"We need a doctor as soon as possible—one who makes hotel calls." It was late on Christmas day last year, and my family had just arrived at the Ritz-Carlton Orlando, Grande Lakes when I hit the concierge with this request. I was the patient in question, a solo parent with a raging sore throat and a husband off doing research in the remote Peruvian Amazon. Two hours later Dr. Thomas Blehl (specialty: tourists) was in our room with his leather kit, gently administering all the familiar tests before dashing back to his family's festivities. A cheery bellhop, my insurance card in hand, picked up the antibiotics—yes, on Christmas night. Total bill: $165 for the bedside visit, medicine, and speedy delivery. And by the next afternoon, I was feeling well enough to climb Space Mountain. But in truth none of us—not my 9-year-old son, 7-year-old daughter, my mother, or my just-arrived brother, sister-in-law, and 10-year-old nephew—was inclined to budge. We had found our own magic kingdom, and it came with spitting fish fountains, a Greg Norman-designed creekside golf course, inner tubes and a river-style pool (next door at the sister resort, the JW Marriott), and round-the-clock treats included in the price.
Eventually some of us ventured out for morning theme-park forays, but we were always home in time for high tea, followed by a visit to the kids' club foosball table or the steam baths at the spa. It was an ideal, if expensive, family reunion, especially when my husband surprised us with his arrival midweek, direct from an Amazonian logging camp. He was just in time to join us at Discovery Cove, the man-made lagoon, where we snorkeled past barracuda and kissed captive dolphins.
Our group had two nights out—one to see Cirque du Soleil, the other to eat at Jiko, the hip African restaurant at Animal Kingdom Lodge—both designed to dislodge my mother and brother from the resort. But even on New Year's Eve we were all holed up at the hotel, blissfully nibbling crab claws and sampling every pastry in the Ritz club room. It was funny to remember the weeks before the trip, when everyone who heard that we were heading to Orlando had shot me sympathetic looks. The next time I feel sick—or my husband's work sends him away for the month of December—I hope to take the Orlando cure.
—Margot Guralnick
Three counterintuitive, soul-saving tips:
• STAY LONGER, DO LESS Most people check in for an utterly depleting three days. I recommend a week. Get in line at the theme parks in the morning; get to know your hotel pool in the afternoon. • SPLURGE ON A GUIDE At Disney no one skips the lines, but with an official VIP leader (407/560-4033; wdw.vip.tours@disney.com) you leave the crucial strategizing, reserving, and fast-pass punching to someone else. And at SeaWorld (800/406-2244; www.seaworld.com) and Universal (407/363-8295; www.universalorlando.com) the park's guides get you on the rides presto, no waiting. • LIVE OFF-CAMPUS True, being a guest at a Disney or Universal resort means early admission and shuttles to the parks, but it also means no escape: that's the Disney channel playing on the lobby TV's at the Grand Floridian, and no, you're not hearing things—the music's always on at the Hard Rock Hotel, even underwater. Preserve your sanity by staying at one of the many well-priced resorts or condo complexes in greater Orlando (see www.orlandoinfo.com)—or, do as we did, and live it up at the Ritz. Ritz-Carlton Orlando, Grande Lakes, 800/576-5760; www.grandelakes.com; doubles from $309.
