Mermaid Hotel Rating System

Ah, the "Mermaid Hotel Rating System." Because, let’s be honest, unless you’re a literal siren who can magically float through the air, navigating most "accessible" hotels feels like trying to swim upstream in a suit of armor.

At Travels with My Mermaid, we’re done with the vague "ADA Compliant" sticker that usually translates to: "We have a ramp, but it’s at a 45-degree angle and hidden behind the dumpsters." We’ve developed a rigorous, rather subjective, and entirely necessary rating system for the Ambulatory Disabled—you know, those of us who walk like a fish out of water…

Here is how we’re grading the world, one marble staircase at a time -- without handrails. 

The Five Pillars of Not Falling Down

1. Property Entrance and Environs (The "First Impression" Trap)

We look at the arrival path. Is it a smooth glide into the lobby, or am I tackling a cobblestone "European charm" nightmare that aggravates my bone spurs and twists my ankle? We also check the doors. If I have to wrestle a heavy manual door with a smooth "O-shaped" knob while balancing on a cane, I’m not a guest; I’m an accidental gladiator.

2. Stairs and Elevators (The "Hidden Step" Horror)

We check for handrail continuity. Do they actually run the full length, or do they just... quit halfway? And let’s talk about those "hidden" single steps—the ones designed by architects who clearly want to see a lawsuit in action. If one can’t turn a chair around in your elevator without performing a 12-point U-turn, you’re losing points.

3. The Room (The "Goldilocks" Bed Problem)

A mattress top should be between 17 and 23 inches. Any higher and I need a literal mountain climbing harness (actually, we carry a stool) to get in; any lower and I’m essentially sleeping on the floor, questioning my life choices. We also look for the "36-inch clearance" rule. If I have to shimmy sideways like a crab to reach the nightstand, it’s a fail.

4. Bathroom Safety (The "Wet and Wild" Zone)

Is the toilet 17 to 19 inches high? Because "low-flow" shouldn't mean "low-altitude." We demand horizontal grab bars and roll-in showers. If there’s a "lip" on that shower floor, I’m not bathing; I’m navigating a mini-hurdle course while naked and slippery. No thank you.

5. Pool and Recreation (The "Beach Entry" Dream)

Is there a lift? A handrail? Is the tile non-slip? Even steps? Or will I slip as soon as my wet foot touches the “stunning” marble?

The Mermaid Scale: From "Good Luck" to "Top Tier"

• Level 1 : Minimal. Expect heavy doors, no rails, and a bed so high you’ll need a Sherpa. The bathroom is essentially a danger zone. Bring your own insurance and speed dial your chiropractor.

• Level 2: Functional. It meets the bare legal minimum, but there’s probably a "surprise" step in the dining room waiting to ruin your brunch.

• Level 3: Reliable. The "Standard." You’ve got your grab bars and your roll-in shower. It’s fine. It’s the "vanilla latte" of accessibility.

• Level 4: Inclusive. Now we’re talking. Thoughtful design, lower counters, and automatic room doors. You might actually feel like a human being here.

• Level 5: Universal. The Gold Standard. Zero-entry pools, staff that actually knows what "ambulatory disability" means, and a layout so seamless you’ll forget you ever struggled.

So...before you book that "Charming Boutique Inn," check the Mermaid Rating. Because you deserve a vacation, not a physical therapy session.