No room at Marriott's Inn

Marriott Hotels reservation people have a wicked sense of humor. Our recent jaunt to Jacksonville and our brief stay at the Inn at Mayo Clinic gives evidence to that.



You'd think that any hotel located on the campus of the Mayo Clinic would be designed to accommodate people with health issues. And, you would be wrong. Reading their propaganda online they describe their facility as having:

• 78 suites with full kitchens
  
• Beautifully appointed, spacious suites with living and sleeping areas


• Fully equipped kitchen features stove, refrigerator, microwave, in-room coffee & tea


• Cable TV, 2-line phone, hair dryer, iron/ironing board. Free high speed internet.


• Includes 26 rooms with one queen and one full bed


• Complimentary services: grocery shopping, Continental breakfast, campus shuttle, internet

Doesn't it sound like a lovely spot? Yet no mention of disabilities, handicap accessible. We're the ugly stepchildren they shove behind the door. Not good for their image to mention that they accomodate less than perfectly beautiful people.



Needless to say, I already carried prejudice against this particular hotel. It had taken me quite awhile to get over our last fiasco there. I have reached a certain age or maybe it is mind set about clean. A trip to any hotel makes me wonder about who was there before me, what they DID in that bed or on that bedspread and had it been cleaned? I know, I watch too many of those CSI type shows and have seen the semen and bodily fluid patterns floresce across the bedspread and carpet and let's just say that the last time at the Inn, I didn't need special equipment to see the offal left by previous inhabitants.



Derrol made the reservations -- spoke to two different people, one being Marriott's advocate for people with disabilities, he told me. They had assured him that the Inn had what he needed and he didn't need to go to any other hotel for the accommodations he requested.



Now, it is one thing to demand a king-sized bed or a room with a kitchenette or even smoking privileges But he needed handicap accessible WITH a roll-in shower. It wasn't a 'I prefer' kind of request. It was an 'I need.'



No problem, he was told. No problem. He believed them. He's gullible that way -- he always tries to believe. After all the Inn is located on the campus of the Mayo Clinic -- within a few steps of the Cannary Building's front door. A few more steps from their newly built state of the art hospital and Davis Building. A hotel accommodation in such a setting would be geared toward the guests needs.



I noted as we trundled (unaided) our oxygen tank, suitcase, bi-pap breathing machinery and computer down the hall to our room -- 207 -- that the Inn offered amazingly huge suites on the first floor close to the lobby. Those I suspect were reserved for the CEOs and wealthy clients who came to Mayo for their annual physicals -- paid for by corporate dollars. Or perhaps for the contributors and board members who kept Mayo endowed and one of the premiere medical facilities in the world.



Derrol wheeled past those, onto the elevator. You know the kind that have a sign that says "Use the stairs in case of an emergency.' Of course I wonder why a guy in a wheelchair is being sent to the second floor without an exit strategy to accommodate him.



I braced myself for a less than pristine room. But I was pleasantly surprised. When I swung open the door and before it came back to smack me in the face, I saw a well cleaned suite. A kitchenette, a little seating area, and a bed that stood higher -- to accommodate those who don't get up and down so well.



We struggled through the door that was determined to shut us out -- maybe we should have taken that as an omen. I noticed that the Inn definitely is overdue for an upgrade and remodel, but I can overlook shabby or ill use as long as it is clean. (If you read their online description, it is 'newly remodeled.')



Already I adjusted my opinion of the Inn upward and was just ready to relax and enjoy our little stay when I saw the bathroom. Yes Derrol could get through the wide doorway. Yes the sink was the kind one could roll a wheelchair under. And yes it had grab bars around the toilet and in the -- wait for it -- bathtub.



No roll in shower. A high, high bathtub shower combo. We stared as if hoping it would morph into the right accommodations, the one we reserved.

A phone call to the front desk told us that our reservations simply mean NOTHING. We can request all we want but if they don't have the room available by the time we check in -- we're out of luck. Happens that the ONE room they have at the Inn of Mayo Clinic had been occupied for several days. It was occupied at the time Derrol made his reservation. Apparently the Inn of Mayo Clinic has only one room with a roll in shower. One other handicap accessible room with a walk in shower and a total of five or maybe it was six rooms that are handicap accessible. That's all.

The desk clerk suggested we could move to a room with a walk in shower -- but it wasn't a handicap accessible room. That translated into 'he can't get his wheelchair through the door to the shower.' It meant -- no grab bars, no roll under sink, no high bed, no accommodations to his physical needs. She said she'd be glad to call around and find us a room elsewhere. At 8 p.m. after a long day of work and two hours of driving, we asked if she was nuts. We had to be at Mayo by 7 a.m. the next morning -- did we want to add drive time in morning traffic to that as well?



