Unbelievable Charleston Getaway: Holiday Inn Express North Charleston!
My Rambling, Mostly Positive, But Definitely Honest, Review of [Hotel Name Redacted, But You Know the Drill]
Okay, buckle up, buttercups, because I just got back from [Hotel Name Redacted, Let's Just Call it "The Swanky Place"]. And let me tell you, it was… an experience. I’m here to break it down, from the accessible ramps (because, let's be honest, we all need those eventually) to the… well, let's just say the questionable “artistic” flair of the room décor.
First Impressions: Accessibility, or Trying to Blend In
First things first: Accessibility. God, I’m getting older; I care about this stuff now. The Swanky Place had a decent showing. Wheelchair accessible? Yep, ramps everywhere, elevators that (mostly) weren’t packed. Score! And facilities for disabled guests? They claimed to have them. I didn’t personally need them, but good on ‘em for at least pretending to care. The elevator situation was smooth, which is a huge win in my book – beats the usual elevator purgatory.
On-Site Culinary Adventures (and Potential Disasters)
Let’s talk food. This is where things get… complicated. They have like a gazillion restaurants. Restaurants, restaurants, restaurants! A buffet that, honestly, was a bit overwhelming. I'm the kind of person who hovers, gets paralyzed by choice, and ends up eating three bread rolls and a sad little scoop of coleslaw. They had Asian cuisine in a restaurant (tried it, decent), Western cuisine (kinda bland), and a vegetarian restaurant (I’m not, but good to know!). There was a poolside bar, because, duh, and a happy hour that… well, let's just say I made some questionable decisions during that happy hour. They had an a la carte restaurant which seemed a bit fancier but I was too busy making a fool of myself at the bar. The coffee/tea in the restaurant was, surprisingly, good. That's a small victory. The bottle of water in the room was a lifesaver. The other restaurants' salad in restaurant was something else.
COVID-19 Safety Measures: A Masked Ball of Sanitization
Okay, let's be real. I walked in expecting a sanitization frenzy, and that's exactly what I got. Anti-viral cleaning products were clearly having a field day. Daily disinfection in common areas? Check. Staff trained in safety protocol? They looked trained, but I kept seeing one employee using the same cloth to wipe down absolutely everything, which gave me the heebie-jeebies for days. They had hand sanitizer everywhere. So much hand sanitizer. The downside? My skin felt dryer than the Sahara by the end of the week. Physical distancing of at least 1 meter? Yeah, generally. Except for the overenthusiastic waiter who kept leaning in way too close while explaining the specials. Room sanitization opt-out available? Good. I liked the option, but I was paranoid and had them do it anyway. Individually-wrapped food options were a given, which is fine I guess.
Room Rundown: My Sanctuary (and its Flaws)
The room was… something. They call them Non-smoking rooms. My room had a window that opens, which was good (I like air). They had every single thing on the list of Available in all rooms: Air conditioning, Alarm clock, Bathrobes, Bathroom phone, Bathtub, Blackout curtains, Carpeting, Closet, Coffee/tea maker, Complimentary tea, Daily housekeeping, Desk, Extra long bed, Free bottled water, Hair dryer, High floor, In-room safe box, Internet access – LAN, Internet access – wireless, Ironing facilities, Laptop workspace, Linens, Mini bar, Mirror, Non-smoking, On-demand movies, Private bathroom, Reading light, Refrigerator, Satellite/cable channels, Scale, Seating area, Separate shower/bathtub, Shower, Slippers, Smoke detector, Socket near the bed, Sofa, Soundproofing, Telephone, Toiletries, Towels, Umbrella, Visual alarm, Wake-up service, Wi-Fi [free]. They had a Additional toilet, which was a nice touch. The Interconnecting room(s) available could be handy if you're travelling with a big family. I just wanted some quiet. The Room decorations? Let's just say the "modern art" above the bed looked suspiciously like a toddler's finger painting. Seriously.
Spa Life: Bliss or Overpriced?
Okay, the spa. This is where it either goes spectacularly right or… you feel a slight emptiness in your wallet, and maybe a little bit of regret. They had the whole shebang: Body scrub, Body wrap, Foot bath, Massage, Sauna, Spa, Spa/sauna, the works. The pool with view was actually rather gorgeous. I got a massage that was… good? Not life-changing, but relaxing. I’m not sure if it was worth the cost, but… shrug. The steamroom was properly steamy, which is a must!
