10 reasons not to bother going on a package holiday this summer.
As the whole economy (and more or less life as we know it) is on the verge of collapse, we can’t help but miss those Celtic Tiger luxuries; the daily smoothie; the just-because-I’m-tired taxi and the can’t-be-arsed-to-cook-on-a-weekday meal out. The thrice-a-year package holiday definitely falls into a similar bracket, and was one of the first extravagances to be slashed from household budgets. So to appease all those who, in times of abundance, would have been checking their grossly overweight bags onto a medium priced airline, here are the 10 main reasons that holidays are never as good as the brochure promises…
Up at 5 in the morning, an inappropriate frisk though a twenty-minute security queue only to arrive at a delayed flight which appears to be entirely filled with crying babies. Ahhh, the joys of flying.
So a studio apartment sounded like a good way to save an extra €50 and the pictures made it look palatial. Anyway, you were going to be out, windsurfing and eating salads so you wouldn’t end up spending much time there. Right? Wrong. A freak rainstorm has hit, your electricity’s gone and you’re stuck playing with a deck of cards that’s missing two Kings and the Two of Clubs. Meanwhile your loo is one meter from your toaster, and your other half rediscovers their nineties death metal collection.
The advert said four-star entertainment, nightly; however a loud, tanned Englishwoman, the wrong side of thirty with mucho make up and sad, sad eyes; and the Spanish version of Crystal Swing playing eighties pop – well it’s probably a bad ploy to sell more drink. See drinking…
Like an on/off switch, this seems to have just two settings: violent typhoon or scorching sun. The very first day of the aforementioned good weather, you’ll be burnt to a crisp and have to spend the rest of your days in some cloak-like garment you purchased from a bronzed local who thinks you look hilarious.
Surfing, jet skis, cycling, snorkeling, historical walking tours, banana-boating, trips to beautiful local areas, hiking, site-seeing – you won’t do any of these. See drinking…
Not the friendly people you read about in the guide book, the only indigenous people you’ve come across are leery locals and overenthusiastic restaurant workers who chase you down the road with their menus and promise of “BERRY NIIIICE, BERRY CHEEEIIP” food.
It was like something out of a Jane Austen novel; You met their gaze across the dancefloor of “Irish Pub”; they’re the most attractive person you’ve ever seen and you have SOOO much in common. That is until you sober up, realize what a mankbag they were and then have to spend the rest of the week avoiding them like the plague. See Drinking…
Sound familiar? “This holiday is all bout toning up. With salads and exercise, I’m going to go back tanned fit and rejuvenated.” BAM. It’s three days in and you can barely move due to a carb-induced coma. You’re after eating your bodyweight in burgers and lasagna. You’ve managed to consume four pizzas already and put away enough ice-cream to build an igloo.
People on Trip Adviser keep mentioning how good the shopping is, but all you can see are some rubbish trinkets and some nasty knockoff bags and wallets –all of which you are forced to buy for the ungrateful people back home. Thus making your suitcase massively overweight, taking up valuable duty-free space and costing you a fortune.
After this holiday, you will in fact need another holiday to get over your hangover. You’ve invited two-thirds of Germany back to your home to stay on your couch and there’s some dodgy footage online of you singing some very ropey karaoke. You’re liver has been pickled, but at least when you arrive back into the unimpressive Terminal 1, you can pass off that jaundice pallour as a tan.
Posted in Staff Writer |