
She thinks?
The clueless clerk may have stupid written on her forehead, but I sure don’t.
The manager was not in to discuss these issues with me.
How convenient.
Coward!
When I trundled up to my room, I got quite a shock.
The halls throughout the floor were covered from ground to ceiling with garish paintings without an ounce of artistic merit and make any sane person puke on the spot.
The dungeon-like ambience was so dark and eerie I found it difficult to find my way.
In fact, the décor was so bizarre, that it was evident that the place was run by a wacko with taste up his (or her) wazzoo.
Some of the trappings were crude, too.
On each door, a makeshift sign screamed out the number of each suite in a child's scrawl.
After I stumbled into my suite, there was one pleasant surprise, however.
My room, for the most part, was decorated with a bit of taste.
For example - a deep leather armchair appealed to my sensibilities - and the king size bed with a rich wood frame was inviting, too.
Unfortunately, the designer went overboard to the Hotel’s detriment.
Instead of hanging a couple of quality works of art on prime wall space, the decorator rustled up a truckload of gaudy flourishes that ruined any semblance of style or good taste.
For instance, for some insane reason, the Hotel management placed three plastic wall hangings above the bed (the kind you find in low-class brothels in a bad end of town).
Above that, a fake grill with oddball swirls that served no purpose whatsoever, stood out like a sore thumb.
The wide window shutters crafted in rich dark wood were appealing.
Just below, and to the left, a plastic orchid adorned a side table.
I shrugged in disbelief.
A lamp on a night-stand by the bed was classic kitzch.
It was embellished with fake ironwork and pearl drops that failed to catch the light.
Plastic!
Fortunately, the carpet was relatively new, and weaved in dark masculine tones which worked well with the basic theme of the suite.
A wall-relief with fancy trim acted as a sidebar which offered up an ice bucket, plastic cups in cellophane wrapping, and two bottles of FIJI water.
But, in view of my shocking disheartening nightmare thus far, I was afraid to take even a sip.
After all, there was no directory in the room, enlightening me if the bottled water was complimentary or a chargeable item.
Likewise, there was no disclosure about the costs incurred, if the designer water was downed during the course of the stay.
These folks were positively evil, weren't they?
The next time-consuming dilemma unfolded when I dialed down to the front desk to ask how to access the free wi-fi promised at Expedia.
“Just click on the icon,” Ms. Smarty pants chirped.
But, when I attempted to do so, I was confronted with four choices:
Artisan 2 - Artisan 4 - Artisan Lounge - Artisan 5Did I have to click on one in particular, or would any selection open up the connection?
After about fifteen minutes of fiddling - and getting no internet access alerts - I was forced to call downstairs to the front desk for assistance.
Aaron was polite enough, alright, when he snatched up the house phone.
But, I started to get the run-around, from the get-go.
Since there was no Artisan 3 (I was ensconced on that floor) he promised to have staff activate a connector down the hall.
“Give it five minutes,” he clucked.
Five minutes turned into thirty minutes, then forty-five, and later sixty.
Another call to the desk rustled up this response.
“Our tech guy is looking at it right now.
But thirty minutes later, there was no internet access.
When I rang up Aaron again, he noted that they were waiting for the technician to arrive.
Excuse me?
A half-hour earlier he assured me the tech guy was “on it”.
Now, he switched his story, and was asserting that the dude was still on the way.
Don’t you hate it when lying pieces of sh** play games with ‘ya?
I noted for the record that if the wi-fi wasn’t fixed soon, I would be forced to go outside the Hotel for access.
“I hear ‘ya,” he piped up.
That would mean that The Artisan breached their legal agreement to provide services.
I was promised free wi-fi service but four hours after checking in, there was no resolution to the problem.
Meanwhile, I wasted four hours of my time, because some loser was not on the up-and-up with the Hotel’s paying guests (who deserve to be treated with more dignity and respec that that).
Curiously, there was another odd incident that took place, which piqued my curiosity.
When I zoomed up to the 4th floor to check the wi-fi service on that level, I was taken aback when I ended up in a construction zone.
The floor was being renovated.
A few minutes later, I overheard Mexican day workers, chatting to each other about the job.
When one of the renovators caught sight of me, a look of fear and uneasiness, swept over his face.
Now, if I was a Nevada Lawman, would I jump to the conclusion that these were undocumented immigrants plying their trade under the table?
By theway, there was a silver lining, though.
Although I was forced to wile any precious hours trying to sort out the wi-fi fraud, I was able to draft and polish this post to publish on the tattler once I access an internet service just down the street. a scant mile away.
Tomorrow morning, the shocking details of this Hotel’s dishonest and deceptive business practices - and the unprofessional fraudulent conduct of its employees - will be streaking around the globe as a consumer alert.
In the final analysis, I trust that my expose on these disreputable businesses - the Artisan Hotel and the high-profile Expedia booking site - will save other tourists, regular travelers and businessmen - the grief I was forced to endure this afternoon at the hands of the despicable scoundrels in the employ of the Artisan Hotel in Las Vegas.
FootnoteAfter a 4-day stay a couple of problems arose which I thought I should relay to travellers considering staying at this Hotel in spite of the foregoing problems.
If you are the kind of inidividual who likes to relax in the evening in your Hotel suite with the newspaper or a bit of TV you may be put off by very loud music which floats up from the lounge downstaris (which features DJ's and Live Shows) until midnight 2 or 3 nights a week. If you ask for a room on the other side of the building you'll be faced with freeway traffic noise all night.
Also, there is a problem in the event you like to stock up on ice throughtout the sweltering hot nights and days. Guests were surprised to find that when they travelled up and down the floors of the Hotel (5) that there weren't any ice machines. Turns out that management removed them! If you want a bucket of ice you'll have to go into the lounge on the main floor and ask the bartender for a bucket-full. If you're the type who likes to wear paamas in the evening, it means you will have to get dressed to get the ice, or just ignore the snickers and go down in your PJ's nonplussed.
