Escape to Sunshine: OYO Budget Inn Bartow - Your Florida Oasis!
Escape to Sunshine: OYO Budget Inn Bartow - My Florida Oasis… Maybe? (A Whimsical & Slightly Unhinged Review)
Okay, buckle up Buttercups, because I'm about to spill the tea (complimentary, hopefully) on the OYO Budget Inn in Bartow, Florida. "Escape to Sunshine," they call it. And honestly, after my stay, I'm not quite sure if I escaped to sunshine, or if sunshine escaped from me. Let's dive in, shall we? It's gonna be a bumpy ride, probably.
Accessibility: (Mostly) Accessible, But…
Right off the bat, things are mostly good. They boast about "Facilities for disabled guests" and mention "Elevator" and "Wheelchair accessible." That's a huge plus, folks! Good on ya, OYO Bartow. But here's the thing… it's Florida. And sometimes, "accessible" means "kinda accessible… if you're feeling adventurous." Gotta check the specifics, you know? My friend, let's call her Brenda (she'll kill me if she finds out I'm writing a review), uses a wheelchair, and she was hesitant. We'll get into her adventures later, but honestly, the devil's in the details!
Internet, Glorious Internet! (And Related Rants)
"Free Wi-Fi in all rooms!" the brochure (er, website) screamed. YES! This is vital. I need my internet. It's my lifeline. My therapist. My shopping addiction enabler. And in my room? Surprisingly, it worked. Yay! "Internet access," they said. Also, "Internet [LAN]." Ugh, LAN cables? Who even uses those anymore?! "Internet services," they say. Like, do they have a guy just dedicated to the internet? Now that would be my kinda gig. Wi-Fi in public areas? Sure, I saw it, briefly. The problem… was it reliable? Let's just say, I spent an embarrassing amount of time in the lobby desperately trying to upload a selfie that (ironically) I took about the Wi-Fi struggling. Classic. My emotional reaction to this situation? Mostly just panic and existential dread.
Cleanliness and Safety: Germaphobes, Rejoice (Maybe?)
Alright, hygiene is paramount, especially these days. They're selling themselves on it. "Daily disinfection in common areas," "Individually-wrapped food options," "Rooms sanitized between stays." Okay, OYO, I'm sensing some serious commitment here. "Professional-grade sanitizing services" – sounds serious! I can appreciate a bit of germ warfare. Hand sanitizer everywhere. Good. "Anti-viral cleaning products"? Excellent. I mean, I'm no germophobe, but I'm not not one, either. Now, I can only take their word for it, but I did see someone wiping down the elevator buttons vigorously. That's a good sign, right?
Dining, Drinking, and Snacking: The Food Fight
Okay, let's get to the heart of the matter: the food. The "Breakfast [buffet]" was the highlight. I use the word ‘highlight’ cautiously. We’re talking continental breakfast. Basic. Bread, bagels, some suspicious-looking fruit salad that seemed to predate the dinosaurs (I kid, I kid…mostly). Coffee? Okay, it was coffee. Not the Starbucks kind, mind you. More of the “I need caffeine NOW” kind. But, I wasn't expecting gourmet! "Coffee shop"? Nope. But on the plus side, they offer things like "Breakfast takeaway service." So you can flee the buffet madness and eat in your room.
There's a "Poolside bar" according to the listing. Now, that sounds promising, right? Sadly, I never saw a bartender. Or even a hint of one. It was a ghost bar, alas. The only drink action was from me, pouring a generous amount of wine into my (plastic) coffee cup.
"Restaurants" are listed. I assume that refers to the restaurants nearby that you, the intrepid hotel guest, have to figure out how to get to. The options mentioned are things like "A la carte in restaurant," "Asian cuisine in restaurant," "International cuisine in restaurant," and even a "Vegetarian restaurant.” What I think they mean is… you’re on your own, folks. Sorry.
Things to Do, Ways to Relax (Or, How to Survive the Heat)
"Swimming pool [outdoor]" – YES! Crucial. Florida in the height of summer? You're gonna want a pool. The pool was clean. The pool was refreshing. The pool… was the best part of the whole experience. And, even had a "Pool with view." Let's just say, the view was… Bartow. But hey, it worked!
Now things get really interesting. They list all the "ways to relax" like "Body scrub," "Body wrap," "Foot bath," "Gym/fitness," "Massage," "Sauna," "Spa," "Spa/sauna," "Steamroom." This is where the brochure and reality start to diverge like a rusty train on a track. No Spa. No Sauna. No Steamroom. No Gymnasium either. This is like when you order a pizza and it has EVERYTHING listed on it but when it turns up, it's just that one sad-looking cheese and tomato thing that costs you 20 bucks.
