St. Augustine Pt 3

Day Three: From the Ritz to the Pits: A Tale of Two Hotels and One Unfortunate Toilet

October 15, 2026 | Orlando → St. Augustine, Florida

There's an old saying that goes, "What goes up must come down." I'm pretty sure whoever said that had just checked out of the Ritz-Carlton and into a questionable Holiday Inn.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

If you've been following our adventures, you'll remember that we ended Day Two arriving at the beautiful Ritz-Carlton in Orlando, a place my wife has affectionately declared to be her home. Not her favorite hotel. Not her favorite vacation destination. “Her home”. And honestly, after spending the night there, I'm beginning to understand why.

Unfortunately, there is one small issue with Jessica's declaration of residency. Apparently, the Ritz-Carlton expects you to continue paying them if you want to keep living there. Rude.

Day Three started off absolutely perfect. We woke up at the Ritz, made our way down to the pool, stretched out in the beautiful Florida sunshine, and enjoyed every single minute of it. No alarm clock screaming at us after four hours of sleep. No interstate driving. No gas station employees enforcing imaginary traffic laws. No plumbing emergencies. Just sunshine, a beautiful pool, and my beautiful bride relaxing beside me.

It was glorious. I could have stayed there all day. Actually, I could have stayed there all week. Unfortunately, the good people at the Ritz-Carlton have this little policy called “checkout time.” And apparently, "My wife says she lives here" isn't considered a valid reason to extend your reservation indefinitely.

So, with heavy hearts and substantially lighter wallets, we packed our belongings and prepared to leave paradise. Fortunately, Jessica had something that would help ease the pain of our forced eviction.

Barbecue!

Now, back home in Louisiana, we don't have a Sonny's BBQ nearby, and Jessica had been craving it. So when we discovered one just a couple of miles away, it was like the clouds parted and the angels began singing. We found our table, ordered some delicious barbecue and corn nuggets, and prepared to enjoy a wonderful lunch.

And let me tell you, the food was fantastic. Everything was going perfectly. Until I looked over.

Y'all.

I need you to understand that I am not normally someone who pays a whole lot of attention to other people's feet. In fact, I would strongly prefer to go through life paying absolutely no attention to other people's feet. But there was a woman sitting at the table next to us, and somehow, someway, her toes had found themselves directly in my line of sight.

And these were not ordinary toes. These were the kind of toes that make you question whether feet should be allowed in public without proper supervision. I don't know what those toes had been through. I don't know what battles they had fought. But judging by their appearance, they had seen some things.

And the worst part? I COULDN'T STOP SEEING THEM.

Every time I'd raise a forkful of delicious barbecue toward my mouth, there they were. The toes. Haunting my lunch. I'd try to focus on Jessica, the corn nuggets, or the delicious smoky goodness on my plate, but somewhere in my peripheral vision, those toes were still conducting psychological warfare.

Anyway, lunch was delicious. Mostly.

With our stomachs full and my eyes permanently traumatized, we said goodbye to Orlando and headed toward St. Augustine. We had a wedding to attend, family to see, and a few days of festivities ahead of us.

And because we were attending the wedding, we had access to a special room block at a Holiday Inn. Now, on paper, this sounded like a fantastic idea. A convenient hotel, a discounted room rate, and a place to stay while we enjoyed the wedding festivities. What could possibly go wrong?

Oh, sweet Lord let me tell you.

We pulled up to the hotel, and honestly, the first impression wasn't bad. There was a beautiful driveway lined with gorgeous moss covered oak trees. It was picturesque, charming, and giving classic Southern hospitality.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the highlight of the property. The driveway.

Apparently, someone had spent the entire hotel budget on the entrance and then decided the rest of the building could fend for itself.

We walked inside and immediately discovered that the lobby was under construction. There was no one at the front desk, just a handwritten sign informing us, "I'll be back. Just wait." Well, that's comforting. Nothing makes you feel more welcome than arriving at a hotel where the entire hospitality department has apparently stepped out.

And the strangest part was that the place seemed completely empty. No guests, no activity, just construction, a handwritten note, and two travelers who had spent the previous night at the Ritz-Carlton.

Jessica, however, was determined to remain positive. "Babe, we're just here to sleep. It's not a big deal." And not to forecast but im like “Sure. Sure, sure”. That's exactly what people say at the beginning of every horror movie.

Eventually, we made it upstairs and opened the door to our room. And immediately, I knew this was going to be a core memory.

Jessica headed straight to the bathroom while I started unpacking our bags. A few moments later, I heard her laughing. Apparently, the bathroom door wouldn't close properly because the floor was uneven.

Let me say that again. THE FLOOR WAS SO UNEVEN THAT THE BATHROOM DOOR WOULDN'T CLOSE.

Now, I'm no structural engineer, but I'm fairly certain that doors closing is one of the foundational expectations of a hotel room. You know, a bed, a toilet, walls, doors that close. Apparently, I was asking too much.

So there I am unpacking, minding my own business, when suddenly I hear those words every husband fears. "Um, babe..."

I stopped because nothing good ever follows "Um, babe" when your wife is standing in a questionable hotel bathroom.

Then she said it. "Remember KFC?"

Oh. My. Sweet. Lord.

If you read Day Two, you already know exactly what happened at KFC. And if you didn't, let me give you the abbreviated version. The toilet didn't flush, we evacuated, and Blackhawk was not going down.

But this time there was no escape. We were in our own hotel room, and apparently, this was a Pete problem.

I suggested the most logical solution. "Let me get an attendant." You know, someone who works at the hotel. Someone who has probably handled these situations before. Someone who is literally employed to deal with problems involving the property.

Jessica immediately shut that down. "Absolutely not! You're unclogging this. I'm not having a stranger do it."

