Home Sweet Home

Homebody:  [hōmbäd′ē] – a person mainly concerned with affairs of the home or one who prefers to stay at home.

Yep, that’s pretty much my M.O.  except for the red shoes. NoPlaceLikeHome

Being places, seeing family and friends, those things are fun.  Traveling to get there is not.  First, I’m obsessing about what to pack, how many meds, supplies, equipment, extra, etc., will I need to last me until I return home.  Because there is always that – thing hanging over me.  I don’t even know what the item is!  But it is the one I completely forgot that is critical to have.  This horrible fear of screwing up is agony.  Why don’t I trust myself?  I made my list and checked everything off.  I packed my suitcase like an overstuffed parlor chair.

Then, I open the fridge door to grab my water bottle as we leave for the airport.  At this moment, my heart stops, and I can’t breathe.  I see the little drawer I keep my insulin in – that was not packed. This is why I don’t trust myself!  I can’t stop beating myself up about it.  I imagined my pump alerting me to change it to a new one and realizing I had not packed the insulin.  Whew!  Close call there, but no harm done.  Not physically.

Because of approaching snowstorms, I am dumped off at an airport hotel the day before my flight.  It took until noon to dig the cars out from the previous night’s snowfall.  Then another 3 hours to navigate icy mountain roads to Sacramento – normally a 2-hour trip.  After a quick kiss and hug goodbye, hubby & son were back on the road, hoping to beat the incoming storm home.  I was able to relax here in a hotel, alone, with power.  I felt almost giddy.  I could even watch a movie on TV.  The mountain has not had electricity since the last week.  I almost felt guilty.  I got over it.

After a leisurely shower, I watched a movie, wrote in my journal, and slept like the dead.  The 4:30 am wake-up call got me outta bed and repacking.  I wanted to “gussy up”, but in the hideous fluorescent bathroom lighting, no amount of makeup or hairspray could help me look better than a morgue shot.

I was looking forward to a large coffee at the airport, but the coffee shop line was so long that I had to get out of line to make my flight.  I was still feeling edgy from nearly leaving my insulin in the hotel room fridge.  Thank you, Guardian Angel!

I can’t leave home without him 🙂

TTFN

Well, That Ain’t Right

My traveler’s curse reared its ugly head the second we entered our 3rd-floor corner room.

Up until that moment, the hotel was a normal Hilton. The neat and pretty entranceway, the lobby was over-decorated with holiday lights and blinking snowmen, but it was definitely a Hilton Hotel. I purposely chose Hilton because I wanted a high-end, luxurious place to hang out in when we were not on the beach. Sigh.

The room was so sparse and empty that it appeared it had been robbed before we got there. When you entered, you were in the “living room” area. A sofa, desk and a large old chair. Nothing matched the other. No carpets, area rugs, pillows. No overhead light. When you flipped the switch by the door, a dim round light came on in the tiny hallway that connected the living room, bathroom, and bedroom.

The light switch in the bedroom turned off the dome light. There was no overhead light fixture here either. So forget trying to find your p.j.’s in your luggage. It was dark. Oh, wait! There were two lamps by the beds. They did not shed light on the room though. They were lights to read in bed with. LED penlights on swivels, mounted into the wall between the two beds. BTW, the light you can see in the photo is sunshine.

The bathroom had good lighting, but it was noisy. They had the fan attached to the switch, so it was all or nothing. They must have purchased the T.P. and tissues from China. Thin, one-ply, recycled sandpaper. There was no toilet roll holder, so the TP sat in a cubby hole under the counter. It was sad. At least this room had a small trash can. None in the living or bedrooms, not even one by the desk.

Our “kitchen” was a long table that was nailed to the wall, like a shelf. We had a small microwave and a little one-cup Keurig coffee maker. Coffee pods, sugar & creamer were next to it. No coffee cups, however. I called the front desk and requested coffee cups. An hour later, a worker showed up with a plastic bag full of K-cups and packets of sugar & creamer. No cups to make and drink the coffee. I sighed and called the desk again, explaining that we were good with supplies but we needed the cups to drink the coffee out of. An hour passed and I called to check on our request. They asked me to check the outside of the door because that is where they probably hung the bag. No bag. They will be right up, she assured me. I found the cups hanging outside the door before I went to bed. It was a darned shame that the coffee pot did not work right. That was not much of a surprise, considering.

