The Cosmpolitan of Las Vegas (Las Vegas, Nevada)

I wasn’t kidding when I used to tell people Las Vegas is the last place I ever wanted to go. The only time I played poker, someone paid my buy-in because I agreed to eat an entire spoonful of wasabi in one bite, and I really just love sleep way, way too much to get excited about the idea of staying up all night, drinking sticky-sweet pink cocktails and teetering on 3-inch stilettos. Nope, not my thing. Then one day, my boss sent me to Vegas for nearly a week. To work. I got to avoid the cocktails, and I walked miles in my sensible flats, but she wasn’t kidding when she said, “You’ll sleep when you get back home.” Luckily for me, my room at The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas had the world’s BEST bathroom — an incredible shower and two sinks all your own is a nice thing to wake up to when you’ve been in bed for three hours or less. 

I sadly spent very little time in my epic hotel room, which was so enormous that I never used an entire third of it. I had a wraparound couch. A WRAPAROUND COUCH. And I never sat on it. The bathroom, equally enormous, was in fact larger than my rabbit-hole-sized bedroom in my Manhattan apartment. I had one of those huge glass showers with gorgeous iridescent tiles — the kind of squeaky, daily-cleaned showers that makes you feel squeaky clean and excited about life, even though you’ve slept a total of eight hours in the past three days (that actually might have been the C.O. Bigelow peppermint body wash). As noted, my palatial bathroom had two sinks, which meant I had a tooth-brushing sink and a makeup-applying sink. Why not get the most out of your ridiculous digs, right?

My favorite feature was the separate room within the bathroom for the toilet — the isolation was likely due to the fact that the bathroom itself had a large window that looked into the living room / bedroom. On my first afternoon in Vegas, right after I’d landed and before the insanity of work began, I smiled to myself as I made friends with the toilet room. Why? Upon close examination, which is destined to happen when you’re walled in, doing whatever one generally does in toilet rooms, you discover that the intricately patterned wallpaper is actually interconnecting silhouettes of women.

I’m going to try to avoid going back to Vegas, but my hotel room made up for the fact that now I can’t say I haven’t been there. Besides two sinks, one bathtub, one enormous shower and one toilet room, my 39th floor room had a private balcony with a view of the Strip, the Eiffel Tower and the Bellagio fountains. Yeah. Did I watch five consecutive fountain shows during my only three hours off? I might be willing to admit to that.

Restroom Rating: [rating=5]