Sometimes, you just have to take the bad with the good. On May 18, I joined my family as we departed New Hampshire, heading to South Carolina to attend my niece’s wedding. But that was just an excuse – I was most excited about the fact that I was getting my first real vacation in two years. (The news never sleeps.)

I was to share my parent’s time-share condo, which they had exchanged for accommodations near the wedding venue.

As we were driving from the airport to the condo, it occurred to me to ask: “This place has Wi-Fi, right?” because I’m a Millennial and these things are important. (Plus, I was supposed to be working on some stories, because the news never sleeps.)

“Of course,” my dad scoffed. “Is there anywhere that doesn’t nowadays?”

Oh, how I lived in hope those early days of our vacation.

The place did not have Wi-Fi. It barely had cable.

OK, not precisely true. There was Wi-Fi in the lobby, which closed at 7 p.m. After 7, the manager told us that we could get “enough bars” to log on in the laundry room. The laundry room had some lovely ambiance, with scattered dryer sheets on the floor and the gentle chugging of the washing machines. The chugging, however, was punctuated by the train roar of an industrial sized air conditioner that burst to life every 15 minutes.

The much advertised lavish outdoor pool that was a major selling point of the place was actually at a – much more well-kept – sister resort three miles away. Or it would be, if it wasn’t seasonal and not due to be filled until two days after we finished our trip.

“It’s not that bad,” my father insisted, looking of the 1970s décor. (He would say that. He booked the place.)

“It’s pretty bad,” I confided to my mother. (It’s not much of a confidence. She’s well-aware.) “Don’t you dare write about this in the newspaper,” my mother tells me. (Meanwhile, I’m thinking: I’m definitely going to write about this for the newspaper.)

But it’s a vacation. We can put up with what I know amounts to some #FirstWorldProblems if we can fill our days with things to do. Like visiting Lake Heartwell at the state park, where there are no beaches but plenty of beechnuts littering the ground, ready to gouge the feet of the unsuspecting barefoot tourists.

OK, the attractions were pretty much a bust, too.

But it didn’t much matter, in the end. We attended my niece’s wedding and saw her start a new chapter in her life. And when we finally abandoned the condo to spend the last two days of our stay with an aunt (where I slept on a couch that was still infinitely preferable to the rock-hard mattress at the condo) we got to spend time with relatives we rarely see.

And for that, I’d put up with much more than virtually nonexistent Wi-Fi, a rock-hard mattress and decor left over from the 1970s.

Ashley Saari can be reached at 924-7172, ext.232 or at asaari@ledgertranscript.com.