The idea for a
micro-vacation started with a big pile of money.One boring day, the family sorted, counted and wrapped thousands of coins collected over the year. We netted $200.
While coin-counting, I recalled years ago when Max, now age 9, suggested that we eat out one night. "You don't have to spend any money," Max had said. "Just use your credit card."
We couldn't blame him for thinking credit is free. Whenever we eat out or travel, plastic pays.
Max had never known the pain of debt payment. It seemed plausible that he and his sister, Sydney, age 6, would grow up believing that an omnipotent force facilitated family vacations and dining out via convenient plastic transmitters.
We decided we would use this money for a micro-vacation. Everyone would learn that vacations are made of pennies, not plastic. And, as the end of summer approached, the children had not exercised their God-given right to a hotel stay.
Our restrictions were determined by time and weather conditions. We would limit ourselves to a one-night stay somewhere within two hours' drive, spend only $200 cash -- we traded the coins for greenbacks -- and reject camping options.
A weekday stay would be cheaper, which prompted the children's father to opt out, blaming his work schedule and raising suspicion that he would rather watch ESPN.
To defray costs, double our budget and provide peer companionship, we invited my friend, Patty Alexander, and her three children, Jesse, 8, Jamie, 6, and Jake, 2 1/2.
For reasons now forgotten, Patty and I avoided all of the quaint, inexpensive beach spots that we could have chosen, such as Fernandina Beach, St. Augustine or Canaveral National Seashore, which offer discounts for Florida residents.
Florida also has a number of state parks that provide cheap, educational entertainment.
Or we could have stayed 3 1/2 miles away from home, at one of the many hotels in Altamonte Springs.
Instead, we decided we wanted resort accommodations and, for us moms, easy access to cold beer and margaritas with facilities to entertain the children.
After intense investigation involving a Google search for "Orlando hotel waterslide resort," I reserved one night at the Caribe Royale All-Suites Resort & Convention Center.
We had a two-bedroom, two-bathroom "villa" with a full kitchen at a resort with a waterslide -- for $209. Its Web site boasted "45 acres of lush, tropical oasis."
Perfect. The children would frolic and the women would lie on chaise lounges, sipping frothy cocktails served by young, bare-chested manservants.
We left Ormond Beach at 10 o'clock Monday morning with five children and a cooler. One key to cheap travel is packing food.
Within 45 minutes, we had our first emergency stop for juice. Five minutes later, Jake triggered a fake restroom alert, causing our second stop in the 1 1/2-hour drive along I-4, which happens to be one of the ugliest routes in the state.
Since I forgot the $200 cash and no ATMs appeared within sight, we would be using a credit card for the whole trip.
When we arrived at the resort, the mauve and pink concrete structure that stood before us looked very little like a "lush, tropical oasis." I parked everyone by the lobby and stood in line for around 15 minutes, waiting to check in.
It must be said that what the hotel staff lacked in efficiency, they made up for with childlike, blank-faced smiles. We were given early check-in -- regular check-in isn't until 4 p.m.
We flung open the door to our first-floor villa and I smelled the same damp, tourist smell that permeates hotel rooms across the state.
The worn carpet and shiny bedspreads alerted me that the Caribe Royale did not fit my strict definition of "resort," which includes jasmine-scented quarters with sheet-wrapped top blankets and plush carpeting in rich colors.
Our villa overlooked the smaller of the property's two pools but offered no access, and we had to peer through bushes and a screened area to see it.
The kids loved it.
The children made demands involving food and sleeping arrangements, causing a minor uprising that had to be squelched by threats and intimidation.
A half-hour later, everyone had donned bathing suits and we trooped over to the main building for the 250,000-gallon swimming pool and 75-foot waterslide.
Upon first glance, I saw a pool filled with many, many happy, pasty-colored tourists and hundreds of lounge chairs crammed together over every available deck space.
The four oldest kids shouted with delight and immediately rode down the waterslide dozens of times. There was, sadly, not a young, bare-chested manservant in sight. I did find a chubby, middle-aged man tending a tiki bar where I purchased a Gold margarita for $6.50 and a Coors Light for $4.50, plus gratuity.
The syrupy-tasting margarita had black flecks floating in it, which the bartender claimed were lime stem particles.
I apologized repeatedly and profusely to Patty, as she stood ankle deep in the baby pool with a half dozen toddlers, about the series of unfortunate events that led to our being involved in a trip meant only for Europeans.
Around then, Max came by.
"This is the best pool ever," he declared.
He would repeat this sentiment later when he declared, "This is the best hotel ever."
We decided to eat at the Rainforest Cafe in the Disney area that night. Though we had "express passes" from the hotel to reduce our wait time, we waited. First we waited outside. Then, our party was called and we waited in line inside. Then we moved to another line where we waited.
Then we sat, ordered, and waited for our food.
We watched several fake thunderstorms produced by the restaurant's special effects. Two spilled drinks later, we received our food. We were surprised that while the service was mediocre, the food was good. The bill for two adults and five children totaled $112, including gratuity.
Despite the late hour, we had promised the children that they could watch television before bed. But, the television in the four children's room, curiously, only had clear reception on the Disney promotional channel, running a continual ad for the theme parks.
The kids loved it.
"This is a good show," Sydney declared more than once.
Jake stayed awake much of the night, as he did not find the couch bed to his liking after he fell off of it.
We had another swim in the pool before packing up to leave.
The kids loved it.
I made further vain attempts to locate an aesthetically-pleasing manservant, and then sat in a shaded lounge chair sipping coffee. I felt a breeze and watched the kids play in the pool.
For that moment, even I loved it.
It was worth every penny.