We are getting older now and it is time to enjoy vacations to the fullest and stop depriving ourselves of the comforts of life. Like a condo — on a golf course.
I have always had a sleazy streak and gravitated to the worst hotel rooms in every town I visited. It was not only a question of economics, but also comfort in my surroundings. I hate carrying my gym bag-luggage into a nice hotel.
Naturally, I felt right at home when I first checked into the Royal Palm Motel in Fort Myers, Fla., back in 1993. It was the middle of a horrible winter, like the one we are currently suffering through. I was in the throes of a severe attack of cabin fever when the Boston Herald carried a travel story on the new home of the Red Sox in Fort Myers.
The story recommended a hotel called the Royal Palm (sounded great) within walking distance of the new park. I made the reservation, packed three T-shirts and headed south as fast as my Honda Civic would take me. I had a 10-day vacation. That meant two days driving down (I don’t fly) and two days driving back, leaving six glorious Civic-lagged days at the ballpark.
If I remember correctly (rarely), the rate was like $28 a day, for the smallest hotel room this side of Calcutta and a pool which was filled to capacity by four consenting adults. But, it was walking distance to the ballpark and was jammed filled with like-minded, daffy Red Sox fans from frozen New England.
A tradition was established and we stayed at “The Palm” each and every year even as the old gang got smaller every winter. The room rate, once the owners discovered how popular their place had become, increased every year.
When I stupidly brought the fastidious Blue Eyes to the Palm, she burst into tears. Something about the 432 dead bugs in the overhead light. We quickly adjourned to a nearby Holiday Inn, about 48 times better and only $12 more a night.
It was all right, I guess, but it was terribly clean.
Women.
She had her fill of baseball in one visit and I was back on my own. With the help of Hotels.com, Hotwire.com and a few other services, I would search each year for the cheapest room possible.
“The Palm” was torn down to build a new vacant lot and I had to start another search. Last year, I was back in the crappiest motel room in town, a mere $45 a day with a great pool and hot and cold running bugs. When fashionably Bohemian Bob came down for a few weeks, the rate fell to $22.50 a day, each. You can’t beat that, even if the palmetto bugs (nee cockroaches) refused to pay their share.
We hung out at a Motown bar called Ozzie’s (walking distance) where everyone told us we were idiots (we knew that) because for that money we could have rented a condo, with a living room and separate bedrooms, even.
Fabulously Wealthy John came down for a visit, rented a condo all by himself and demonstrated the errors of our ways. He even agreed to chip in, if we got serious in the future.
This year, we have reserved a glorious, three-bedroom condo on a golf course. With three people, the cost will be about $25 a day, each.
It is the end of an era. The era of crappy motel rooms. But we will be back at Ozzie’s most nights. We must respect our roots. Some things are sacred.
Send complaints and compliments to Emmet Meara at emmetmeara@msn.com.