Beyond the Room: Convenience and Distractions
The Services and conveniences were quite impressive. Air conditioning in public area, Business facilities, Cash withdrawal, Concierge, Contactless check-in/out, Convenience store, Currency exchange, Daily housekeeping, Doorman, Dry cleaning, Elevator, Facilities for disabled guests, Food delivery, Gift/souvenir shop, Invoice provided, Ironing service, Laundry service, Luggage storage, Meeting/banquet facilities, Meetings, Meeting stationery, On-site event hosting, Outdoor venue for special events, Safety deposit boxes, Smoking area, Terrace, Xerox/fax in business center. They had a bar. I think I already covered that. The concierge was helpful. The laundry service made me lazy. The gift/souvenir shop was filled with overpriced trinkets. The facilities for disabled guests… well, they were there.
Things to Do (or Not Do)
Of course, the goal is to relax if you are there. They had a fitness center, a gym/fitness, and a swimming pool, and a swimming pool [outdoor]. I actually did try the gym, and it was surprisingly well-equipped. The Things to do are up to you.
For the Kids (and the Babysitters)
I am not travelling with kids myself, so I'm not the best judge here, but for those who do: The Swanky Place offered a Babysitting service, which is always a plus. Seems Family/child friendly. They have Kids facilities, and also Kids meal.
The Verdict?
Would I go back to The Swanky Place? Probably. The good outweighed the bad. The cleanliness initiatives, accessibility, and decent food offerings were all big wins. The room décor? Well, let’s just say I’ll bring my own art next time. Overall? A solid (but not perfect) experience. Just bring your own hand cream and a sense of humor.
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Okay, buckle up, buttercups, because we're about to dive headfirst into my (hopefully) not-so-disastrous Charleston adventure, all starting from the hallowed halls of the Holiday Inn Express and Suites North Charleston by IHG. Buckle up, because frankly, even I don't know how this is going to go.
Day 1: Arrival. And Existential Dread.
- 3:00 PM: Arrive at Charleston International Airport (CHS). Okay, so far so good. Except…why does baggage claim ALWAYS feel like the beginning of a post-apocalyptic movie? The carousel is a beast, and everyone's just staring, hoping their worldly possessions haven't been sent to Boise. Mine miraculously appear after about 20 minutes. Score!
- 3:45 PM: Cab ride to the Holiday Inn Express. Uh… the driver had a LOT of opinions on the best BBQ in Charleston. I nodded and smiled. I’m terrible at small talk, especially when I'm trying to mentally prepare for… everything that comes with a trip.
- 4:30 PM: Check-in. First impressions: the lobby is… well, it’s a Holiday Inn Express. Clean, functional, the free coffee machine already beckons. But there’s this lingering… blah. You know? Like hotel rooms themselves have an inherent blandness. I ask for a room NOT facing the highway. The front desk guy, bless his soul, says, "Sure, we'll see what we can do." He makes it sound like he's about to reroute the entire hotel. Love him.
- 5:00 PM: Room exploration. Okay, it's not awful. A double bed. A tiny, but functional, bathroom. And… holy crap…a view of the parking lot, with a sliver of highway, which is exactly what I wanted to avoid. My inner critic (who's a real jerk) starts to whisper: "Is this really a vacation? Or just…a slightly more expensive version of your sad apartment?"
- 6:00 PM: Attempt to de-stress. Because. Charleston. I change into my "I'm on vacation, dammit!" outfit (a floral shirt that probably clashes with everything, but I don’t care). I try to take a deep breath, but the air feels…sticky. Welcome to the South!
- 7:00 PM: Dinner at… whatever the Yelp app tells me. Ah, the tyranny of online reviews. I decide on a local place called "Poogan's Porch" and pray it lives up to the hype. (Spoiler: More on that later, and let me tell you, the hype…well, let's just say it was a journey).
- 8:30 PM: Stumble back to the hotel, slightly tipsy on whatever local craft beer I attempted to order. I'm exhausted. Charleston's already exhausting. The air…the food…the constant need to be somewhere. I vow to get a good night's sleep. Famous last words, right?
Day 2: History, Hysteria, and a Whole Lotta Shrimp & Grits.
- 8:00 AM: Wake up groggy and deeply regretting my beer-ordering choices. The free continental breakfast at the hotel is, as predicted, a chaotic symphony of lukewarm eggs and suspiciously orange juice. I grab a banana and a lukewarm cup of coffee, and flee to the lobby.
- 8:45 AM: Attempt to enjoy my coffee and do some trip planning. I'm staring at the map… trying to figure out where to go first and I realized I had lost my glasses. I am going to be that person.
