The Dangers of Making Holiday Friends

Every vaycay acquaintance presents an all-too real risk.

Making friends with fellow holidaymakers is a risky business. As anyone less than God-given friendship material can really taint a holiday experience. Especially if that vacay acquaintance happens to live within the same leisure compound as you.

The wrong choice introduces obligation into the one week a year that should be free from all the mild dread of everyday life. Truth be told, even wasting one lazy lunch with some nice-enough strangers seems a grave injustice. 

Double trouble

For all the relationship-havers out there, engaging with a couple on holiday is doubly dangerous. Not just because there’s twice the chance one’s an almighty tool - but, at any given moment, an involuntary dinner arrangement could unfold around you. Be warned, as a general rule, half the couple will have a low-burning vendetta against all living waitstaff. 

Get ready to bat pleasantries back and forth for a half-speed double date. Each couple getting to the crux of their latest anecdote, before realising all its funny is woven into the fabric of their own relationship. Everyone just about doing their bit for a conversation as stimulating as sediment. 

Soooo, what do you guys do - when you’re not enjoying surroundings so exquisite you’d briefly forgotten about what you do?

After each answered question, the conversation reaches the end of its natural life - before some brave soul steps in to resuscitate it. The kind of drudging communication that dulls even the flavour of the food. 

As all parties eat and sleep within yards of one another, the promise to “do this again, sometime” is worryingly keepable. No holiday should be ruled by the fear of being accosted with unwanted luncheons. Getting the ol’ boresome foursome back together is only ever one mistimed buffet lap away - “Ah - hi there!” 

So begins a week-long game of on-campus hide and seek with an outspoken Brazilian heiress and her meek topographer fiancé - alright, alright, that limp attempt at a relatable example was, in fact, just one quite-irritating couple I had to have one specific dinner with.  

The lone ranger

There’s more to life than ruminating on a beach for days on end. As a result, the lone holidaymaker has become a master of social infiltration. One eye rests on a crisp-new raunchy novella, while the other scans the watering hole for potential companionship. 

For all the empowering social media content - ‘boarding pass for 1’ reads like a poem in four words. Everyone knows they went for that madcap selfie out of practicality, rather than fun. 

How is it that, in their life to date, they have yet to find one single human being to share a holiday with? A question that soon loses intrigue as they make inroads into a conversation. All too keen to involve someone, anyone else in the lively discussion they’ve been having with themself over drinks.

The solo tripper is absolutely peerless in their pursuit. These high-performance third wheels breeze from one imposition to the next. Waiting out the social cues and coded glances, until securing the pity-invite they’d been angling for. 

Well, as long as that’s ok with you guys?

Before you know it, you are locked in passive-aggressive competition for Dutch-Indonesian entrées with proud air miles blogger and ashamed homosexual, Martin. Jesus, we’re on a weekend break - take the fucking hint, Martin. Right, sorry, that’s that off my chest.

All-inclusive annoyances

After 6 or 7 horizontal mojitos, two hotel guests splurge into a conversation and soon discover a downright serendipitous shared interest in alcohol and sunshine. Half of the friendship wakes up with a pillow pasted to their chin, a few hazy fragments of a poolside rapport and a profound sense of regret - oh no, no surely not, have I just made a holiday friend? 

Now here they are - cocking, firing and cooling the double gun fingers at the business end of the breakfast trough. Wearing a grin that ate a shit-eating grin and a vest that’s likely part of their off-season wardrobe, too. Catch your warped reflection in the scrambled egg tray, and take a moment to compose yourself. Christ, Christ, Christ.

There are myriad approaches to annoying, like anyone who uses myriad more than none. Or a self-publicist who just trumpets the sticky specifics of their sexual encounters. Or folks who tell anyone who’ll listen the comedy title of their wifi router, before dissecting each meaning of the pun.

“It’s me, again!” - acknowledging their intrusion in a one-off squeal of self-awareness. 

Before you know it, you’ve brought a half-full, glass ashtray crashing down on his large, inviting face, repeatedly - and you're hacking at the wet sand with a children’s spade, trying to bury his self-satisfied corpse before first light. Alright, alright, that was just one very specific fantasy. 

There’s a reason ‘mediate between 2 eventual divorcees’ doesn’t make it onto most holiday itineraries. And nobody takes any satisfaction in breaking off eye contact with widows, or keeping barstool acquaintances at arm’s length, but it’s ok to want a bit of time for yourself. 

Every desperate post-pandemic travel agency was actually right - holidays are about spending time with the people we love. Why is it then that the possibility of true friendship is always worth the gamble?