Services and Conveniences: The Little Things (That Matter)
"Air conditioning in public area?" Absolutely. Essential. Otherwise, it is hot enough to fry an egg on your forehead. "Daily housekeeping?" They did a good job. “Laundry service” was available. I took advantage. It's Florida, you sweat. A lot. “Concierge”? I think so. They certainly unlocked my door when my key card decided to fail me on the third try.
For the Kids: Keeping the Little Monsters Entertained
I didn't have any kids with me, but "Family/child friendly" sounds good in theory. “Babysitting service”? That could have come in useful, especially if the ghostly poolside bar had actually materialized.
My Room: The Lived-In Life
The room itself… well, it was a room. "Air conditioning" – Hallelujah! "Alarm clock" – check. "Blackout curtains" – a lifesaver for sleeping in! "Coffee/tea maker" – yay for that crucial morning caffeine fix. "Internet access – wireless" – worked beautifully, as I mentioned. "Refrigerator"? Needed. "Shower"? Yep. "Smoker detector"? Double yep. It was a basic, functional space. Nothing fancy. Clean, which again, felt like a priority in their messaging.
The bed! Oh, the bed. It was… a bed. Not the worst I've slept in, not the best. It did its job. The "extra long bed" was appreciated.
The Brenda Incident (Rambling Time!)
Okay, remember Brenda? My wheelchair-using bestie? Here’s where that "accessible" label gets super murky. The room itself was fine. Plenty of space. But getting around the hotel? Let’s just say, the ramp situation was… "challenging." There was ONE ramp that led to the pool area. And just getting to that ramp involved dodging parked cars, tiny steps and a lot of gravel. Brenda is a trooper, but even she was muttering under her breath. And then there was the elevator, which was slow. Really slow. Like, "contemplating your life choices" slow.
And that brings us to the pool entrance. One of those annoying automatic doors which didn’t always respond to the sensor. Brenda ended up getting stuck outside a few times. The staff were helpful, but it was clear, the hotel was built without her needs in mind. It was a reminder that "accessible" is not always truly accessible.
The Verdict: Worth the Escape?
So, would I recommend the OYO Budget Inn Bartow as your Florida oasis? Honestly? It depends. If you're after a basic, clean, budget-friendly stay with a functional pool – then, yeah, you could do worse. Just temper your expectations. If you're looking for luxury, a spa day, or are relying on true and easy accessibility, then, maybe look elsewhere.
This place definitely has its quirks and its imperfections. But it's honest. It's real. And, hey, at least the AC works. And the pool? Well, the pool was fantastic. Just remember, in Florida, you're gonna need a pool. And maybe a stiff drink. Or two. Bottoms up! And don't forget to bring a sense of humor. You'll need it!
Niagara Falls's ICONIC Wyndham Grand: Unforgettable Views & Luxury Await!
Alright, buckle up, buttercups, 'cause this ain't your grandma's meticulously planned itinerary. This is the real deal, a messy, glorious, and utterly unpredictable dive into… well, Bartow, Florida. Home of the OYO Budget Inn. Shudders. But hey, adventure awaits! Or at least, a slightly unglamorous peek at the American heartland.
Day 1: Arrival and Existential Dread (But Mostly Hunger)
- (Afternoon - 3:00 PM): Touchdown in Orlando! Okay, so Bartow isn't exactly Orlando, but after a flight from [Insert your origin city here – let's say… Seattle?], Orlando is the closest airport. The drive is… well, it's Florida. Think flat, a lot of trees that all look the same, and a palpable sense of "where's the beach?" I rented a car – a beat-up Corolla that probably hates me already. Road trip vibes! Except, uh, the vibe is more "commuting to work in a beige box."
- (4:30 PM): Arrive at the OYO Budget Inn, Bartow. The exterior? Let’s just say, it’s seen some things. And most of those things probably involved a questionable night or two. The lobby smells faintly of sadness and stale coffee. Check-in. The guy behind the counter looks like he’s fought a thousand battles (and probably won some, lost others). He handed me a keycard, which felt more like a prison pass.
- (5:00 PM): The room… the room. Let's call it "Minimalist Chic (of the Budget Variety)." The bedspread might have been the same color as the faded beige carpet. I’m pretty sure I can hear the ghosts of past budget travelers whispering about cheap beer and bad life choices. I briefly considered running screaming back to the Corolla and driving straight to the coast. But hunger… hunger conquers all, even existential dread.
