Standing behind me in the elevator to my room in the Circus Circus Hotel and Casino were three men. They smelled of alcohol and were giggling as I stood staring at the buttons on the elevator.
“You look like a strawberry,” said one of the men behind me, followed by a sniff. “And you smell like one too.”
I stood terrified. My red hair and strawberry printed shirt had become a target of his cat-calling.
“Thanks,” I mumbled as the doors opened to let me out of my misery.
I ran to my room, scared they were going to follow me. That was just one of the experiences I had at the Circus Circus while being forced to live there, while my expected lodging at the Park Place wasn’t ready.
Hundreds of students and Reno residents were forced into rooms due to Park Place's slowed development.
Circus Circus remained my home for two months as I waited for my apartment complex to finish construction, and I was upset that I was stuck there.
For the 2021 to 2022 school year, I fell victim to the delayed construction at Park Place at Reno student housing. Park Place marketed “luxury” to the young students who signed leases with them, but soon, luxury fell into disrepair.
My overall experience at Park Place was subpar for all they marketed, but for now I will focus on the delayed move-in experience.
The complex was not even finished with construction at the time I signed my lease, but it seemed like the perfect option for me. It was close to campus, had amazing amenities and they pinky promised it would be ready in time.
In February, I started my apartment hunting process and the process was quick, but not because I wanted it to be. Through aggressive marketing tactics I was coerced into signing a lease after one day of contact. I was 18, I had never signed a lease before and they could tell. I signed away over $900 a month to a not-even-built apartment complex.
The following three days I was sent form after form, which I signed blindly because they kept threatening to raise fees if I did not sign by a certain date.
The move-in date was rapidly approaching, but the construction was moving too slowly to keep up with all of the students waiting to move in. In early July renters received a message that move-in was delayed until Sept. 15. I picked up my phone immediately and called my roommate.
“Did you see the email?” I said. “We have to move in to Circus Circus.”
This clown face greeted me everyday during my drive home from campus.
They blamed COVID-19 and supply chain issues. Yes, they did offer us a $1000 stipend, but we still had to pay our $900 rent for every month we were stuck in the hotel room.
We were just thrown back into the living arrangements that we sought to avoid: dorm life. I filled out our form and we were put into a double room.
We were called “troopers” throughout the whole process as they filled their emails with flowery words and empty promises.
Move-in was Aug. 30 and we were greeted by two queen sized beds with sterile white sheets. We made our way to the common area, which included some tables and chairs, a microwave and fridge. Although, it quickly became trashed by disgruntled college students.
The whole experience only went downhill. I was locked out of my room because the battery died in the lock, everyone shared the same hot, humid laundry room with washing machines without locks and the shuttle to campus was always late.
The shuttle was supposed to come every 10 minutes, but that schedule was never kept.
The hotel food court became my dinner table, eating there almost everyday, having Panda Express broccoli beef to get my “greens”.
The only thing we had to look forward to was the move-in date, but those hopes were quickly quashed when we got an email that move-in was moved to Sept. 24. I was one of the lucky ones who got the earlier move-in date—others were forced to stay in the hotel till Nov. 12.
I choked down my Panda Express for the next nine days and quickly packed my bags for the long awaited move–in.
In the actual complex, I was greeted with light gray walls, thin as paper, cramped parking spaces and the smell of wet paint.
For an apartment complex marketed as “luxury” my first impression was anything but.
That’s the issue with the recent influx of “luxury student housing.” It's really anything but. Their tactics to have students sign leases are aggressive, preying on young people with no contractual experiences.
This is also not a one off experience. Complexes are being erected at a light speed. Uncommon, Canyon Flats, The Dean, The Edison, the list goes on. These were all built quickly with the same formulaic structure: chalky gray walls and geometric construction. Move-in dates were delayed for several of these as well, while all charge upwards of $900 for paper thin walls and fake-nice front desk managers who “understand you”.
Take this as a word of advice from a student who has been burned before: slow down when choosing living arrangements.