Did I tell you about the roach I met at the pool? Rme. Sure, it's "inexpensive" for LAX, but does that warrant critters? If you're hurting on dollars, do yourself a favor and stay at the Four Points instead.
The Radisson has a nice lobby to visit, but I wouldn’t wanna’ stay there (again). O_O
And once you get upstairs, all bets are OFF. The hallways are just shady. Before you even get to a hallway, you’ll have to make it past the elevator drama.
Some gangster-esque “ride-or-die chick” says to her beau: "Who steals jewelry in 2011 anyway? All we gotta’ do is go to they neighborhood. E’rybody gon’ know it was Crenshaw Mafia hood.”
Oh, you can’t imagine how deeply burning was my desire to scooch over, but I didn’t want to seem like a wuss. So I put on my NYC hardcore face and braved it.
Her beau ([or is that "boo"?], LA’s own “Lil’ Wayne”, replied in a solemn voice, “Yeyah.”
Ugh! Thank God for elevator doors and separate floors!
But once on my floor, I wasn’t any more comforted. Trash lined up along the hallway in front of doors. My own room was, I guess, on the wrong floor. I was given 1007, and thank Heavens I’m a genius (:-p) because someone else may have seen “007” and thought, “Oh no, I’m on the zeroeth floor!” :-p
Sad part is: this room was my “upgrade” after I endured 5 minutes in a different mold-encrusted room. [See the yucky evidence--photos uploaded to Yelp!] The move was better only in that the room was larger, and the ominous stench of cigarette smoke wasn’t upon me.
Though I was booked for several days--the first thing in the morning--I bailed to the Sheraton Gateway, the next hotel eastward on Century Boulevard’s row. My 5-year-old was due to join me, and there was NO way that my inestimable offspring would be dousing herself in the Radisson’s mold-be-blackened bathtub.
Thankfully, Carlson hotels (the Radisson's parent company) offer a money-back guarantee. I was provided a full refund as well as dinner at Palmira Bar & Grill.
In fact, the only things positive about the Ol’ Radi are the service/staff and Palmira. Palmira’s food is on the oily side, but it sticks to the tum.
For the business traveler or she who is a hotel regular (comme moi), it’s a welcome reprieve from insta-food and “continental” cuisine (a euphemism for “sandwiches”.) The bar inside Palmira pours heavy, a stark contrast to the lobby bar, which possesses an undeserved sense of chi chi.
At the end of the day, I wouldn’t stay at the Radisson unless I were shacking up with a lover. In other words, I’d have to be so ensconced that I didn’t care about the moldy bathroom, nor the filth-laden hallways, nor the broken SleepNumber bed, nor the… ick!
hotel reviews