- (6:30 PM): Dinner at a place called “The BBQ Barn.” (Okay, maybe I should have Googled "Best Restaurants in Bartow.") It's… a lot. A LOT of barbecue. A LOT of sauce. My pulled pork sandwich oozed onto my hands, which, honestly, felt strangely liberating. The waitress, bless her cotton socks, had seen it all. "You new in town, hon?" she asked. "You lookin' a little lost." I confessed that I was. She just shrugged. "Happens." This place? It felt like a real, honest bite of Bartow. The kind that might give you heartburn, but you wouldn't trade it for anything.
- (8:00 PM): Back at the OYO. Staring at the TV. Channel surfing between infomercials and, apparently, 24-hour local news coverage of… well, I'm honestly not sure. Maybe a missing poodle? The joys of small-town television. I was in utter isolation right now. I felt more alone than I ever had in my life
Day 2: Cultural Immersion (Mostly in the Form of Gas Station Snacks)
- (8:00 AM): Wake up. The ghosts are still whispering. Coffee from the in-room machine (read: brown-colored water). There's a weird stain on the ceiling that resembles… a squashed alien? I tried not to think about it.
- (9:00 AM): Attempt to find breakfast. This proved to be a challenge. Options were limited. Ended up at a gas station. Hey, at least the coffee wasn't worse than the in-room stuff. Grabbed a stale donut and a suspiciously bright-orange cheese stick. Real culinary heights.
- (10:00 AM): Visited the Polk County History Center. Okay, this was actually kind of… interesting! Learned about the local citrus industry, the phosphate mining boom, and all sorts of weird and wonderful things. Okay, so the exhibits felt a little dated, and the air conditioning could have used a boost, but it really has a strange charm to it.
- (12:00 PM): Lunch. The same BBQ Barn. Because what else are you gonna do? This time, I went for the ribs. They nearly defeated me. Victory was sweet (and sticky).
- (2:00 PM): Driving around. Bartow has a certain… charm. Or maybe it's just the crippling boredom setting in. Every street looks the same but every street has its own story to tell.
- (4:00 PM): Went for a drive down a dirt road that looked cool. Ended up getting myself stuck in a small ditch. Had to call for roadside assistance, which, naturally, took two hours. I sat in the sun looking like a complete idiot. This, my friends, is the reality of Bartow.
- (7:00 PM): Dinner at a small diner, the name escapes me. It was full of locals, who, surprisingly, didn't seem to notice the slightly disheveled, stranded tourist in their midst. A plate of fried chicken and mashed potatoes later, I'm feeling… kinda okay. The food was solid, the company was nothing, and the wait staff gave me the impression of not seeing me.
- (9:00 PM): Back to the OYO. Existential dread returns. Channel surfing. Praying for sleep.
Day 3: Escape and Reflection (Mostly the Former)
- (8:00 AM): Wake up. The ghosts are still whispering… but now, they also sound a bit… judgmental. The alien stain on the ceiling is… staring at me.
- (9:00 AM): Officially declare my mission a success: I've managed to leave! I had a coffee at a different gas station.
- (10:00 AM): Head south. I'm still not exactly sure where I'm going, but it's definitely not Bartow. The OYO Budget Inn can't hold me!
- (1:00 PM): I'm driving. I’m still driving. The landscape is changing. I am happy to go where the winds may take me.
- (2:00 PM): Found a place further south. Finally! I can breathe again.
- (3:00 PM): Check into new hotel. New room. New vibes. I am free!
- (4:00 PM): I'm wandering around. I see the landscape of Bartow. I reflect. Bartow was probably the perfect test.
- (5:00 PM): Dinner. Dinner. I don't know what to eat. But I can eat. I can finally eat again.
- (8:00 PM): In the hotel. I think. I finally reflect a little. Bartow has its charms. And I'm leaving.
Final Thoughts:
Look, Bartow isn’t glamorous. It isn’t particularly exciting. It might even be a little… bleak. But it's real. And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need. It was a reminder to slow down, to appreciate the simple things (like edible barbecue, or a working car), and to embrace the unexpected absurdity of life. Would I go back? Maybe. Probably not. Maybe someday. But for now, I'm just grateful for the escape. Now, where's the beach…?
Escape to Bliss: Luxurious Fern Cottage Awaits in Johnston!
So, what even *is* the point? I mean, of *gestures wildly*... *everything*?
