Ten things, in the order I want them
This is the trip I'm asking for. Everything below is the arithmetic that says it works — not a wish list, a schedule that survives the closures, the cold and the walking.
Every plan, side by side
Each column is one person's week. Green rows are the slots you already agree on — everything else is a conversation someone still has to have.
Where the day actually takes you
Every venue plotted to scale, with the selected day's route from the hotel and back. This is the tab that decides whether you walk or spend the twenty bucks.
Your ballot
Drag to reorder, or use the arrows. Your top four are what a shortened trip keeps; your top thirteen are what the board protects. The star is your one must-do — whatever you star gets placed before anything else, even if the rest of the family outvotes you.
The tally
Points are Borda: first place on a ballot is worth 18, last is worth 1. Highlighted rows are the ones the family splits hardest on — those are the conversations worth having at dinner, not on the board.
Everything on the table
Twenty-five places, with the facts that actually decide a schedule rather than the ones that sell a brochure.