Now, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present an argument. Why, in the name of all that is holy, would you rather traumatize the man you share a bed with than a complete stranger who gets paid to deal with these situations?

I mean, I love this woman. I love her deeply. But there are some things in marriage that should probably remain a mystery. And considering the current condition of this hotel, I'm fairly certain the maintenance staff has witnessed things that would make a seasoned crime scene investigator resign.

But no. Apparently, today I was the maintenance department.

So I acquired a plunger, and the attendant handed me a bag to put the plunger into, and there I stood, preparing to perform a feat of plumbing wizardry that no husband should ever have to experience on vacation. I waved my imaginary magic wand.

Abracadabra! THE POO HAS POOFED!

Crisis resolved. Marriage intact. One more unforgettable memory added to the Pete & Jess Travel archives.

And just to think, twelve hours earlier I had been relaxing beside a luxury swimming pool. How the mighty have fallen.

Once the plumbing situation had been resolved, we got ready for the wedding rehearsal. Now, I was officiating this wedding, so naturally I wanted to look sharp. I put on my suit and tie, and Jessica slipped into a beautiful dress and looked absolutely stunning. Seriously, the woman could walk into a room wearing a potato sack and still be the most beautiful person there.

We were looking GOOD.

So we headed to the wedding venue, and let me tell you, this place was gorgeous. It was a beautiful barn that had been converted into a wedding venue, complete with all the charm and atmosphere you could hope for. It was going to be the perfect setting for a wedding.

There was just one small problem. Apparently, nobody told us that the rehearsal was casual. We walked in looking like we had just left Sunday morning church service. Everyone else? They looked like they were getting ready for a neighborhood fish fry.

Somewhere along the way, Jessica and I had missed the memo. But at least we looked good doing it.

The rehearsal itself went smoothly, and it was wonderful getting to catch up with family and spend time with everyone. After all the driving, amusement parks, questionable hotel accommodations, and unexpected plumbing responsibilities, it felt good to slow down and enjoy time with people we love.

After the rehearsal, we headed over to Uncle Gary's house. Uncle Gary is Jessica's dad's brother, and he and the family were hosting everyone for dinner.

And y'all. THE FOOD. Oh, sweet mercy, the food.

They had prepared a special family recipe that Uncle Gary's mother used to make. For Jessica, it brought back that wonderful feeling of family traditions, memories, and recipes that get passed down through the generations. For me? Well, let's just say my taste buds were having a spiritual experience.

I'm not entirely sure what the dish was called, but I can tell you this much. It was GOOD. I'm also not entirely sure what happened to my self-control that evening, but I'm confident it was last seen somewhere between my first plate and whatever I went back for next.

I'm pretty sure Jessica was wondering whether she'd married a man or adopted a full-grown Labrador retriever.

But listen, when food is that good, you don't ask questions. You show appreciation. And apparently, my preferred method of showing appreciation is consuming enough food to feed a moderately sized football team.

But as wonderful as the food was, the best part of the evening wasn't what was on our plates. It was the laughter, the conversations, and the stories being swapped. The opportunity to sit around with family, catch up on life, and enjoy each other's company.

Those are the moments that make traveling so special. Yes, we love beautiful hotels and roller coasters, and apparently we've developed a disturbing history with plumbing emergencies. But at the end of the day, it's the people and the memories that make the adventure worthwhile.

Eventually, we said our goodbyes and headed back to our hotel.

Now remember, when we first arrived, this place was practically abandoned. An empty parking lot, a deserted lobby, a handwritten sign, and construction. The kind of place where you'd expect to see a tumbleweed roll across the entrance.

But when we returned that night? The parking lot was completely full.. Completely full. Cars everywhere. And I was genuinely perplexed.

Where did everybody come from? Had there been a sudden shortage of functioning hotels in St. Augustine? Had the Ritz-Carlton accidentally redirected all its reservations? Had word spread about the beautiful driveway?

I had so many questions. But the strangest part was that even with a parking lot full of vehicles, the lobby was still eerily quiet. I didn't see the crowds that apparently belonged to all these cars.

Where were these people? What were they doing? And why did this hotel suddenly look like the hottest destination in St. Augustine?

I didn't have answers. And after the day we'd had, I wasn't about to go looking for them.

So we headed upstairs to our room, where the beds were at least surprisingly comfortable. I'll give the Holiday Inn credit for that. The bathroom might have looked like it needed a tetanus shot, but at least the beds were comfortable.

As I lay there thinking about the day, I couldn't help but laugh. We had started our morning relaxing at one of our favorite luxury resorts in the world, and somehow we'd ended it at a hotel where the doors didn't close, the plumbing needed divine intervention, and mysterious guests apparently materialized after sunset.

What a difference a day makes. But with our Alanis in fridge for the morning we are excited to see what tomorrow has in store for us.

And That Was Day Three!

Sunshine at the Ritz-Carlton, amazing barbecue and unforgettable toes, a beautiful drive into St. Augustine, and a hotel that somehow made the Ritz-Carlton seem even more luxurious. We survived another plumbing emergency, accidentally overdressed for a wedding rehearsal, and spent a wonderful evening laughing and eating with family.

As I climbed into bed that night, I couldn't help but think about how quickly life can change. One morning you're lounging beside a luxury resort pool, and that afternoon you're plunging a toilet in a Holiday Inn.

That's life. That's marriage. And apparently, that's Pete & Jess Travel.

I went to sleep that night with two thoughts. First, I absolutely love traveling with my wife, even when our adventures take us from luxury resorts to questionable plumbing situations.

And second... Where in the world did all those people come from?

Little did I know, the mystery of the Holiday Inn was only beginning.

Until our next adventure,

Pete & Jess ❤️