The Two-Bedroom Penthouse Suite at Bellagio: If I Must
The VegasTripping Review 2015
A two-bedroom Penthouse Suite at Bellagio? Do you even know who I am? The resort once had the privilege of hosting me in a Grand Lakeview Suite. That's right, a room that ends in 001 - a subtle reminder that I'm better than you.
You celebrated your anniversary in a Penthouse with a lake view, but your wife wasn't content. As the fountains were firing, her attention seemed misdirected. Her cheek was pressed against the window, trying to get a glimpse of the man staying in the suite with the balcony. That man was I. Later that evening, she joined me, and we made violent love on the terrace as the fountains danced to "God Bless the U.S.A." seemingly choreographed not to the song, but to my bodily secretions. The suite had to be closed and the next guest's reservation cancelled as repairs were made to the balustrades that were damaged during these deep-dicking sessions.
You watched all this unfold and were overcome not by jealousy, but by deep understanding of why this happened - the size of suites are directly proportional to one's ravishing good looks, sex appeal, and of course, penis size.
Long before this affair, Bellagio sent me an apology comp for one night in a one-bedroom Penthouse. Ugh. Must I subject myself to such tiny accommodations? I took them up on the offer if only to see how the other half lives; I had grown accustomed to 3000 square foot suites and needed a pauper's room to rekindle the excitement. Modesty is, after all, another virtue of mine.
Still, I couldn't quite lower myself to such standards. I added an additional $300 per night to upgrade to a 2052 square foot two-bedroom to assure that I wouldn't be spending my weekend in a shoebox. At a grand total of $1400 for a Friday and Saturday night, it was about an hour's worth of work for me as a brain surgeon/supermodel. And so with great trepidation, I checked in to suite 36057 hoping for something more than an Eastern European hostel.
Oh, good. The top floor. It's the very least they could do.
On the right as you enter, an entry cabinet. It served as an ideal place to leave my VIP room key and MLife card that very clearly depict my status. The cabinet doors do not open. Walls are covered in a deep, slate gray.
On the left, the guest bathroom if you so decide to entertain in such an embarrassingly small-sized room. The purple wall coverings offer a subtle pattern - a far cry from the Grand Lakeview Suite I wished I were staying in.
Stepping in further. The entertainment center on the other end. Mother-of-pearl inlays in the cabinetry are a pathetic attempt to make this suite feel classy. Extra high ceilings on the top floor are a nice bonus, I guess.