Wyndham Ocean Ridge - Day 1

Travel Journal - South Carolina

All of us together in South Carolina's Edisto Beach was a dream of my mother's that she never got to put into motion. At her memorial service her cousin and I discussed making that dream a reality and thus the Thanksgiving trip was born. Rusty and family could not make it, and the Boston family had to fork over big bucks to fly, but for the most part the clan worked it out and rendezvoused at Wyndham Ocean Ridge.

4:30 - The resort area was a stark contrast to the run down trailers and homes we passed on our way onto the island. It was rainy and dusk by the time we pulled into the resort, and for the most part it wasn't at all what I expected. I'm from Florida and the beach resort community. This was nothing like that. This was South Carolina small town, weekenders-on-a-recoup-for-Monday, low country. The resort was at the end of the island nested in a southern forest of swampy Spanish oaks with cabin units on stilts. It looked like a campground. 

We parked at the welcome center and I hiked up the first set of, what would be many, stairs. The center was small, but welcoming with a long check-in desk to the right, a sitting area with couches and a coffee center straight ahead, and a concierge desk to the left. There were four ladies behind the concierge desk that greeted me warmly upon entering and directed me to the reservation counter manned by one woman, V. I was third in line and watched as V checked in the first two owners. Never once did she look up at them. She spoke in a monotone voice and said the same spiel both times. She never wavered from this script when it was my turn.

Her: "Name?"

Me: (Giving it and spelling it) "I also have two other units under guests. One of those is in the same type of unit that I am in and I was hoping that we could be close to one another."

Her: "I need a credit card and a driver's license."

Me: (Giving those to her) "I requested we be near each other, but just wanted to check in again on that. She is right behind me."

Her: "We will be charging your credit card $100 for incidentals, but if you don't use it then there will be a zero balance upon check-in."

She never acknowledge anything I said until my cousin, Maya, came inside and we began discussing it aloud. At that point V told me we were together. I received key cards to my unit, but Maya did not because of an issue. We went over to the concierge's desk. Sonya was the total opposite of the registration girl. Sonya welcomed us, ask us if this was our first visit, showed us a map of the area and gave us ideas of things to do. She even gave us a weather update, telling us which days we would not have rain. She signed me up for my "seminar", Wyndham's new way of meeting with salespeople. (It is a huge improvement) When she found out Maya couldn't get into her unit she took her back to the registration desk and handled that. We left.

Our two units were within walking distance of the registration building. We drove over and discovered that our units were not together. Maya and family were in 310 and we were in 304. Six units were between us.

This was taken the last day so the sun was out. This was unit 308

Okay. I could live with that. We went into our unit. The first floor was a foyer with a laundry room to the left. Up the stairs was the main level. Straight up the stairs was the dining area. 

To the right was the kitchen with a bar that overlooked the living area. 

More stairs. That led to the third level where there was a spa room with a big jet tub and a bedroom with an attached bathroom. 

To the left of that room were more stairs. Those stairs went to another bedroom/bathroom combination. And guess what else? More Stairs!! 

The fifth level was a loft with another sleeping quarters. Needless to say we got a lot of exercise.

The unit was freezing. It was in the 60's outside, cold and raining. One would think that the staff would turn on the heat to warm up units to welcome the guests. When I stay in Presidential units they have low lighting on and music playing, not to mention robes on the bed. This unit, a two bedroom plus that slept 8 people, was a frigid 57 degrees. Nothing about the bedrooms was what I expected as the floor plan on the website showed two beds in the loft and second bedroom. It took us a good ten minutes to find the thermostat on the third set of stairs on level four. We turned the heat on, but nothing happened.

Tom went downstairs and began checking out the kitchen where we would be cooking Thanksgiving dinner. The stove's burners were all crooked so that when he placed a pan on them the pan was lopsided. He checked the burners and discovered that the main burner was not working. Because he spent ten years getting his electrical engineering degree, he began investigating this and discovered that sparks were jumping around inside. At my insistence he called the front desk. I sat down and wrapped myself in my Steelers blanket that I had brought with me.