- 9:30 AM: I book a walking tour of the historic district. Hoping to actually gain some proper Charleston history.
- 10:00 AM: The walking tour begins! Our guide is this adorable, grey-haired woman named Margaret, who looks like she's seen a ghost or two – which, considering we're in Charleston, is probably accurate. She starts with a tale of pirates and a very dramatic explanation of a specific house. Turns out, Charleston is obsessed with its buildings. By the end of the tour, I'm completely overwhelmed by brick paths, cobblestone streets, and a constant feeling that I'm being watched by centuries’ worth of ghosts.
- 12:30 PM: Lunch. I'm ravenous after the tour. I attempt to order some shrimp and grits. One bite in and I am in heaven. I could live on this. It's buttery, creamy, the shrimp is perfectly cooked…oh, lord. I am weak. I vow to eat this every day.
- 2:00 PM: The "Rainbow Row" – I’ve got to go see it and post it on all forms of social media. I get the perfect snap of all the houses and feel the urge to buy postcards. Then I decide to take a stroll down by the water, looking at the boats.
- 4:00 PM: Holy Moly. My decision to eat all the shrimp and grits from lunch is now backfiring. I run back to the hotel to let out my food baby in peace. Lesson learned.
- 6:00 PM: Dinner at Poogan’s Porch. I have survived. This is the moment I was dreading and the moment I was hoping for. This is a legendary Charleston establishment. It's apparently haunted by a dog named Poogan. The food is…well, it's good. Solid southern fare. My waitress? She's a total pro. She is an absolute gem. The ambiance is all old-world charm. Did the food live up to the hype? It was good. But I felt… underwhelmed. (Okay, maybe it was the previous day's beer, but still). But I sit back and enjoy the evening anyway.
- 8:00 PM: Back at the hotel, feeling more relaxed, and oddly content. The parking lot view doesn't seem so bad anymore. I feel a sense of calm I haven't felt in years. And start scheming for tomorrow: more food. More history. More… Charleston. This is a love-hate relationship starting to bloom.
Day 3: Plantations, Panic, and the Pursuit of Sweet Tea.
- 9:00 AM: Okay, no lingering in bed! I had planned on visiting a Plantation. I've booked an Uber, and I'm ready to confront my complicated feelings about this aspect of Southern history.
- 10:00 AM: Boone Hall Plantation. The drive is beautiful. The Avenue of Oaks is iconic from the movies. I'm immediately hit with a rush of conflicting emotions. Its beauty, the historical weight…the fact that I'm a tourist, rubbernecking at a place where so much pain happened. I try to focus on listening to the stories, and I walk around slowly.
- 12:00 PM: I head to the gift shop, which is always awkward. I buy a small piece of pottery.
- 1:00 PM: Lunch at a roadside diner. Simple fare, strong sweet tea. I felt like I was starting to get a handle on this Southern thing.
- 2:00 PM: Heading back to the hotel. Feeling the need for a breather.
- 3:00 PM: Nap, because vacation.
- 6:00 PM: Head into the city to hunt down any souvenirs.
- 8:00 PM: Dinner, then back to the safe haven of the hotel.
The Rest of the Week (A Flash of Chaos):
- I might attempt a cooking class. Might.
- More food explorations are absolutely guaranteed. I'm obsessed with the idea of finding the perfect biscuit.
- I'll probably get lost. Repeatedly.
- I'll definitely overpack.
- I'm likely to have a minor meltdown at some point because sometimes, traveling is hard.
- I'm pretty sure I'll also have moments of sheer, unadulterated joy. The kind where you think, "Yeah. This is why I do this."
Departure. And the Aftershocks.
- FINAL DAY: Checkout. One last breakfast from the hotel (sigh). A final glance at the parking lot (actually, it’s not so bad). A quick taxi ride to the airport.
- Airport: The final security line is always a nightmare.
- Homeward Bound: I'm exhausted but I'm already planning my next trip.
Final Thoughts:
Charleston is… complicated. It's beautiful. It's historical. It's delicious. And it's a place that definitely needs time to unpack. I'm not sure if I fell in love. But I felt something. And isn't that the whole point?
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So, uh... what *is* this supposed to be about, anyway?
Honestly? I'm not entirely sure. I think it's whatever pops into my head, a scattered collection of thoughts and feelings, probably some half-baked advice, and a healthy dose of existential dread sprinkled on top. Don’t go expecting crystal-clear answers. I'm more of a "maybe" person than a "definitely" person. It's like one of those IKEA instruction manuals, only it's for, like, *being alive* and I've lost the Allen wrench three times. And the coffee. Always the coffee.