Ugh, right? The big, existential question. Look, if I knew the *definitive* answer, I'd be sipping margaritas on a beach made of gold, not writing a ridiculously long FAQ. My personal take? The point is whatever you make it. For me? It's mostly surviving, finding moments of sheer joy (like that time I ate an entire pizza by myself – *glorious*), and trying not to be a complete jerk. Look, I'm a work in progress, alright?! And honestly, isn't that kinda the *whole* point?
How do you deal with… well, *everything* going wrong?
Oh, honey, where do I even *start*? My life's a masterclass in things going sideways. The dryer eating my favorite socks? Check. Publicly tripping and face-planting in front of my crush? Double-check. The key is… okay, there's no *one* key. Sometimes you just gotta scream into a pillow. Other times, you laugh so hard you cry. The *best* days? You cry *and* laugh. I've learned to embrace the chaos. It's not pretty, but it's honest. And frankly, it's way more interesting than a perfectly curated Instagram feed.
What's the best piece of advice you've ever received?
Okay, this one's kind of a mixed bag. My Grandma Betty, bless her heart, once said, "Don't let the bastards get you down." Now, that's great in *theory*. In practice? Sometimes, the bastards *absolutely* get you down. BUT! She’s right. It’s about refusing to let them win! Find your own version of that, whatever makes you feel empowered. For me, it’s a well-timed curse word and a whole lotta chocolate. And maybe, just *maybe*, a sneaky revenge prank (don't tell anyone!).
What do you do when you feel completely overwhelmed?
Ugh, the overwhelm monster. We know each other *very* well. My go-to strategy is a total system shutdown. First, I usually have a small panic attack because, duh, it's *standard* protocol. Then I retreat. Literally. Either I hide under a blanket fort (yes, I’m in my 30s, I don't judge), crawl to the couch and turn on something brain-numbing, or take a long, hot bath. If I'm feeling *slightly* functional, I make a list. Breaking things down into manageable chunks is the only way that I'm able to push through.
What's the worst mistake you've ever made? (And how did you recover... or are you still recovering?)
Oh, god. Okay, this one’s a doozy. Let's just say it involved a karaoke night, a truly terrible rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody", and the complete ruination of a friendship that I was sure would last forever. I'm still cringing, years later. The recovery? Slow, painful, and filled with awkward apologies. It involved a lot of therapy (highly recommended, BTW), and a whole lotta self-reflection. I'm still not sure if things can ever be *fully* okay, but I’m at least able to laugh at the horrific memories now. The lesson? Karaoke, friends, and cocktails don’t always mix. Sometimes, silence is golden (and less embarrassing).
What brings you real joy?
Okay, this is where I get all mushy and vulnerable. I LOVE this question! Firstly, my dog. He’s a goofy, drooly, snoring menace, but he loves me unconditionally, and that's something I need. Also? A really good book, sunshine on my face, the smell of rain after a dry spell, and seeing someone I love laugh so hard they snort. Those moments, those tiny bursts of pure, uncut happiness? That's what makes it all worth it. If you aren't sure about your answer? That's okay, sometimes it takes a while to figure it out.
What's the most important lesson you’ve learned, and you aren't being cliché?
Alright, I am absolutely *not* going to preach about "following your dreams" or "believing in yourself." Honestly, most of the things people say are total bunk. What I *have* learned the hard way is this: You're going to screw up. You're going to hurt people. You're going to feel lost and confused and utterly hopeless. It's inevitable. The *real* lesson is learning to forgive yourself. And others, too, eventually, but don't beat yourself up if that takes a while. Be okay with the imperfections. Embrace the mess. Because ultimately. It's all part of the beautiful disaster that is being human.
Do you have weird habits?
Define "weird." I *absolutely* talk to my dog. He may not understand, but he *pretends* to listen. I also have a weird thing about symmetrical things. One thing out of place? I'm going to be fixing it. And, I often make up entire stories about the strangers I see on the bus. Don't judge, everyone does it, right?
What's the biggest misconception about you?
People often assume I have my life together. HA! That's the funniest thing I have heard all week. Listen, my messy house is the only thing that I have together. I think It's the oversharing online, or the way I laugh at myself. So, now you know the truth. I'm as likely to be caught in my pyjamas at midday as I am to be caught doing the right thing.
And finally... Are you happy?
That's a tough one. Some days, yes. Absolutely, unequivocally, *yes*. Other days? I'm curled up in a ball, questioning everything. But here's the thing: I'm *mostly* content. I'm here. I'm breathing. I'm learning and growing. And I'm surrounded by people I love (even if they annoy me sometimes). So, yeah... I guess I am. AndHotelicity
