I have heard nothing but raves and praise for the new, fabulous Hotel Za Za. It’s a hot, hip, trendy boutique hotel in a perfect location — right on the edge of downtown Houston and Montrose, close to West University, and right beside my favorite park. It was exactly where I wanted to be. So, I booked a room.
When you arrive at Za Za, they offer you champagne. I love champagne.
This was the all-time worst champagne I have ever had. (And I am not a champagne snob — I’ll drink the $6 Freixenet.)
At the front desk, they didn’t have my reservation. And they didn’t seem to have any interest in helping me book a room. I called the corporate travel agency for the magazine that booked my trip.
Are you at Za-Za? the agent asked. Let me talk to her.
I handed over my cell phone. I could hear the agent screaming, “We have a contract with this hotel! This reservation was confirmed three days ago!”
I heart having a travel agent.
I didn’t really think much of it — until I went out with my friends that night. We were drinking our weight in Miller Lite at the
Armadillo Palace (love that place — try the fries) when I mentioned it. (Because having a travel agent yell at the clerk was kinda one of the highlights of my day (as I’d spent the majority of it stuck in the airport)).
A friend of mine told me that she heard — and this, my lawyer friends tell me I must stipulate is totally a rumor (from a reliable source though)– that they hate Jews at this hotel. And that they refuse to book any reservation made under a Jewish-sounding last name.
Sigh.
This makes me sad. I almost checked out.
I wanted to love this hotel that brings a little tea candles and candy for turn-down service. I loved the Pez dispensers and chocolate-covered sunflower seeds — although, I could do without the inspirational saying of the day.
They are all about the love at Za-Za. The elevator says, “Hey, we love ya, at ZaZa!” The bathrooms by the pool are labeled “Gods” and “Goddesses.”
And in the honor bar are condoms.
For $20, the “mobile intimacy kit” includes two condoms, lube, and a itty-bitty vibrator.
In case you can’t read the back of the box, it says, “Pack Lighter– Pet Heavier.”
But, I wasn’t feeling the love at Za Za.
Right by the entrance to the hotel there is this sign:
And I kind of got the idea that despite what I thought were cute, stylish outfits — I was not dressed appropriately. The valets looked at me like I was a homeless person. “You’re staying here?” they said in a I-can’t-believe-we-let-this-tramp-in voice.
I’ve never been so happy to check out of a luxury hotel.
