Sheridan's BEST Hotel? Ramada Plaza's SHOCKING Secret Revealed!
Sheridan's BEST Hotel? Ramada Plaza's SHOCKING Secret Revealed! (Spoiler: It's… Complicated.)
Ugh, right, so, Sheridan, Wyoming. Not exactly a destination that screams "luxury getaway," is it? I went in with low expectations, bracing myself for… well, a slightly glorified motel. But a recent stay at the Ramada Plaza (and, let's be honest, it always sounds a little grander than it actually is, doesn't it?)… it left me with a tangled ball of feelings. Let's unravel this, shall we? Buckle up, because it's going to be a bumpy, occasionally delightful, and undoubtedly flawed ride.
The Basics: Accessibility, Internet, and "Things To Do" (or, the "Meh" category… mostly)
Okay, first things first: Accessibility. This is where things start somewhat OK. They claim to be wheelchair accessible, and, looking at the website, there are facilities for disabled guests. I didn’t personally test it, but the fact that they mention it is a start. Though, let's be real, the website felt a little… stock photo-ey about it. You know? Like, "Look! We have a ramp! And a picture of someone in a wheelchair! We're inclusive!" (Insert eye roll). But hey, at least it seemed plausible.
Internet… oh sweet, sweet internet. Thank god they offered Free Wi-Fi in all rooms! It was… well, it worked. Sometimes. Okay, a lot of times. And I really needed it. I mean, I’m addicted to my news feed, streaming services and online shopping. I mean, who isn't these days? And thank goodness for some Internet access [LAN] as a backup! Good for streaming. And, hey, they had Wi-Fi in public areas too. Just in case you couldn't get Wi-Fi in your room. (Insert another eye roll).
Things to do: Ha. Well, there’s Sheridan itself, I suppose. (More on that later.) The hotel, well, let's just say it's not exactly a hub of vibrant activity. But then again, did I really come to Wyoming for a wild time? More like, I came to avoid a wild time.
Relaxation Station: Spa, Sauna, & Stuff… Or, the "Pretending to be Pampered" Zone
Alright, let’s get into the good stuff. Or, what could have been the good stuff. The Ramada Plaza boasts a Spa and sauna! This is where I got actually excited.
The Dream vs. The Reality I entered the spa expecting the plush, zen-like atmosphere of a high-end resort. (I've been watching way too much White Lotus and it's warped my expectations.) The reality? A small, kind of cramped space. The sauna was… functional. The pool with a view (outdoor), well, it was… there. Let’s just say the "view" was mostly the parking lot. More of a pool with a slightly obstructed view. But I did try to go for a swim and it was nice.
The Massage Fiasco I went for a massage at the spa. And I booked a MASSAGE! It was the least relaxing massage I have ever had in my life and the lady was trying to make conversation about things I really didn't care about.
The Verdict So, the spa? It’s not terrible, but it’s not exactly a luxurious retreat. I might have enjoyed the steamroom more.
Cleanliness and Safety: Keeping It Real (and Sanitized, Hopefully)
Okay, let's be serious for a sec. Post-Covid, cleanliness is key. The Ramada Plaza seemed to take this seriously. Anti-viral cleaning products, daily disinfection in common areas, and rooms sanitized between stays? Good. Real good. They had hand sanitizer everywhere.
They also have a lot of the other things. Cashless payment service, Individual-wrapped food options. Staff trained in safety protocol. I mean, they really went all-in on the fear. Which, honestly, I appreciated. I wanted to feel safe and I felt safe.
The Weird Quirks One slightly odd detail? My room had a sign saying I could opt-out of room sanitization. Why? Why would I voluntarily skip room sanitization during a global pandemic? Bizarre.
Dining, Drinking, and Snacking: Fueling the Journey (or, Surviving the Buffet)
Alright, food. This is a big one. The Ramada Plaza boasts a restaurant, a bar, and a coffee shop.
The Buffet Experience They had a breakfast buffet that wasn't half bad. And it was a buffet. I'll give you that. They had Western breakfast, Asian breakfast, and buffet in restaurant. So, for someone who loves their food options, this was great for me! I'm not talking about the highest quality, but hey, you can't expect Michelin stars in Sheridan, can you? The coffee/tea in restaurant was decent, the soup in restaurant was a bit basic. And I don't think anyone really went for the salad.
They had a poolside bar which I thought was a bit strange given the temperature. They also had a snack bar. The Surprise: I was surprised by the Asian cuisine in restaurant. It was actually pretty good.
Services and Conveniences: The Little Things (and The Big Ones)
This section is where the Ramada Plaza kind of shines. They’ve clearly thought about the traveler’s needs.
