I would strongly advise against booking the Goldfinch room. Calling it a "luxury" room is incredibly misleading. At just 200 square feet, a full third is taken up by the bathroom, leaving the sleeping area feeling more like a phone booth—for those who remember phone booths.
There’s no closet, not even a coat hook. The bed is about as comfortable as a futon—firm, unyielding, and far from restful. To make things worse, the bed doesn’t even face the television (which hardly matters, since the only channels available were infomercials).
The room’s single window and its glass front door both face the lobby entrance, with bright lights shining through the blinds all night. It’s noisy, lacks privacy, and feels more like an afterthought than a guest room.
I later discovered that a room more than twice the size was just $10 more, which made the whole experience feel like a complete ripoff. This was a textbook case of putting lipstick on a pig: glossy description, deeply flawed execution.
I won’t be staying again—and I suggest you don’t either.
