Postcard from AZ

In just three days our vacation had its significant up's and down's. Rather than recounting the worst parts I'll just later post the 3 page letter I've drafted for Travelocity - and the thank you to Marriott. I can advise you that Marriott is very good, and Travelocity and United are VERY BAD. Once they've got your money in hand they don't care much for your time or enjoyment. BAD, so BAD!

Despite our vacation enjoyment being postponed by 24 hours, and my being awake for that same amount of time on Thursday, our heads finally found pillows by 3 am, albeit in a different hotel than planned, without my luggage.

After our struggles, things turned around dramatically when the Marriott front desk manager pulled out a map of the property, circled our room with his JW Marriott pen and explained, "You're right by the pool, but your room has a private pool. We gave you the Presidential Suite due to your troubles last night, I think you'll like it." I was stunned. When the bellman took us to the room and walked us through you'd think we were a family seeing their new home in Extreme Makeover Home Edition after Ty Pennington has yelled, "Driver, move that bus!"

The private pool worked out well since I was dying to be in the pool but only had a men's t-shirt from the gift shop to swim in. (My luggage arrived by 4 pm the day after we arrived in Arizona.) We also invented new jobs, since we wouldn't qualify for this suite on our own. If asked, we'd tell our fellow guests that Jason was an internet tycoon, and me, an author. (Kind of true, I have this blog and he does have a sports blog and works in the industry!)The room, a 'Sunset Margarita', massages, and a credit for the $100 we ended up spending getting back and forth to their sister Marriott property the first night got me caught up on vacation relaxation. The sun was extradordinary, and the warm temperatures so needed. I hiked up a trail on Mummy Mountain in the morning, we rented bikes in the afternoon. Dinner at the BLT steak restaurant was indulgent, and my tastebuds can still recall the taste of their popovers - warm bread, served with creamy butter and a sprinkle of sea salt.



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