Monday, December 22, 2008

Chateau Elan - The Most Overrated Place Ever* (an illustrated guide) it is. What you've all been waiting for.



There's just so much.

First, I would like to provide an illustrated guide to why Chateau Elan is the most overrated place ever. We begin at The Spa.

Exhibit A - The Pool:

The Pool is approximately twenty feet long and is scented delicately of mildew. The doors you see lead to a lovely patio outside that overlooks a bunch of dead grass and a "fountain" that sprays a single jet of water into the air.

To maintain the utmost security for their patrons, the spa's patio doors are also locked from the inside. Although this may seem terribly inconvenient at first, while completely locked out of the building after unsuspectingly venturing outside, guests have ample opportunity to explore the grounds in the rain and cold as they search for a door, any door, or an unlocked window, or even a relatively spacious chimney to slide down before they freeze to death or are eaten by wild animals or are kidnapped and murdered by the many native tribes of white men in plaid pants who inhabit the adjacent golf courses.

Exhibit B: a placard on the wall at the whirlpool or jacuzzi or hot tub of whateverthefuck they're called now.

The hot tub boasts "Soft, Silky Smooth Water," brought to you by ChlorKing, and promises not to cause you any health problems. Um, cool.

At tea time, all those at the spa are free to help themselves to a delightful assortment of snacks.

Unfortunately, they came in only two flavors - Refrigerator and Freezer Burn.

I did learn something interesting at the spa. I learned that spending a day at a spa is basically going from one hot place to another all day. You can be in the dry sauna, the steam sauna, the whirlpool bathtub (which I thought was GROSS), or the hot tub. So basically you just sit in one place til you get too hot and then go to a different kind of hot place. It's also really fucking boring, and coming from someone like me who really loves to just sit and do nothing, that's saying something. At the end of the day I felt swollen up and bloated like a Vienna Sausage, and not at all relaxed. After I showered, I ran outside for some fresh air so I wouldn't have a fucking heart attack.

When I returned to the shower area, I discovered that the spa has thoughtfully provided hair dryers, etc, for the convenience of their patrons. For example, if you've forgotten your hairbrush or comb, you can help yourself to one of theirs:

Or not. (BTW, I realize that's probably some fungicide or something, but it's fucking GROSS, and I don't want it anywhere near my head. And does that ooze in the jar remind anyone else of the goo under New York in the Ghostbusters movie?)

Should you choose to have lunch at the spa, they have made it most convenient. Rather than having to clean up and get dressed, you may eat your lunch in your spa robe and slippers. At first this sounded like a great idea to me because although I tend to overdress and get fancy, I actually prefer to go most places and do most things wearing flip-flops and stretchy pants if I can get away with it. I envisioned a cozy room with couches and a coffee table laden with plates of snacky foods where you could lounge and munch at your leisure. Instead, you eat here:

That's right. You sit at a fancy-ass table in a fancy-ass dining room and are served by a guy in a suit while you wear a fucking bathrobe. I have never been so uncomfortable in my life. Never mind the fact that I am sort of prissy and would never go anywhere nice without my hair and makeup did. Oh, and I'd ordinarily wear panties to a restaurant as well (unless it's our anniversary or Ryan's birthday or something). Plus, the spa robs are like a one-size-fits-all deal, so my robe could have easily accommodated four or five of me. What this meant was that basically I had to constantly police my boobies because the stupid gigantic robe kept drooping open and providing everyone with a free but disappointing show.

Also, there was a dude eating with his legs spread!! (He was wearing booty shorts under his robe, but still.) And another dude had his robe open, showing his bare chest to the world.

Gag. Check, please!

Oh, and the cost of a eating a turkey sandwich and a cup of chili whilst guarding my breasts in the company of greasy naked strangers? A mere twenty-five dollars. Can't wait to do it again.

And finally, the anorexic Christmas tree:

'Nuff said.

As the wedding was to be held in the Cask Room, we headed there next for the rehearsal. It was kind of cool.

There were some barrels:

and some bottles:

and a knight:

and a door leading to something called the:

I really wanted to open it, but thus far I had managed to convince everyone I was an adult, so I refrained.

There were also some cool murals painted on the outside of the building, underneath a weird carport, where basically nobody would ever see them, except for me and MOH who were late for the rehearsal and got lead through some supersecret catacombs by a helpful (and rather tasty looking) bartender (sadly, not pictured).

Now we'll move to the Clubhouse Grille for the rehearsal dinner, located at the Chateau Elan Golf Villas, where somehow


plus one

equals $14.

If you live in ATL, you're probably surprised. If you live in ATH, you probably just fell out of your chair.

Suffice it to say, I did not get drunk that night, which basically made the whole affair a wash.

Now let's talk about the room.

'Zilla, MOH, and I stayed in the "Bridal Suite" the night before the wedding.

There is a huuuuuuuge bed for Sexy Time:

And a couch (in the corner of the photo) for 'Zilla Gets Pissed and Kicks Groom out of the Bed Time.

And a desk, for Boss & Secretary Roleplaying Sexy Time:

And a humungous TV for Porny Time?

Not pictured are the tiny sink and mirror that are useful for neither On the Counter Looking at Yourselves Sexy Time nor Three Girls Get Pretty for the Wedding and do Their Makeup & Hair Time.

When I commented to 'Zilla that the bathroom area wasn't terribly conducive to wedding preparation, she informed me that Chateau Elan doesn't actually have bridal suites. They have ten presidential suites, and normally couples use those. This one was a presidential suite, meaning only that it has a fucking ton of unused square footage.

I have to wonder why the hell a resort that hosts gazillions of weddings doesn't have bridal suites, or at least suites with a little more mirrors and counter space, but whatevs. We made do.

For $225 per night, we made do.

Okay, sooo.......I know I am being a little mean, and this is not actually what you've been waiting for, but I have to get the rest of the photos from MOH before I can do this fucking farce justice. Have patience. I expect to be finished by tomorrow night at the latest.

Stay tuned!


* Apologies to Daniela and my mom, who both love Chateau Elan. I just wasn't feeling it, but it may not have been the resort's fault ;)


Risa said...

I peed twice laughing. Sorry for your shitty experience but I loved every minute of it. Risa

Marc said...

Okay, that food looks like shit you could get at the supermarket. If you're gonna charge people just for being in you're presence, you can afford the good shit. Or at least you better be able to.