A faint clickety-click sound catches my attention and I glance down to see one of those really nauseating toy Chihuahuas (sorry Paris) skittering along the marble floor oddly paired with a heavyset, bald man (yes, they have some pet-friendly rooms here, and if allergies bug you, don’t worry, they’ve quarantined all four-legged friends to their very own floor). Meanwhile, a tall, beautiful Persol-speckled couple catwalk through in time to John Mayer’s pop tune No Such Thing as a young, blonde mom rolls her baby in a chic Peg-Perego stroller into the elevator (yes, they’re child-friendly here too).

As I’m watching the people, I suddenly feel like I’m the one being watched. I slowly turn around and in a scene straight out of Laurel and Hardy, I jump at the gaze of the security guard over by the elevator. He quickly looks away and then I catch him eyeing me a few more times before I signal for him to come over so I can introduce myself and defuse his suspicions about my note-taking, terrorist behavior.

Two scruffy, LA-looking creative types with baseball caps turned backwards emerge from the elevator holding videocams—followed by a “director” barking orders to a gaggle of sexy models. Suddenly, like a scene out of a movie, three candy-colored Gallardos obnoxiously scream up in front of the hotel and draw considerable attention to the promotion that Lamborghini is throwing here. Really! Why would anyone want to drive a car that makes that much noise? I’ll bet here in the city, they can rev these monsters up to what, oh, about 28 mph. I'll take the quiet Mercedes SL65 with 600-horsepower bi-turbo motor.

I check in, and the front desk informs me that the gorgeous seven-foot fresh floral bouquet looming over us isn't really fresh at all—wait, you mean it’s fake? She also reveals that Andi Pepper is the hotel's designer. Batabingo! See, I’m not crazy! That explains the déjà vu! Just the other day I was telling you about the Library Hotel and Pepper’s design sagacity. She perspicaciously pulls together tight, tailored looks while juxtaposing hot and cold textures—velour and brushed suede with leather, aluminum and glass—dark, rich woods with light-colored fabrics. She’s also inclined to employ a sophisticated and handsome color palette of black, taupe, brown and cream into her modern/minimalist style.

I snag a seat at Ono next to two 40-something women—also from LA (well, Newport Beach actually)—who appear slightly tipsy from whatever it was they were up to last night. A conversation ensues. They’ve booked the hotel’s High-Roller package—a special promotion that came in through an email. Hold on ladies, before you divulge what’s in that High-Roller deal, please excuse me while I order.

Yes, I’ll have the Eggs Florentine (two poached eggs on a bed of sautéed baby spinach with hollandaise sauce and black truffles served with breakfast potatoes and choice of toast or bagel. Some coffee and OJ, please. The presentation of everything I see passing around is awesome. Large portions and the breakfast is really, really yummy.

The High-Roller gals explain that for 5000 bucks they’re staying in the huge duplex penthouse suite with Jacuzzi. They have car service to/from the airport; chocolate-covered strawberries and Dom Perignon were sitting in their suite upon arrival. Today they’ll enjoy a spa day at Eva Scrivo Salon, and later, dinner for two right here at Ono. They have access to the hotel’s private poolside deck and late, late tonight they’ll have a table for ten and a personalized lifetime membership to Lotus (the hot NY club), plus (something these gals could really use) a bottle of hangover tonic.