Rittner’s Guide to B&B’s — Online (and Off)!

By Don Rittner

My wife considers us experts when it comes to the bed and breakfast experience. We have stayed at more than a dozen throughout the Northeast. Our experiences, however, can be broken down into two distinct periods: Bed & Breakfast BC (Before Children) and Bed & Breakfast AD (After Delivery).

Here are some general observations:

* Have kids? Stay home! Not one B&B liked kids.

* Never attempt to enter a kitchen at a B&B! Something secretive happens in there. Kitchens were off limits at all of our visits.

* Eat as much as you can first time around.

* Don't ask to use their refrigerator, stove, or microwave.

* If the host says the rooms are air-conditioned, ask specifically for electric air conditioners.

* When you ask for directions and they tell you finding the place is a snap, buy a detailed map of the area.

* Taller than 5 foot 4 inches? Stay at the local Holiday Inn. If your B&B is a historic home with original furnishings the period beds are for dwarfs.

* If the owner tells you the rooms have historic charm, it means they're small.

* Plan on getting away for romance? Forget it. Not only do the beds creak, but so do the floor boards, the chairs, even the paintings on the wall, and they like to put newcomers and newlyweds over the dining room (it must be some kind of B&B joke). Someone could write an orchestral arrangement with the creaks and moans of these old houses.

* I hope you like muffins.

We really do prefer staying at a bed and breakfast instead of hotels, and while most of our experiences were great, let me expand on a few of the more memorable.

One of our trips took place outside of Ithaca, New York, at a 200-year historic home. We had the bedroom of the original owner's wife. The room was wallpapered and very homey, but a bit small. The original bed was uncomfortable (goose down), short, and creaky. If you breathed, it creaked. If you rolled, it creaked. If you whispered, it creaked. All night, the still air was punctured with creaks from beds throughout the house. I didn't get much sleep.

Adjoining the bedroom was a beautiful black and white tiled 19th century bathroom that was twice the size of our bedroom. It had an original shower that projected above the tub with large individual stainless steel pipes, for hot and cold water, running up the side of the tiled wall. The massive shower head was encircled by a ring of stainless steel, and a vinyl shower curtain hung from it. The showerhead looked like the engine from an F-16 fighter jet. When you turned on the water the force of the blast made the shower curtain wrap to your body like a cocoon. It reminded me of one of those RONCO gadgets that suck air to vacuum seal food. Imagine trying to peel the plastic shower curtain off your body, while at the same time trying to stand up from the blast of the F-16 powered shower. A truly memorial experience.

The next morning we enjoyed a nice breakfast of muffins and coddled eggs. When the owner's wife offered more freshly squeezed orange juice, we accepted. After breakfast, my wife passed the kitchen and saw a used cardboard container of orange juice (with the words 'With Pulp' on the label) sitting on top of a garbage bag. Shocked by being tricked, I calmly told my wife that technically it was fresh squeezed, since you could see the sides of the container squashed in.

Our last experience before kids took place in Syracuse. We located a B&B right outside of the city. The owner assured us it would be easy to find and he would leave the light on for us. Have you ever been to Syracuse? The people are very nice but can’t give directions, and the stoplights are five minutes long - each and every one of them. After an hour of trying to get out of the city, we kept passing the B&B. Finally, as we made it to the driveway, the outside lights went out — total blackness. We fumbled our way to the door and were met by a nice man, who we'll call John, who told us he thought we had cancelled. I didn't have the nerve to tell him our lateness was due to his terrible directions.

We unpacked and were ready to go to bed, but John insisted on giving us the history of the house. It looked like it was built yesterday. As it turned out, he wanted us to stay up because he was baking muffins for the morning and wanted someone to talk to. John admitted he wanted to buy the cheap store-bought kind, but his wife made him bake real ones to impress us.

We learned that the house was built by kids from BOCES. We spent several hours on our hands and knees looking at the fine turned struts in the banister, and the neatly tongue and grooved wooden floor. While on our hands and knees, John's wife stepped out from nowhere and the three of us looked up and said, "hello." That's how we were introduced - on the floor and on our knees! She gave us one strange look and disappeared again. It was the only time we saw her. The B&B was John's idea.

After we found our way back to the chairs, John continued the conversation about each and every part of the house. I learned more about BOCES and that house than I ever wanted to know.

Every so often during the discussion John would blurt out "Ooooh, Noodle I love you." in a high shrilled voice. Startled, I looked at my wife each time to see if she reacted to the name Noodle. I knew I never met this guy before and started suspecting that maybe my wife knew him (she booked the place). Then, I realized that tucked in between his arm and chest was a little fur ball - a kitten.

