The Sunseeker Resort Florida Gulf Coast, Curio Collection by Hilton (yes, that is its full name) of Port Charlotte is perched right on the waterfront. It’s an extraordinary structure, tall and white and gleaming, practically on top of Charlotte Harbor.
The land used to be unremarkable here, a little spit of land with a mini-golf shack on top of it. Now, after five years of construction hassled by a pandemic and hurricanes as well as a change in ownership, the resort is open to the public.
It touts itself as a glamorous location for the discerning traveler and businessperson alike. The price for their average room isn’t all that outrageous, totaling about $200 for two nights–provided you book three months in advance. But to a jaded twenty-something, it’s just the same as every other hotel pretending to be the epitome of class—it just fakes better.
Just off the highway, before the bridge into Punta Gorda, there is a massive metallic arch bearing the resort’s name that beckons the average person like a siren’s call to the lap of the wealthy. There’s even an outdoor water feature to circle before parking and entering.
The lobby is as minimalist and clean as you’d expect. The walls, tall ceilings, and floors are covered in white and shades of gray, with wood accents and pops of color out of the “Home and Gardens” channel. The backsplash behind the reception desks features a tiled mosaic of Aegean blue and sandy tan in an abstract island-like or wave-like pattern, subtly reminding patrons that, yes, they’re in Florida.
Meanwhile, the couches situated around the top-down windows are about as comfortable as a wooden board and equally as stiff, meant more for the “atmosphere” than actual sitting.
The lobby is mostly empty, save for older couples passing through or checking in—retired folks, looking to treat themselves to a 4.2-star Hilton retreat. A family or two enters and leaves. It’s quiet, nearly sterile. This doesn’t feel like the place, say, a lower-middle-class college student with her ten-year-old sister would visit, however briefly, during spring break.
There’s a coldness here, and not just from the excessive air conditioning. Hotels are curated experiences, sure, but actual luxury tends to whisper in the perfect polish and the well-oiled functioning. The luxury at the Sunseeker screams from the rooftop pool with an “out of service” hot tub down to the “disorganized” service with hour-plus waits everywhere, as multiple disgruntled Google reviewers write.
Going left from the lobby leads to the elevators and parking garage, while going right leads to the “upscale” food court. Diners can wander in and browse the stalls, at least when they’re open. Props must be given for the hearty breakfast potatoes, and flavorful sausage—all much better than the powdered eggs and prepackaged muffins you would pick up from a Comfort Inn buffet, for example. But you’re still sitting in a hard plastic chair in an open dining hall with packets of Smuckers jam.
To a kid from an average household, though, these experiences that more cynical adults might look down on are still near magical compared to their everyday life.
A child might not appreciate or dislike modern design like grown-ups do, but they love the excitement of sleeping away from home and ordering from restaurants, regardless of how long the food takes to get there. A 10-year-old girl would still love the fluffy pancakes and utterly drown them in the syrup provided.
Of course, who could neglect to mention the amenities—a fitness center with specialty instructors, a full-service spa and salon, market shops, ballrooms and convention halls, all Jenga-ed into one building. Then a sprawling 18-hole golf course stretches into Port Charlotte, surrounded by actual green and southern flora, reserved for hotel guests. Maybe you can finally learn why presidents love to play it so much.
But the crown jewel of the Sunseeker is undoubtedly the heated Reflections Pool: nearly 20 thousand square feet, filled with 500,000 gallons of crisp, clear, chlorinated water. There’s a shallow end for kids to splash about in, the far end has a two-story waterfall, and stubby little arms sprout from the pool’s snaking body. (Evidently, this is the shape of luxury.)
It’s beautiful here, with the white-topped cabanas and blue umbrellas and recliners lining the pool’s edge, surrounded by real palms and shrubbery. People of all ages gather, from families to solo travellers to couples. The pool is the great equalizer, where everyone can enjoy themselves regardless of wealth inequality or a young adult’s moral grandstanding. From here, reclining back beside one of the biggest pools in Florida and basking in the sun, you can almost forget that you’re only masquerading as the wealthy.
Admittedly, this is all a very limited perspective from four hours of observation and a collection of online reviews. At the end of the day, the Sunseeker is still an overall nice hotel with a variety of food options, an abundance of services, and a pretty spectacular pool. Despite the prices that can seem ridiculous and the complaints one might lob at it, it’s a resort that succeeds at portraying a luxury experience for the local and out-of-town populace alike.
And yes, the ten-year-old had a blast splashing around in the pool.