The Perks Laundry service, dry cleaning, and ironing service? Check, check, and check! Luggage storage, concierge, and a convenience store? Perfect. Air conditioning in public area? God, yes. It was HOT. The daily housekeeping was amazing, I should add. Currency exchange? Handy! They also have elevator! Which is great if you don't feel like going on your feet all day. Facilities for disabled guests? Good. First aid kit? Always a good thing. The gift/souvenir shop was, well, a bit cliché. But hey, you go in there to shop, knowing it will be cliché. Outdoor venue for special events? I didn’t see any events, but the option is there. Safety deposit boxes? Yes. Taxi service? Yes. Car park [free of charge]? Yes! Meeting/banquet facilities? Available.
For the Kids: Family-Friendly or Family-Exasperating?
I don't have kids, so I can’t speak from experience. They advertise babysitting service and are Family/child friendly. They also have Kids facilities and Kids meal.
Available in All Rooms: The Nitty-Gritty of Your Living Space
Here’s where things get… more mixed.
The Good Wi-Fi [free] (again, hallelujah). Air conditioning (thank God). Alarm clock (useful). Bathtub (great for a soak). Coffee/tea maker (essential). Desk (a bit small, but workable). Free bottled water (nice touch). Hair dryer (thank the heavens). Interconnecting room(s) available (good for families). Mini bar (always a plus). Non-smoking (essential, these days). Private bathroom. Refrigerator (helpful). Satellite/cable channels (for the TV). Separate shower/bathtub. Soundproofing. Telephone (for those who still use them). Toiletries. Towels. Wake-up service.
The Meh Carpeting (a bit dated). Closet (small). Mirror (kinda blurry).
The Things I Didn’t Use Additional toilet (didn’t need one). Bathrobes (didn’t use). Laptop workspace (I don't really use these). Linens (I assume were fine). Reading light (didn’t need it). Scale (didn’t want to use it). Seating area (I didn't really use it). Slippers (not my thing). Sofa (just didn't use). Umbrella (didn’t need it).
The Annoyances Bathroom phone (weird). Blackout curtains (didn't always work perfectly). Extra long bed (not that long to matter). In-room safe box (I'm not an international spy, so didn’t need it). Internet access – LAN (Didn't ever work). On-demand movies (expensive). Smoke detector (too sensitive). Socket near the bed (a bit far
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Okay, here we go! Buckle up, buttercups, because my Sheridan, Wyoming Ramada Plaza adventure (or, as I'm starting to think of it, "The Ramada Rumble") is about to be laid bare. Prepare yourselves, because I'm not promising pretty.
The Ramada Rumble: A Chronicle of Carpet Burns and Questionable Coffee
Day 1: Arrival and the Urgent Need for a Fridge (and Maybe Therapy)
- 1:00 PM - Arrival at Sheridan Airport (SHR): Landed. Survived the puddle-jumper ordeal. The flight attendant gave me a look when I asked for a "double espresso, extra foam, hold the judgment." (Hey, gotta start the trip right, even if it's starting in a place that probably doesn't do double espressos). Grabbed my rental, a beige monstrosity that smells faintly of stale french fries. Already regretting not springing for the convertible. Wyoming, and beige, I'm starting to think it's a sign… a sign that I need to lower my expectations for the next few days.
- 1:45 PM - Check-in at Ramada Plaza (aka "The Pink Palace of Potential Disappointment"): Okay, the hotel exterior? Not exactly Instagram-worthy. It screams "comfortably mid-range" in a way that both soothes and slightly terrifies me. The lobby… well, it has a certain je ne sais quoi of faded elegance, like a really polite aunt who's seen some things. I actually got a little too friendly with the receptionist when she told me my last name. She got a bit of a surprised look when I said it like 'James Bond' and was a bit deflated when she told me my room wasn't ready 'yet'.
- 2:30 PM - The Room Revelation (and the Fridge Quest): My room. Ah, the room. It's… functional. The bedspread? A pattern that says, "I have seen a lot of spills." The carpet is a textural exploration of various unknown substances. Critically, there's ZERO fridge. This is a problem. My plan to stockpile cheese, questionable meat products, and suspiciously cheap wine is now in jeopardy. "Are you serious?" I asked the guy helping me with my luggage, "No fridge in the room? Surely this is a violation of the bylaws of basic human happiness!" He just shrugged, gave me a 'been there, done that' look, and offered an extra pillow. The negotiation began. (I have to say, the extra pillow was the best part of the trip.) He seemed to think he lost something.
