The best most romantical places in OC, Part 2..

Part two of Certifiably Random’s three most romantical places in OC is an escalation in romanticalness and relationships. This isn’t for the faint of heart in amorous like endeavors, for it entails a much deeper level of co- commit- you know, the big “C” and or interest in being alone with your significant other. Hopefully the latter still applies years down the line after your fiftieth plus anniversary.

My wife and I have always loved getting away for a night or weekend to simply enjoy each other’s company. And to that end, we’ve experienced a vast array of crash pads in varying degrees of quality and status: everything from 2 stars to the highest of accommodations is our fair County and I’d have to say, well, never go below 2 and a half stars although I’d also add it seems pointless to me to go over three. The higher end locations seem not to deliver to the average joe. I’m not saying I am so without class that their amenities are lost on me. I’m saying that their actual room amenities are bare minimal, they spend most of their luxuries on the activities in the hotel itself, whilest your room is left lacking. The beds are always nice and that is a definite plus, but the rooms while a splendid display of decor, have little else to offer. For some, this is ideal, but for my wife and I, we enjoy the details, and we don’t often like to leave our room. *smiles wryly*

That being said, one of the Hotels I’ve always enjoyed is the Holiday Inn Express, seems like a cheap option, and price wise it is, but their suites are extremely nice with all the amenities that make for an amazing stay. Plus, they have more than your continental breakfast fare each morning. We stayed in one of these hotels during our trip to Idaho, in fact the 2.5 star location was the highest rated hotel in the Idaho Falls area, making the choice a little easier on my part, especially with the reasonable rates.

Although, this is about the best most romantical places in OC, otherwise I would be going on about the Downtown Doubletree (a 3 star option) in San Diego or the mecca of all hotels, the Hotel Del Coronado. The latter is the exception to the rule in lavish stays, it’s a costly place but well worth the money. And yet, other than our San Diego oasis, my favorite OC hotel isn’t in Newport Beach or near Disneyland, they sport some fine stop offs for a weekend caper, but no, for me the best most romantical place in OC for lodging purposes is the Ayres Suites at Yorba Linda. It’s a smaller four story Hotel and best described by their website:

Ayres’ first rate, friendly service meets the elegance of a European-style boutique hotel. Ayres Suites at Yorba Linda is everything you could ask for in a home away from home. Enter the French Provencal hotel lobby, the perfect drawing room for guests to meet. The carefully selected antiques, imported art and fresco painted walls exude refinement and good taste. Relax in our plush, floral upholstered furniture. Feel the warmth of our large marble fireplace. And the hospitality of our daily complimentary breakfast.

My wife and I enjoy this place so much that we opted to spend our wedding night there. The rooms, decorated in the style of a European bed and breakfast are spacious and emaculate with extremely comfortable beds. The service is unrivaled and they too have your more than normal continental fare in the morning: a breakfast buffet that is plentiful and yummy. In addition they always put out wine, cheese and delicious cookies in the evening and in room there is everything you might need for a comfortable stay: including those small things you never see in the nicer accommodations of 4 star hotels, like a refrigerator or a microwave. I suppose the rich may find these things trivial, but I love having those type of niceties in my room. And I would be amiss to mention our favorite amenity, the Jetted bathtub.

So, Certifiably Random’s not-so humble recommendation for romanticalness is to actually get away and spend your time together in blissful comfort at the Ayres Suites in Yorba Linda.

Digg it.

That is all.

Why Idaho Falls?

Why not. Aly and I live in the hustle and bustle of SoCal and what better place to get away than the little (OK, not so little) town of Idaho Falls. Honestly, I never considered a vacation of such ease until Aly’s good friend, Katie, alerted us to an airline’s deal of the century, tickets from Vegas to a Northwestern Utopia for thirty dollars. And on spur of moment everything clicked: the high life and the slow life all rolled into one pretty package. Dontcha ‘love it when a plan comes together.’ Looking back, it was truly worth every cent, even if we spent those cents saved on Holiday Inn Express’s (you Grammar Nazis may think that was a faux pas, but really it’s just preference) complimentary A-1 breakfast buffet.

I’ve never seen Aly so relaxed. Not to mention, she got to see her beloved cows and visit her good friend (both unique occurrences). Whilst I, master of the wilderness, fed six baby bears. That’s right, no comment necessary. I cannot hear you over the sound of my awesomeness anyways. Now, I know what you’re going to say: “POINH” (pics or it never happen, the rest of you, try to keep up), though I’ll do you one better..

Overall, the trip went without a hitch, all save the mysteriously dead battery when we got to McCarran Airport’s long term parking lot. Really, dead, sigh. Twenty-two hundred hours, a four to five hour drive home and a dead battery holding us hostage. I was about to call Verizon’s roadside assistance for reinforcements, much more useful than AAA and yet still a pain in the butt, when my wife, goddess extraordinaire and exceptionally observant woman that she is, told me she noticed a sign on the way up saying the airport provides battery jumps. Sweet. I went over where I saw an emergency box and pressed the button, hoping this official looking contraption didn’t connect me to Reno 911, and got airport dispatch. Whew. They told me I was third in line, apparently, this happens A LOT.

Consequently, we were forced to postpone our trek home and killed twenty minutes with our three irascible young cubs in the Las Vegas cold. The cold seems to be Davin’s main form of kryptonite in his superman-like zen armor. How is this kid mine? He hates the cold, though I suppose if I was that small and had zero body fat, I would too. I do recall wearing my snow jacket when it was 90 degrees out and feeling no pain when I was a young pup, maybe it’s a kid thing. Woot, I guess he’s my kid after all. And just as I got my cranky bimbo (that’s baby boy in Italian) all snuggled in with a pacifier, airport personnel came to give our car some love. Quite the service, they do flat tires as well. In a jiff, our dark angel of mercy finished her work and we were on our way home. Home sweet home.

And yet, ‘I’m [still] on vacation.’ I took one more day off, @home, with the fam to sleep off our Norman Rockwell hangover. So here I am, slumbering to midday in never never land, trying to stave off the harsh light of early mornings, driving to work in the endless traffic of the 55 fwy and all the rest of the hustle and bustle of SoCal.

All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible. -Thomas E. Lawrence

That is all.