It was 11:30 PM before we made it to bed, actually the muffins were done. It took only seconds to fall asleep, but at 7AM sharp there was a knock on the door. "Good morning folks, I brought you fresh coffee," John yelled through the door. "Leave it on the floor, please," I shouted back half awake. Later, we woke up, got dressed, and started to walk to the bathroom. Yup, I walked right onto the cups of coffee on the floor - still hot. My selection of cusswords never made it to the surface as we found our way to the bathroom. Five minutes later, while in the shower, a knock on the door. "I've brought you more coffee, Mr. Rittner." This time, I opened the door, and grabbed the cup.

Finally it was time for breakfast. The 'real' baked muffins were tasty and John prepared a nice melody of fruit for us. While we were eating, he stood there with pot of coffee in hand and stared at us while we ate. He stared at every bite adding commentary during our chewing. After two sips of coffee, he refilled the cup. Another two sips, another refill. Every time I ate a little green thing, he blurted out, "Those are kiwi, they're expensive." Before we could grab seconds, John whisked the bowl away, muttering under his breath, "hmm, this will be good for lunch." We left early.

Our next B&B visit took place while my wife was pregnant. Son number one, Chris, was two years old. We decided to go to Kennebunkport, Maine, hoping to drop in on President and Barbara Bush for tea (ok, not really, but we did get to see their house). My wife called this charming sounding B&B and booked a room. When we arrived, the owner looked down and said sternly, "You have a child. You didn't tell us you had a child." Yes she said, and another on the way, pointing to the obvious. "We don't allow children," he barked. I mentioned that we just drove hundreds of miles from Albany and expected a room. The brochure never said kids were banned. Figuring I had him on a technicality, he suggested we could use a cabin near the stables in the back of the inn. I swore he said manger. I looked at Mary--I mean Nancy--and asked her if that was ok with her. She looked at me with a grin and said, "Sure Joseph, we can manage."

The manger, ah, cabin, wasn't bad, but when we entered the main building for breakfast, everyone looked at us like we were lepers. No one took their eyes off Chris. When Nancy asked to warm some milk for his cereal, the owner told us guests were not allowed to use any equipment, nor could we store anything in the refrigerator. So, Nancy went into the kitchen and nuked the milk. Shocked, but not missing a beat, the owner asked if he could stick his finger in the cereal to see if the milk was warm enough!

Our last experience took place in Connecticut. The brochure sounded nice only we missed the line where it said comes complete with grumpy old man. I knew we were in trouble when we entered our room. It was a very hot day, and I was looking forward to turning on the air conditioner - the brochure did say air-conditioned rooms. To my surprise, it meant an open window, and a 3-inch fan above the head of the bed. The fan had metal blades with no protective screening. I imagined waking up in the middle of the night in this strange room, standing up, and getting decapitated. I didn't sleep well that night.

Throughout our whole stay an old man sat in a big overstuffed chair in the living room and didn't move. Every time we walked, or talked, or Chris made a sound, he yelled to keep it down, so technically his mouth moved.

Again, we were told we couldn't use the microwave to heat Chris' bottle. That didn't stop Nancy --we were B&B veterans by now--she boiled water on the stove. The owner almost had a heart attack. I was sure the B&B police would come and haul us away for violating the boiling ordinance. We cut our stay by a day there.

Obviously, I’m illustrating some extreme examples of the B&B experience, So, if you want to accumulate your own stories to tell the grandchildren, here are a few Web sites that will guide you to almost every bed and breakfast in the country:

State Bed & Breakfast Innkeeper Associations

http://www.bbonline.com/listassc.html

Most state associations have standards that their members must meet (like supplying muffins). Many associations also have inspections or are in the process of implementing an inspection program. This site includes a list of 39 state associations along with their current standards/inspection status.

The Internet Guide to Bed & Breakfast Inns

http://www.ultranet.com/biz/inns/

This site has a keyword searchable database of 3000 + B&B's in the USA and other info.

B&B's on the WWW

http://www.webcom.com/~neatstuf/bb/index.html#IND

This web site has an alphabetical listing of B&Bs by State, Canada, and other countries.

Finally, for the B&B operators who want to send me hate email. I've set up a special email address at:

Nobody@home.com

I'll leave the computer on for you.

©1999 Don Rittner

Don is the author of several computer books and loves peanut butter/jelly/banana sandwiches. Reach him at drittner@aol.com.