Not to whine, but have you ever considered what it takes to load and unload his life support equipment let alone getting him into the van via the lift and transferred to the driver's seat and .... We no longer jump in the car and away we go. It takes time and effort and a lot more stamina than we had at the moment.



We could make do. Derrol washed up at the sink as best he can since the stopper didn't work and the sink wouldn't hold water. He was just struggling out of his last stitch of clothing when the room filled with a horrendous shriek and flashing lights. I shrieked back and rushed to the wall to flip a light switch. A strange reaction to a blaring fire alarm, I admit. But I had heard when I tried the switch earlier a strange static crackling. Evidently it shorts out the fire alarm. That electrical switch also controls the plug in for the alarm clock. Thankfully neither of us have a heart condition. The desk clerk when I called said it was a false alarm -- as if she were waiting for the phone call!



By the time we got in bed I was wide awake, laying there preparing myself for the next nasty surprise. It didn't take us long to get dressed and pack up all of his equipment and get the hell out of that room the next morning.



I talked to the new clerk at the desk the next morning and told her our concerns about making reservations. She sighed with frustration and shook her head. "We all deal with this every day. We can't accommodate the needs of our guests and it bothers all of us who work here."



I asked if they're scheduled for a remodel? She brightened and said, "Yes, probably next year."



Unless someone alerts the powers that be at Marriott that The Inn at Mayo Clinic has a high number of people with disabilities as their guests -- the situation will not improve.



We spread the word at Mayo about our stay and the shortage of rooms at the Inn. If Mayo Clinic would put pressure on Marriott, perhaps that would go a long way to getting changes made. I also contacted Marriott after we returned home. No reply thus far. I made suggestions, offered our help in designing rooms, offered to name names of people who make it their business to know about accommodating people with limitations.



But the scary thing is making the reservations. We're planning a long road trip to Ohio and I don't know that any hotel can actually guarantee accommodations that meet our needs. What kind of nasty surprises will we encounter a thousand miles from home? What if Derrol is hurt trying to 'make do' without assistance? Our fun vacation is already turning into a nightmare.

Squirrel Surprise

My cousin MJ and her husband are heading to our house for a visit. They are packing up their 35-foot long luxury motor home and will soon be heading south from their home in Arizona. She has been cleaning and purging, stocking up on food and comfort items for the trip. But before they head out, I just hope her husband checks for squirrel gifts.

They know what I mean. Every RVer knows what I mean. You get a dozen RVers in a room and they will all have at least one squirrel story.

MJ’s most harrowing happened on a trip leaving Arizona and heading to their summer home nestled in a lovely hundred-acre woods in central Ohio. The RV kept speeding along until it became a battle of wills between driver and driven. The only way MJ’s husband could keep the RV from speeding out of control was to drive with his foot on the brake.

When they came to a campground, he slowed enough for MJ to jump out and warn the man in charge that they had a runaway.

“Ask him if he can let us through to a camping spot where I can stop by killing the engine,” he yelled as the RV took off.

The man nodded agreement and he and MJ hopped on his golf cart to lead the way. Her husband tromped on the brakes narrowly missing the building at the campground entrance. He fought the RV like a cow boy breaking a bronco. His behemoth shadowed the little golf cart nearly pushing it along as the man sped down the road to a camping spot.

He pointed at one “I thought I’d give him that one…” but the big RV pushed him past.

“How about this one?” He asked pointing at a spot where her husband was already maneuvering into place before killing the engine and coming to an abrupt stop. He pulled on the emergency brakes and rested his head on the steering wheel.

As soon as he could breathe normally and the campgrounds owner calmed down enough to return to his work, MJ’s husband released the hood. His head and shoulders disappeared within the engine as he tinkered and checked for the malfunction.

A group of kids gathered to ask, “What ya doin mister?” “You sure drive like a lunatic.”

He ground his teeth and kept working. The kids stood silent, watching the stranger tinker with the steaming engine. It wasn’t long before his voice rang through the campgrounds and heads nodded in understanding: “Squirrels!”

MJ’s husband held out his hands dripping with hickory nuts. Squirrels are great little saboteurs.

MJ stored hickory nuts in their garage back home until she would find time to pick the juicy meats out and make cookies and cakes. Squirrels love hickory nuts, too, and stashed a few away for their own use. All was fine until the unsuspecting travelers started back to Ohio. The nuts worked their way down into the manifold causing Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride into the campground.

"Memories! That was one of the scariest," MJ said. "I wonder why we still do it."

Her brother-in-law's squirrel encounter came to a head when he turned the key and started the engine of his motor home. The little critters had put nuts in the engine in such a way that when he started the engine, the fan propelled the nuts right through the radiator. One new radiator later and he learned to check under the hood first.

So, if you’re reading this MJ, just remind your honey to check for squirrel surprises. Can't wait for our visit and to hear of your latest adventures.

Any RVers out there want to share your squirrel stories?