- 3:00 PM-??? - The Great Fridge Hunt: I embark on the epic quest to locate a mini-fridge. This involves frantic phone calls to the front desk ("Do you have mini-fridges? Is this a joke?"), a brief, awkward encounter with the ice machine (which, I think, saw my soul), and a growing sense of despair. I swear, I almost offered to buy one at the hotel. They looked at me like I was crazy.
- 6:00 PM - Dinner at the Hotel Restaurant (the irony): Gave in. The on-site restaurant, which I shall call "The Greasy Spoon of Sheridan," offers a menu of, let's say, familiar dishes. I opt for the chicken fried steak, because when in Rome… or, well, Sheridan. It tasted like exactly what I expect it to taste like: a bland, fried, and slightly depressing monument to processed food. The server, bless her heart, seemed genuinely pleased to see a customer. We bonded over our shared distaste for the weather.
- 7:00 PM - The Emotional Breakdown (sort of): Back in the room. No fridge. Feeling the first pangs of loneliness. Is it that bad to eat alone in a hotel room? Yes. Yes it is. I start re-imagining my life as a cheese-loving hermit who lives in a shed and talks to squirrels. I try to resist the urge to order from the hotel. I watch TV and wonder if it's too early to watch the news.
- 9:00 PM - Bedtime Ritual (or, the Art of Pretending Everything is Fine): The TV is turned off after an hour of mind-numbing entertainment. I try and decide if the thermostat is working or if I'm just getting used to a cold room. I finally decide this whole trip is a conspiracy. I close my eyes. I think I can hear the carpet breathing.
Day 2: The Wild West (and My War Against the Wifi)
- 7:00 AM - The Breakfast Debacle: Breakfast at "The Greasy Spoon." The eggs? Suspect. The coffee? Apparently, the blood of the earth is better. I'm beginning to develop a caffeine headache. The breakfast buffet, overall, is a monument to mass-produced mediocrity. I load up on carbs, because, you know, reasons.
- 8:00 AM - The Wifi Wars: The hotel wifi. Oh, the wifi. Let's just say, it's less "high-speed internet" and more "dial-up resurrection." I spend the next hour wrestling with buffering videos and lagging web pages. It's a battle of wills. I make sure to bring back the extra pillow from my last night.
- 9:00 AM - Sightseeing: The Sheridan Wools My goal here was to check out the history of the area. I'm still trying to figure out why I'm stuck here. I spent far too long in The Sheridan Wools museum, and the exhibits were fairly bland. It was fine, I guess, but not the kind of thing you leave wanting more of.
- 12:00 PM - Lunch: "The Local Diner" (aka "The Place With the Only Other People"): I venture into the local diner, a place where the waitresses call you "hon" and the portions are colossal. I get a burger, fries, and a milkshake. It's the kind of place that makes you feel like you're in a John Hughes movie (the sad one). The food is not great, but it's comfortable in a weird way.
- 2:00 PM - More of the Wild West: After a quick jaunt to the local mall (which seems like it may have been the only other open place in the middle of the day), I did some driving. It was beautiful, but the temperature was dropping as the day went on, so I cut it short.
- 6:00 PM - Dinner (Desperation Edition): Back at the hotel, feeling the siren song of processed snacks. I debate ordering room service (which I'm pretty sure is just the same Greasy Spoon food, delivered to your room), but ultimately decide to embrace the solitude and eat the cheese and crackers, supplemented by suspiciously cheap wine, that I somehow acquired.
- 7:30 PM - The Room's Embrace (or, "Why I Might Need a Pet Rock"): I have a full day yet, but I'm already feeling that the room is becoming a friend. Even the musty carpet breathes a little less threateningly.
- 9:00 PM - Shut-eye: The TV is back on as I wonder if I should get up and go to bed.
Day 3: Departure (and the Untamed Spirit of Underwhelming)
- 7:00 AM - Farewell, Breakfast: The last breakfast at "The Greasy Spoon." The same suspects are present: the questionable eggs, the coffee that seems to have come from a swamp, and the growing sense of melancholy.
- 8:00 AM - A Final Reconnaissance of the Toiletries: Did I need all those little bottles of shampoo? I couldn't decide.
- 9:00 AM - Check-Out: (and a Goodbye to a Hotel): The check-out process is remarkably uneventful. I politely thank the receptionist.
- 9:30 AM - The Farewell Embrace and the Road: I hit the road. I leave Sheridan, feeling… oddly neutral. The Ramada Plaza may not have been a grand adventure, but it was my adventure. I may not have the fridge of my dreams, or a perfect plan, but I do have memories. As I drove away, I realized that the "Ramada Rumble" was, in its messy, imperfect way, a pretty good story.
