Sheraton Gateway Los Angeles Review: NYSE:HOT

I’ll tell you the story. It’s a list and a cop out because I’m too tired to write for real. Lists can sometimes get the job done too.

Friday 10:00 AM Drop the car off with Oasis Hand Car Wash which is located inside of the Sheraton Gateway Parking Lot at 6101 W. Century Blvd.

Explain to car wash that my flight will be in at 11:00 PM Saturday night, where would the keys be?

Javier points me to the office, where they will be in an envelope. Javier prints his cell phone number on the receipt.

11:15 Saturday night, completely exhausted I arrive at the car park and ask the man in the office to please give me my keys.

No keys. No joke.

He looks through two office and a safe but my keys are no where to be seen.

We find the supervisor, we look more, they break through the flimsy lock on the car wash building and find maggots, but still no keys.

1:00 AM Sunday morning. I am crying, not a little but I’m muttering, please get me a cab, I need to get home, my family needs me.

My friend at the parking company walks me through the alley, past the very drunken conventioneers to the front door of the Sheraton.

I think I’m mistaken when I see women drinking cheap liquor straight from the bottle and approaching every man they see. I think that can’t possibly be the Sheraton, but it is.

I walk into a giant cloud of smoke and I’m pinching myself becuase I’m startled that people are smoking indoors, then I realize I’m smelling weed. A blunt to be exact, the cigar wrap is enough to make me vomit.

The front desk man is giving a room key to a woman who is clearly a prostitute, she yells across the lobby, “Yo! You’re gonna hafta give me another thirty five dollars for this shit”. I try to give him a look, any look, like, “Dude, you’re wearing a suit and you work for a major corporation. How is this happening?” But he avoids my glance and hands me a filthy telephone to call a cab.

There was a young father with his son checking in, “Are you sure that’s the IBM rate?” I wanted to grab him by the arm and say, “Get your son out of here, it’s a $20 taxi ride to Century City. Lord only knows if you’ll survive in this third world filth.” But I certainly didn’t want to upset anyone there. I’m frightened.

Big surprise, the cabs aren’t waiting for customers there.

And, yes, the cab driver reeked of pot too. And, yes, to answer your next question I did have him drop me off a block from my house. I walked it in.

Sunday evening I used my spare key and retrieved my car but no one is returning my phone calls regarding the stolen lost key or the $80 taxi ride. If I don’t have my car keys back today I’ll need to have the entire car re-keyed. That will be expensive. Very expensive.

I can find phone numbers for a call center, but I doubt that Javier Benito would get the message.

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