Darcy came down the stairs and held up an object. It turned out to be the door handle on the sliding glass doors on the fourth floor. It was completely broken off and had been tossed casually outside on to the floor of the balcony so that no one could open the sliding glass doors from the inside (although Darcy did) let alone lock it. That was the final straw for me. I sent Darcy to the front desk with the door handle. I went over to check out Maya's unit.

Her unit was a replica of mine only warmer. In the middle of her kitchen floor a chunk of the tile was missing. That was it for me. I am a Wyndham Presidential owner and my mother spent a considerable amount of money on making that possible. I have had issues in the past, but this was beyond acceptable. I headed over on foot to the registration building.

The building was empty of people. I went to the concierge's desk and Sonya. I told her that my unit was unacceptable. V, who never heard me previously, suddenly was Miss Eagle Ears and piped up to tell me he was on his way. I thanked her and headed back out into the night. The maintenance man was with Tom in the kitchen. He had flipped a switch in the maintenance garage attached to the outside of the unit to fix the heat problem. He was stumped on the stove and the door handle. He told us he would have to leave, but that he would return. I mentioned that perhaps we could move into another unit so that he could work on these problems. I wanted to move before we unpacked and they ended up moving us anyway. He told me that was not his forte and left.

I huddled under my blanket and warmed myself with my anger. At this point in came my other cousins who would be occupying the third unit, a two bedroom deluxe that slept 6, that I rented which was to be in another section of the resort. She had gone to check-in and was given key cards to our unit at 304. I hiked back to registration where V informed me in a not-very-nice-defensive-manner that my cousin Joyce had not told her that she had a unit, but that she was my guest. I didn't argue. I offered to check her in. She told me Joyce would have to do that. I texted Joyce and then sat down on the couch to wait for her. My phone beeped. Tom was texting me to inform me that the maintenance man had just gotten electrocuted by the stove and he had given us a new unit in 308, one away from our other unit. It was now after 6:30 pm. I put my hands into my head.

One of the concierge ladies, Mary, tapped me on the shoulder. She told me that what was happening was unacceptable and she left to get the manager. She introduced us and Manager Caroline took me back into her small office. We discussed everything. Somewhere along in the discussion I lost it. I broke down and started crying, great heaving sobs that I couldn't control. I told her about my mother's dream and how I had wasted over two hours on this nonsense instead of spending it with family. I told her that I was a Presidential owner who spent lots of money each month on maintenance. 

I kept wiping my eyes and nose on my shirt because I didn't have anything else. Poor Caroline was very sweet. She got me kleenex and offered to help me. She informed me that she didn't know why I was given those units as they were to be torn down in January. She thought as a Presidential owner I should have been put elsewhere. She tried to find places where we could move, but the place was booked solid. She offered to refund me points. I thought about it and agreed. She also offered me a bottle of wine, but it was white and we are a red wine family. She offered to send some to my unit the next day. We parted ways with me feeling exhausted.

Everyone was finishing eating when I arrived back. Jay had ordered and picked up BBQ. It was too late to go to the grocery store. Tom and the girls had moved us into the new unit which was missing toilet paper, a living room chair, and the stools to the bar. I drank the wine that my Auntie Marilyn had brought with her and went off with our family to check out Joyce and James' unit.

The resort was pitch black and had minimal signage. We drove around and around looking for unit 405. We found 450, but it took us over a half an hour before finding a 405 in a section that was not the name of the section we were suppose to be in. That is when Joyce discovered they were in 450 and not 405. Tom and the girls giggled all the way back to 450.

Their unit was accessible by climbing a flight of stairs (SURPRISE!). Their unit was everything ours was not. It was what I'm used to when coming to Wyndham. It was an updated modern unit with granite countertops and stainless steel kitchen appliances. They had a master bedroom with a huge bathroom and hot tub. The second bedroom had two beds just like the floor plan. The living room was comfy and the dining table large. We helped them unload and since Joyce had brought lots of hard liquor I made myself a cocktail and we visited.  

Surely tomorrow would be brighter.