So there you have it. My Ramada adventure. It wasn't pretty. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't exactly fun. But it was real. And it was mine. And, dammit, I survived. Now, about that therapy appointment…
Escape to Paradise: Jeju's Kkothyanggi Badasori Pension Awaits!
So, like, what even *is* it? (We're talking about the thing we should have identified, but I'm assuming the user knows what we're talking about because, well, they're asking about it.)
Ugh, okay, fine. Let's just say... it's complicated. Imagine trying to explain the color blue to a blind person. Or explaining the plot of "Inception" to someone who just woke up from a nap. That's kinda where we're at with this whole "what is it" question. Essentially... it's a collection of interconnected experiences, thoughts, and events related to [**Insert Subject Here, whatever the heck the user is actually asking about - I'm purposely leaving this vague because THIS IS MEANT TO BE ABOUT THE USER'S SUBJECT. Fill it in!**]. Sorry, I'm just trying to be vague. It's like... a rollercoaster. A really, really long, twisty, sometimes sickeningly fun rollercoaster.
Is it... safe? (I'm already bracing myself.)
Safe? *
Okay, fine, but HOW do I even... get started? (Seriously, I'm lost.)
Ah, the million-dollar question. Honestly? I have absolutely *no* clue. No, really. There's no magic formula. No secret handshake. I wish I could say, "Do X, then Y, then Z, and BAM, you're in!" But that's just not how the cookie crumbles, and the cookie on this thing here is a *very* crunchy cookie. I've tried and failed more times than I care to admit. But, if I had to *guess*... and this is just based on my utterly unscientific, purely emotional, completely messy experience... you maybe just give it a shot? Maybe one tiny toe dip in the water. Or maybe just *think* about dipping. Don't overthink it. Don't plan it to death. Just... feel it out. And prepare to be surprised. You will.
What are the benefits? (Tell me it's worth it!)
Benefits? Oh, honey, that's a loaded question. You'll be changed, FOR SURE. You might even find something actually meaningful. Maybe. Maybe you'll learn. Or maybe you'll just learn how to cry in the shower. Both are options! Here's the upside: You might experience joy so intense it makes your teeth ache. You might discover parts of yourself you never knew existed. You might find a community of wonderfully weird, beautiful people. You might have a big party. You might even get to do something really cool! Maybe. The *real* benefit? The scars. The messy, imperfect, sometimes ugly, always beautiful scars. Those are what make you, *you*. And that, my friend, is a treasure worth more than all the gold in the world. And that's what you're left with when it's all said and done.
What are the downsides? (Be honest, I can take it.)
Downsides? Oh, where do I even *begin*? Let's just say I have a whole list of grievances. This thing... [**Subject, remember?**]... it can be a real… well, let’s say it can be a jerk sometimes. You'll feel the sting. You'll probably experience rejection. You’ll definitely face setbacks. There will be moments when you want to curl up in a ball and give up. You'll question your sanity. You'll probably want to scream. Possibly at me, right now. I’m used to it. It’s fine. Whatever feelings. Oh, and did I mention the potential for heartbreak? Yeah. That's a big one. Like, "ice cream, rom-coms, and ugly crying in your pajamas" big. But hey, at least there’s ice cream, right?
I heard there were some, like, *rules* or things I shouldn't do. True?
"Rules"? Oh, darling, if anyone tells you there are *rules* to this… [**Again!**]… run. Run far, run fast, and don't look back. There are "guidelines," yes. There are "suggestions." There are things that you are probably not meant to do, but those are also just good for a laugh, and maybe a good story later. My advice? Don't be a jerk. Try to be kind. Don't be afraid to fail. Don't take yourself too seriously. And for the love of all that is holy, *trust your gut*. That little voice in your head? Listen to it. It knows more than you think. At least, that's what I tell myself when I'm about to make a truly disastrous decision.
Okay, but what if I mess it up? (I’m already panicking.)
Mess it up? Oh, sweetie, you *will*. Everyone does. It's practically a rite of passage. I've made enough mistakes to fill a library. And guess what? I'm *still* here. Still trying to make sense of it all. The beauty of this... [**You get it. Subject.**]... is that there is no "messing it up" completely. There are detours, wrong turns, and epic faceplants, sure. But those are just chapters in a story, not a full stop. Learn from it. Laugh about it. And then, dust yourself off and try again. (Or, you know, crawl under a blanket and eat a whole pizza. No judgment.)
Tell me about your worst experience. I want detailsHotelish
