Upon arrival to
One substantial local gentleman manned the desk and the accompanying transportation engineer (shuttle driver) flanked the side of the desk.
The driver was hungry for luggage to comandeer and he reached eagerly for the handle of my sporty (and very eye-catching) orange Samsonite wheely-bag.
In one swift, deft motion, he affixed to it a tag with my name and “The Lodge at Koele” on it.
He pointed to the shuttle bus waiting outside the window and told us we could wait here or on the bus.
Having no interest in dallying with the others, we proceeded out to our trusty steed.
A scruffy-looking fellow wearing a tee shirt which proclaimed “WEATHERBUG” in large text was the first to join us, followed by a chatty family of three… Papa Bear, Mama Bear and little Junior, complete with a youthful baseball cap to top his closely-shorn head.
All of these folks had oodles of luggage, which the eager transportation engineer had stowed in the compartment to the rear of the seating area.
As he climbed aboard, he glanced quickly at Tim and myself and stated, “…and that’s all you had…” in a heavily accented voice.
Still trying to decipher his hasty address, we nodded and said, “Yes.”
Then I said to Tim, “Does he have my orange bag back there?”
Tim said, “I’m sure he does…”
I nodded, “Yes, you’re right… we were the first ones at the desk and he grabbed the bag directly from me and slapped that tag on it… of course, he has it…”
On the ride to the hotel, the driver prattled on and on and on about
Turned out the three bears were returning after a 10-year absence to show little Junior the lay of the land… he was but a twinkle in Papa Bear’s eye during their last visit and apparently his time to see Lanai had come.
Weatherbug was just on-island for the day and was scheduled on the last flight out at 6p. The driver warned him of the hours of the rental car place so he could avoid being stranded unintentionally.
We arrived at the Lodge and descended the bus steps, only to be halted by the driver.
“Wait, wait! You need your leis!”
Well, he was right about that.
Where were our leis?
The driver had called them from the rental car place and said he would be there in five minutes.
I suppose they didn’t take him seriously.
Perhaps he was notorious for telling tall tales.
Perhaps he was not.
(After all, from what I understand, if you do something wrong on that island, the word really gets around.)
Momentarily, someone appeared and draped the fresh flower leis on us with a smile.
We proceeded toward the mouth of the Lodge.
Where were our warm moist towels with which to freshen ourselves after our arduous journey?
Customarily, those are to come close on the heels of the leis.
We felt rather like unexpected company that had injected ourselves without warning.
Hmm.
Fiona greeted us warmly, handed us each a glass of fresh pineapple cider and promptly seated us for the check-in process.
Martin, the assistant director of rooms who prefers to keep a very low profile, came quietly forward with our towels.
Why does this man always pose as an underling instead of assuming his lofty post with pride?
How about, “Ms. McDonald, Mr. Loyd, so good to see you again… if I can be of any assistance while you’re here, please don’t hesitate to let me know…”
Fiona rejoined us and completed our check-in process.
Our room was not yet ready and she told us she would ring my cell phone when it was cleared for occupation.
We headed out onto the front verandah to check our other bags until we received the call.
Fiona intercepted us and said she had just gotten final approval to send us to our room.
We told her we had another bag, an orange one, we hadn’t seen since the airport.
She called out to the driver, who was still nearby.
He looked momentarily confused and then said that the bag was already in the room.
We recounted our tale from the airport and said we weren’t sure the bag had come with us or not.
Sure enough, we reached an empty room… there was no bag in sight.
Fiona said they would locate the bag and call us directly to let us know it had been found.
After she left us, we inspected the room, and it was, indeed, to our liking.
Ten minutes passed, then fifteen…
How long do you wait?
Surely she had called the driver and the desk at the airport and one of them had said, “Yes, I have it right here… a BRIGHT orange suitcase… can’t miss it!”
We were hungry for lunch and tired of waiting for a call.
Timmer called the front desk and Martin answered.
Apparently, he was unaware of the situation, and so Timmer had to recount it in its’ entirety.
Little Martin, again, said he would find the bag and keep us in the loop.
We tried to call the Clubhouse… best salad EVER… “The Experience Salad”… I could tell you what’s in it, but why don’t we just let it be a surprise… just order it, that’s all you need to know!
Turns out the Clubhouse is closed when the golf course is… which is on Monday and Tuesday… it was Tuesday.
Grrrr!
Another disappointment.
We were directed over to The Terrace. One side of the restaurant was filling quickly; the other side was empty.
I asked the hostess if we could sit on the empty side.
She feigned a command of the English language and said something about a large party which was expected and that the noise they generated might bother us.
So we got stuck in the cattle car instead.
Should I just label each new disappointment with a big ol’ “D”?
Yes, why don’t I?
D!
Nothing on the menu appealed to me. To help soften the blow, I ordered a Lava Flow. That was good, anyway.
Timmer ordered a beer.
Finally, I decided on a small Caesar salad and onion soup. I reflected on the onion soup we had ordered through room service on a prior stay, and it was divine.
Timmer ordered a pastrami sandwich.
After a lengthy wait, the food arrived. My salad was small and the lettuce was yellow.
D!
The onion soup was just kinda glucktious.
D!
I think maybe I enjoyed it more the first time because it was night, it was cold outside and it was a cozy thing to eat from room service.
Timmer said his sandwich was all dried out and tasted like last week’s meat.
D!
A horrible privileged family sat next to us. They seemed like the loud abrasive party that the hostess had warned us about. Only she had seated them next to us, instead of buffering us from them as she had promised.
First, the mother came and sat at one end of the table.
The waitress asked where the husband and kids were. She answered that they were finishing up a game of pool and they would be along shortly.
As she placed an order for the whole family for lunch, she alerted the waitress to the fact that one of the offspring had a peanut allergy.
Why was it when I was a child, it didn’t seem like anyone had nut allergies and now all of a sudden, every other kid has them? Even on the Young and the Restless, little Summer Newman has one… hell, a whole storyline revolved around the child and her nut allergy!
Anyway, the mother sat there with a contented little smile on her face while texting on her Sidekick.
The waitress brought out the glasses of iced tea and milk and they sat there and warmed while the woman waited for her brood.
She sat there by herself for roughly 20 minutes before the rest of her entourage appeared.
Finally, the husband lumbered in, followed by a lumpy younger woman (who we suspect was a nanny) and two small offspring (probably around 6 and 9 years of age).
The children whined and squirmed in their seats, making it easy for us to accept the check when it arrived at our table.
We were stunned to see that our extraordinarily mediocre meal carried the lofty price tag of $83.
This did include two beers and a Lava Flow, mind you… but STILL!
We paid what it cost and went back to the room to change and head out to the pool area.
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