I used to go past the construction site every day when I was working in FWB, and I ended up dragging Mr. Mouse on the condo tour during Parade of Homes because I was just too curious about the fine Mexican craftsmanship I saw going up across the road. As Benny Fraser used to say "Oh dear!"
The first thing we noticed when we were walking out of the car was the massively out of place Corinthian columns on the entranceway. Mr. Mouse was muchly annoyed that the architects didn't seem to know the purpose of a column- when you've got something else bisecting what's supposed to be a supporting structure, it's like a giant red flag that it's totally fake and all for show.
We go inside, sign up for the tour, and I totally make something up when asked for my vital statistics. (Hey, considering the traffic delays they used to cause on my commute, Emerald Grande owes me about $10 in gas, no questions asked) We jump in with a tour group. Mr. Mouse, me, and the perky interval ownership agent (and dang I was tempted to call it a time share to her face) were the only ones in the group under the age of 60.
We are sternly lectured about how we are not to leave the group under any circumstances. What the consequences are, I'm not quite sure, but I will be tempted to find out. Then we are told that they've spent $1.8 million on art for the complex. And dang did they ever get ripped off. For that kind of money, they should have gone with some Wylands- it would be less cheesy that what they've got there now, scary as it sounds, and unlike the artists they went with, Wyland understands basic drawing and composition.
We are offered the chance to tour the super luxe bathroom. Mr. Mouse and I decline and wait outside the glorious porcelain thrones. They've got some nice pictures of Old Destin in the hallway there, and those pictures were probably the nicest thing about the whole building. We are herded past the members-only restaurant and bar and out onto the pool deck. Time Share Lady informs us that there are something like three aditional bars on the pool deck area. Maybe the building looks better if you're totally sloshed. The pool is finished, and there are small children frolicing within to the merry tunes of Mexican Top 40 being played by the workers rushing to finish the east building.
The view is quite nice from there. I'm not sure if I'd want to hold a wedding on the deck unless they promised to kick all the kids out of the pool during the ceremony. Because wet tulle is just nasty. They're using Norriego Point for beach access. For now, it's a bus shuttle that loops all the way around Holiday Isle, but they've got plans to start running a water shuttle between here and there. The shuttle will have its own bathooms, changing rooms/showers, and yes, another bar. (I'm sensing a theme here)
There is a brief glance at the indoor pool, and the planned exercise area. Time Share Lady admits the only reason they put in the indoor pool was because they needed it to get their resort ratings stars. Maybe they'll do something with it loser to winter, but for now, it really does look like a half-hearted contractual obligation deal. If you've got to have an indoor pool element to water activities, the Majestic Sun's set-up is so much nicer.
Then it's upward to the actual model unit. Once you get away from the public areas, the carpeting goes from being picked to impress to what looks like the same carpet that Mariott uses for the hallways in Courtyard Inns.
As we walk into the '3 bedroom' unit, I find myself wondering why they put bunk beds into a 7'x8' closet. Oops. Turns out that is the alleged third bedroom. (I thought it needed a window to be allowed as a bedroom according to code, but I guess not) One of my fellow sheep asked about customization options for the unit. Time Share Lady says that all kitchen cabinets, carpet, tile, fixtures, are identical in every unit, but if you want to change them later, you can probably get permission to do so. When you're talking $800/sf I would think that at least you'd get to pick out your own darn wall sconces.
We wander through the rest of the unit. Fit, finish, and build quality are all pretty mediocre. The view is still nice. I overhear that condo fees are going to run between $700-$1200 per month.
After what seems like forever, we are finally allowed to leave, and are herded back to the main lobby, where Time Share Lady keeps up the sales pitch in hopes of closing the sale. We break for the parking lot, and just as we clear the doors, Mr. Mouse and I look at each other and have one of those moments of perfect understanding.
"I give it five years before they're dealing with some serious problems, and at minimum repainting the entire thing to try to reduce the ugly."
"And it's a 100% gut job within the first 20 years."
