We went on an ooh la la vacation to the Ritz. The one on the beach in Naples. I learned there are two; another at the golf course. I am not kidding about the oh la la. The sheets felt like one million count satin-y cotton. There was music playing as we entered the room. Hardwood floors and a flat screen plasma TV. Bulgari soaps and shampoos. We walked barefoot on the beach to dinner. A balcony, with two chairs and a small table that to the right looked over the green trees and scenery of Naples and to the left showcased a stunning view of the Gulf of Mexico, 12 stories high. In the morning, with the complimentary New York Times, I sat and watched dolphins play in the waters of the Gulf. There were two pools. After enjoying both, I got sick. Not so ooh la la. Maybe it was the heavy dinner from the night before, filet, mashed potatoes with dill and a chopped salad with champagne vinaigrette. Or just the stomach of a 90 year old women I have been blessed with. On came 'rhea at the Ritz.
It hit me out of nowhere. I enjoyed my pool time, relaxed with the most glorious chaise lounge. Four hours in the sun, three magazines, complimentary orange smoothies. They are genius there, they added a small hood to the towels to attach them to the chairs. Preventing the age old problem of towel slippage against your wet bathing suited body. Then I felt a pang and panic. It was this day that I attempt to look sophisticated and sport the one piece black swim suit. One piece?? I need a bathroom fast and to get that suit off stat. I rush inside and close both bathroom doors. Yes, they have a suite for just the commode. Yet, for all the gloriousness that our accommodations provided, these so called genuises, they skimped on the toilet paper. Rolled elegantly underneath the silver chrome holder was single ply paper that was classified somewhere between loose leaf notebook and card board. The most horrific thing I have ever taken to my butt. I think I get the expression, tore me a new one. As if the 'rhea wasn't bad enough. Would one less crystal dish soap container been anything to cry about, when it could have provided for Charmin? I would gladly trade fresh lilacs at night for the cotton-y goodness of Angel Soft. Nothing fancy schmancy about crappy toilet paper. Literally.
Despite this, there is one perk that having 'rhea at the Ritz provides. A telephone in the bathroom. You can call to the main room. I had Magoo bring me my clothes with strict instructions to drop them before the door and run. No inhaling. He didn't need to die at the Ritz. That would not be oh la la.
Labels: Everyday Life, Trips/Travel
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said:
Only you could find three paragraphs to describe the Rhea in the Ritz
- 2:12 PM
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said:
that is great....
- 2:13 PM
