In the pulsating heart of Las Vegas, where the din of slot machines and the allure of neon lights beckon, a technological mishap brought an unexpected pause to the usual seamless stream of check-ins. An ordinary Tuesday afternoon turned into a marathon of patience for the eager guests of several renowned MGM Resorts International hotel-casinos, as they were met with hours-long queues that snaked through opulent lobbies.
At the New York-New York Hotel & Casino, the storied replica of the Big Apple, travelers found themselves languishing in lines that stretched for as long as three hours. The promise of plush rooms and the chance to unwind after journeys from far and wide loomed tantalizingly out of reach as they awaited their turn to exchange ID and credit card for room keys.
Amidst the throng, Texan traveler Tim Grant found a silver lining. He had progressed but half the distance towards the check-in desk since joining the queue. With a gesture, he indicated the disheartening length he had yet to conquer. Grant, nevertheless, expressed gratitude for the staff’s gestures as they navigated the sea of disarray, distributing bottles of water and vouchers to the parched and the restless. These tokens of goodwill were a testament to the unwavering customer service for which New York-New York is known. “Nobody wants to wait in line but everyone is doing what they can,” he said, echoing the collective resilience.
Meanwhile, over at the Excalibur, the medieval-themed retreat, Michigan’s Kevin Conaway was ensnared in the same sluggish tide of paused travelers. Word had trickled down the line that it might be a four-hour holdup—an edict that hung heavily over those in waiting. Conaway remarked on the need for better communication, craving explanation and reassurance. His family, though, found solace elsewhere. Unwilling to share in Conaway’s vigil, they sought refuge from the heat and the hapless queue, making a beeline for the pool’s cooling embrace.
Guests at the Luxor, too, famed for its iconic pyramid structure and enigmatic sphinx, encountered a reluctant wait, stretching to about an hour. Rumors of a computer issue that plagued the check-in systems circulated, a cybernetic cloud casting its shadow over the processes that usually whirred quietly behind the scenes.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the city’s lights began their nightly spectacle, the snarls of congestion began to dissolve. By 5 p.m., the queues had dwindled, returning to their familiar brisk pace, much to the relief of staff and guests alike.
An MGM spokesperson addressed the episode with a terse explanation, confirming to KLAS that a brief system downtime had indeed rippled through the front desks of their Las Vegas properties on that fateful afternoon. Yet what precisely led to this disruption remained shrouded in mystery, uncommented upon in the desert night.
