The blinding “energizing light” in the bathroom designed to boost your energy by suppressing melatonin actually seemed to help, especially the next morning after an hour-and-a-half night’s sleep. Also in the bathroom: an attachment to the shower head that looked like a supersized orange prescription tube — the “vitamin C shower infuser” — was supposed to rehydrate my skin. I can’t say it appeared dewier. (I also took a swig of the water to see if it tasted unusual or perhaps like orange Tang but alas, no.)

I was looking forward to some sort of video enlightenment from Dr. Chopra given that there was a designated “wellness room channel,” but all I saw was an overview of the room features, which included Electric Field Shielding technology (designed to prevent “electric fields” from keeping me up at night), an air purification system, carbon water filters, and antimicrobial coating on the bathroom floor. Maybe these things were doing me wonders, maybe they weren’t. I stayed for three nights and couldn’t tell. (In the end, my opinion of the hotel did not change though thankfully my neighbors did.)

Things began looking up when the people next door went out for the night. As I climbed into my hypoallergenic bed, I opened an envelope given to me during check-in. Inside were certificates for online wellness programs from the Cleveland Clinic to be used after returning home.

I pulled one out. “Stress Free Now,” it said. Among the promises to those who enrolled: “Be able to enjoy the present — and worry less about the future.”

Touché.

I decided to relish the silence of my room, for as long as it would last. I put the certificate on the bedside table and switched off the light.

The flights of stairs that float pedestrians above busy intersections along the Strip allow for an invigorating morning warm-up, though not realizing how many there were, they also made me late for the 8:30 a.m. Yoga Among the Dolphins class. When at last I arrived, I entered a dim, cerulean underwater room that abuts part of an open-air dolphin habitat and took my place on a mat among four other students — all women, though the class, the instructor said, usually has men, too. Through the large windows we watched the dolphins and they watched us. Their presence was soothing, and when sunlight streamed down through the water, the room suddenly possessed the childhood magic of an under-the-blanket fort. That said, I find it difficult to observe animals in captivity, no matter how well they might be treated. And so, no, I hadn’t been looking at a certain dolphin when in midstretch the woman to my left blurted out: “Is that his penis?” The room erupted in squeals.

The hourlong class (peep-show not guaranteed) is $50 and includes a post-yoga smoothie but, more important, all-day access to the Mirage’s spa.