[Author's note 2015-12-28: this photo added in 2015, but the hotel looks the same. This is picture 21 of an excellent series of 64 carefully posed pictures at this link, which can be problematical. The deck chair I fell asleep in is just under the red-colored leaves at picture center. This if from the back of the main hotel, looking north toward the lobby.]>
JZ didn’t make it into Quizno’s before I left at 2:30 (got tired of waiting). I went over to the Biltmore Hotel in Coral Gables for the free tour. Oddly, the tour is primarily a sales gimmick for people already staying at the hotel. That, and because there were no single women in the group, gave the active mind plenty of time for sarcasm. It’s your typical early 1900s place, where they tried to create elegance by copying European traditions of the aristocracy. Here in the US of A, that only attracted the likes of Al Capone. There were gondola rides (whoopie!), and fox hunts, and though you can’t tell by the bathing suites, beauty contests.
The staff was surly to non-guests, so that part was authentic European. There is no coffee shop. They are still injecting the so-called Old World charm into a place that has apparently been bankrupt for decades trying to do just that. The honeymoon suite in $3,000. (“By the hour? What? Well because anyone who gets married the week after Christmas either has to, or . . .”) The regular rate seems to be by the person, not by the room. It’s $125 per person per night. No cap on the number of persons, ahem. If you stay more than two nights, they don’t charge you a “corkage” fee on your wine. (“God bless them, every one.”)
At one time, the place served as a hospital for veterans. They gave up on that and the place was abandoned for ten years. (“You mean even the Army couldn’t keep the doors open!”) It got the largest pool at a hotel by some obscure standard. Minus, of course, the diving boards, you see, jocks did really stupid things back then, too. The pool is surrounded by the conference halls, they are quick to point out that NAFTA meets here. (“Where’s the protestor’s gallery?”)
It’s a slow tour, I had lots of time to wander away and come back. The treat, the tour of the 13th floor was not to be. Somebody actually booked it this year and it was occupied. (I motioned we at least knock, but you know these conservative types.) For the record, there were several weddings going on. I haven’t seen so many fat teenage girls in black dresses since the Godfather premiered in ’72. This French vanilla really makes me tired, I mean, cozy tired, I think I’ll z-z-z-z-z-z-z . . . .
Two hours later. It’s French Vanilla tea, yes, just like the coffee. It’s a blend of black made by Lindsay Gardens. Brew it exactly three minutes. I have to sweeten mine, I think it delicious. It’s for Rhonda, but I’m always allowed to sample. I found it at La Copa, and saw this unusual teacup/teapot arrangement. The cup and saucer are the same, but on top of the cup sits the one-cup teapot with a matching floral pattern, designed so the teapot nests into the cup. I would have got one but the price was (don’t hit me) "too steep".
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