Tuesday Travel: Hidden Secrets in Central Florida

Since coming to Florida almost three years ago, each day uncovers a new surprise.

The first day we arrived here to house hunt, the day after Hurricane Charley visited, the anoles -- little lizards with detachable tails -- taught me about surviving disasters and going about business as usual.

Mention Central Florida and people think: Orlando. And that leads to Disney World. But Florida is so much more than theme parks. This past February, my husband and I discovered a well kept secret: Polk County.

We felt the breeze freshen and smelled orange blossoms as soon as we crossed the county line. Located next door to Orange County with Disney and theme parks galore, Polk County seems like the country cousin. With 626,634 acres devoted to agriculture, including citrus groves and 554 lakes, much of the land remains under-developed or reserved for pasture. But don't let that country facade fool you. Some of the sweetest treats lurk near those citrus groves.

Lang's Sun Country Groves run a quaint little cafe and gift shop: Taste of Florida which is located halfway between Haines City and Lake Alfred at 5900 U.S. Hwy 17& 92. There they serve the freshest produce, including their own blend of fresh-squeezed orange juice from fruit grown in the family's groves. They ship produce all over the U.S. and we were told that Oprah, and Martha Stewart prefer Langs products. When visiting their cafe, order the grapefruit pie, a recipe perfected by the original owner, Mary Lang, who continues to do the pie baking. She hasn't given the rolling pin over to the next generation, yet.

Sadly the cafe closes in May when the citrus harvest ends, but opens again in October or November.

Davidsons of Dundee, located on U.S. Hwy 27, in Dundee, specializes in unique citrus candy that they make right on the premises. Visitors to their gift shop can watch the candy making process through large glass windows. You may have seen them featured on the Food Channel.

For a special dining experience, make reservations at Chalet Suzanne: 3800 Chalet Suzanne Drive in Lake Wales. The chalet and adjacent motel look like it was built by some architect gnome on hallucinogens. But that's part of the charm. Inside nothing matches -- chairs, tables, place settings -- all mix and match in a romantic setting that has drawn celebrities and plain folk alike. If you get the owner to reminisce, you're in for a treat. Chalet Suzanne also comes with an airfield where guests can fly in for dinner and fly back out again. Expect to spend some serious money at this stop.

And there is more to Polk County than food, although I've barely begun to mention all of the delightful little diners and cafes and country breakfasts....

But when you aren't eating, visit some of their entertain venues: Historic Bok Sanctuary, Cypress Gardens, Fantasy of Flight Museum....

For more indepth information about Polk County and what it has to offer -- at prices much nicer to your pocketbook than the theme parks, check out http://www.visitcentralflorida.org/

Indian Trash

Since moving to Central Florida a couple of years ago, we have avoided the usual entertainment outlets. Instead my husband and I have tried to find the old Florida, what was here before Disney, before housing developments transformed the landscape into miles of cement.

My first trip to Florida, like many Americans with new automobiles looking for a place to go, was in the late 1950s, early '60s. I, a bookish eight-year-old, traveled with my parents and older brother to visit an Aunt and Uncle in Pompano Beach. It was a summer of firsts -- first view of the ocean, first encounter with sand burrs, first kumquat picked fresh from the tree, and first breath of fresh salt air. For my brother it was his first encounter with beach parties and bikini clad beauties and other firsts he would never tell me about.

For decades I proclaimed that I didn't like Florida -- too humid, too buggy, the usual complaints. But now that my husband's job dragged us to the region, we can barely remember living anywhere else. Yesterday we found one of those spots that remind us that Florida has a history beyond theme parks and Spring Break.

Traveling Scenic Highway 1, we stopped at a little park near a small farming community named Oak Hill. The park, protected by the National Parks Service, is named Seminole Rest. Not one piece of trash marred the surface of this little gem. An unblemished cement walkway meandered through this spit of land that fronted onto saltwater: Mosquito Lagoon, making it handicap accessible. The first thing I noticed were the little Fiddler Crabs sidestepping along the waterline.

Plaques told us that the Timucuan Indians visited this place, harvested clams from the water and discarded the shells in what became an 18-foot high mound. The Wesley Snyder family bought the land, protected the mound from pillaging by the highway department. Many similar mounds were used as road bed for the burgeoning highway network back in the 1920s-30s.

The Snyder's also maintained the caretaker's cottage, built shortly after the Civil War and the main house, built at the turn of the 20th century. The atmosphere is one of peace, calm which seems in contrast with the harshly wind-sculpted oak and pine trees growing on the mound.

We will return to this spot -- a land fill of ancient times. The Timucuan Indians visited this spot about 1400 BC, and resided there even earlier as evidenced by shards of pottery mixed in with the shells.

Here's information about Seminole Rest: http://www.nbbd.com/godo/cns/Brochures/SeminoleRest/index.html