Below the microwave was a baby refrigerator that had NO temp controls inside of it. I looked inside it and all around the outside. No control dial or button of any kind. I asked Maggie to look for one, in case I missed it. Nope, it does not. I put my insulin on the lowest shelf in the door and hoped it would not freeze. It did not. The back of the unit was what froze things. You learned things as you go at this Hilton.

The next day, I wanted to get a different room, but Maggie did not think it would make any difference. She peeked into other rooms when housekeeping was in there and they were just like ours. I decided to give it another day. Besides, the sun was out, the air was warm and sultry, and the beach was calling us. We spent as much time in the sun as we could stand.

The winds were so strong! They did have red flag warnings out because of the wind. It was a warm wind, so that was not the problem. My beach hat was equipped with a strap to keep it from blowing off my head. But the wind had its fun with the hat anyway and the thing beat my head and face the whole time. I was not having fun, so I left Maggie happily in her beach chair, reading her book and I went back to our not-so-Hilton room. We did have a balcony that sheltered us from most of the wind and when it was sunny out we could be out and not in the room.

View from Room 301

The balcony had a fabulous view. I wrote in my journal and enjoyed the sun without wind. I caught myself dozing off, but I did not want to take a nap in our room because it was cold in there. The heater/AC controls did not change anything. The fan blew cold air 24/7 – even when the unit was turned off.

Karma must have been getting back at us for having our window open in the winter at college and freezing out the whole 3rd floor. If you or someone you know roomed in the North Tower, 3rd floor 77-78 at SEMO, please accept my apologies.

To be continued…

Thinking Inside the Box

Remember that TV show where these alien creatures sat in a movie theater and dissed whatever movies, or music videos were being featured?

This is my version of that… The grey text was taken directly out of an online Travel website article. The purple text is me.

“The world’s first and only underwater inn is the Jules’ Undersea Lodge in Key Largo, Florida. Guests scuba dive about 20 feet to enter the inn, which is a converted naval station. You enter through a pool and an airlock; once inside, you breathe and walk around normally. At night, escaping air creates a soothing, bubbling sound that is supposed to encourage your body to have an astonishingly restful sleep.”

Let me interject for a moment. There are a few lies in the above statement:

  • No one (except for the military) is allowed to convert naval stations, into anything. Oh, and even submarine bases are above the water.
  • Bubbling sounds of escaping air will not encourage any part of my body to have a restful sleep, and if so, I would be astonished! 

“Typical rate is $375 a night, per person. As a rule, only certified divers can visit. But, for a fee, you can learn enough about diving to qualify to float down to the entrance. And for an extra charge, you can get an advanced diving certification during your stay. Breakfast and dinner are served at set times. The lodge typically hosts two couples.”

Oh my!  My ribs are killing me and I want to pee so bad…

$375 per person, per night? HA!  HA!  You cannot get a Hilton hotel, for less than $450 per night in California, and it is a non-exciting, bland room. In fact, some of them don’t even have room service.

The true cost must be $3,750. Typo, you know.

Only Certified Divers are allowed to access the hotel, BUT for an extra, (undisclosed amount, did you see that?), fee, they can teach you enough so you can float down to the hotel. So, which is it? Dive or float

Multi-room underwater hotels may be on the way. Four companies claim that they will open hotels underwater within the next few years in Fiji, Istanbul, Korea, and Dubai….

HotelChatter has been tracking many of these announcements and doesn’t believe a word of them. Even if the hotels do materialize, they won’t be for budget travelers. Room rates will start at about $1,500 a night.

Did you catch that? Starting at $1,500 a night. For what is bound to be the formerly trashed room that leaks.

I think for my money, I will take my $1,500 and stay at a Hyatt Regency, where I will relax on the beach, and not under it.

♥  TTFN  ♥