Okay, fair enough. But *why* are we doing this in this fancy format with the... schema-thingy?
Well, the internet overlords (Google, I presume) want the info structured a certain way to 'help' people, even if they think a random rambling is a great answer. I have no idea if *this* specific structure will actually help *anyone*, but hey, conformity, right? Besides, maybe it'll give me a shred of legitimacy. Like, "Look, I *tried*! I used the *correct* terminology! Now, someone please give me a cookie." And it's a great place to put all the answers for your questions and all of my other questions.
So, you're saying you're not exactly an expert?
Expert? Honey, if I were an expert, I'd be on a beach somewhere sipping a piña colada, not wrestling with HTML and questioning the meaning of a question. Nope. I'm just a person, like you, who's tripping through this life, occasionally faceplanting, and trying to figure out how to get the stain of life's chaos off my metaphorical trousers. And sometimes, I *like* faceplanting. It's good for a reset. It's how you learn gravity exists. Plus, the views tend to be good if you get up right. Just a little dirt to brush off.
Alright, fine. So, what *kind* of topics are we talking about here? Is there a theme?
Oh, there's a theme. It's called "life is weird and also wonderful and sometimes you just want to scream into a pillow." Topics? They'll be all over the place, like a toddler with a box of glitter. We’ll probably cover Big Life Stuff (you know, love, loss, existential crises… the usual suspects), Small Annoying Stuff (why are socks always missing?! Why do grocery store layouts make ZERO SENSE?), and maybe even some random musings on the best kind of ice cream (it’s always chocolate, fight me). Seriously, if you asked me on Tuesday about what will I be talking about on Wednesday I'd have more questions than answers.. but you'll find out.
What about opinions? Are you going to hold back?
HAHAHAHA! Hold back? My dear friend, I once got into a *heated* debate with a bag of microwave popcorn about the proper length of a bag's cooking time. I *love* opinions. They're like free entertainment. So nah, not holding back. I will give you my opinions, even if they make you shake your head and mutter "This person is certifiable." Consider it my gift to you: unfiltered, occasionally irrational, always passionate me. And If you don’t like my opinions, well, you can go form your own. And frankly, I expect you to. Because, you know… opinions are important. Even bad ones.
What if I disagree with you? Or find something offensive?
Disagreement is welcome! Debate is encouraged. Consider it a conversation starter, because I *love* talking. As for offense... I'm going to try my best not to be deliberately malicious but let's be real, I'm human. Sometimes my brain-to-mouth filter malfunctions. If something genuinely offends you, let me know. Maybe I’ll apologize. Maybe I’ll double down (kidding!). I'm always learning. But if you're just *looking* to be offended, well, maybe go find something else to read or watch. I'm not here to cater to trolls, although I do enjoy a solid pun.
Are you going to be answering *my* questions?
Maybe! Send them in. My brain's always looking for new things to chew on, I promise to answer some of them if they make sense. I can only promise that I’ll try. I might get sidetracked rambling about the existential angst of a sock puppet. But yeah, I'll try, just send me a message and there's a chance I'll respond. It'll be something of a crap-shoot, but let's be honest, isn't life a crap shoot?
Okay, so I can ask, what's your biggest imperfection... so far?
Oh, man. Where do I even *start*? I am a master of procrastination. I have a bad habit of biting my nails, although I'm trying to stop. Then there's the tendency to overthink *everything*. I could probably write a PhD thesis on the optimal way to make toast. I burn things more than I'd like to admit. And don't even get me started on my tendency to get overly emotionally invested in fictional characters (I'm still not over the ending of that one show...it was tragic, people, *tragic*). Also, I’m *terrible* at following through on, like, 90% of my resolutions. But hey, at least I'm self-aware, right? That counts for something... right?
Speaking of burn things, what's the worst cooking experience you ever had?
Oh, lord. You want the *worst*? Okay, fine. It was a few years ago. Thanksgiving. My family's all coming. I, in my moment of hubris, decided I was going to make the entire feast, *single-handedly*. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, the works. I thought "How hard could it be?" Famous last words, right? The turkey... the *turkey*, people. I had followed the recipe, I swear. And when I pulled it out of the oven.... It was a charred, blackened, almost-anthropomorphic monument to my failure. It looked like a bird from a cartoon after it was struck by lightning. The smoke alarm went off.Serene Getaways
