At check-in, I went to my room on the 17th floor and immediately noticed something was wrong. No key was needed—the door swung wide open because the lock mechanism had clearly been damaged, possibly kicked in at some point. To make matters worse, housekeeping had overlooked old potato chips under the dresser, which set the tone for what became an unsettling experience. I instantly regretted being there.
Engineering responded quickly, which I appreciated, but their first attempt to fix the door didn’t work. My wife had to chase them down the hall to return. Even after further adjustments, the door still only locked about half the time, and I had to slam it to catch. The lock plunger was broken, the doorjamb cracked, and I even requested a door replacement. When I asked to switch rooms, the only option offered was a view of the trash bins—unacceptable after paying for oceanfront. A refund was denied, but we were moved to the 6th floor, directly above the Tiki Bar, where loud music played until 10pm nightly.
When the music finally stopped, we endured a drunken altercation in the room next door—shouting, punches, crashes against the wall—until security and eventually police intervened around 3:30am. Sleep was impossible. Amenities were also disappointing: the pool area had trash on the ground, valet service took 25 minutes each time, and while beach chairs and umbrellas were included in the resort fee, they hardly compensated for the overall experience.