I planned my summer holiday way back in January. Since the hotel and airfare were paid for up front, I was confident this would be a perfect getaway. All I had to do was get there.
Last year’s solo trip to Barcelona surpassed the legal limit of how much fun one person can have on holiday. This year, I made a very strong effort to put any expectations out of my head to avoid any disappointment should this trip not be as fantastic as the last. For seven months, I counted the days like a kid waits for Christmas. I knew Barcelona would come. I knew I would have an incredible holiday and I knew having zero expectations would make the trip just as good as the last – if not better.
Well, my plan worked like a charm. This year, with my expectation meter set to zero, I got way more than I expected. I got the worst fucking vacation I’ve ever had.
It’s one thing to get a little ill while on holiday. I’ve traveled with an occasional cold, sinus infection, mild stomach bug, etc. You just kind of put it in the back of your head and make the best of it. Never in my life have I experienced most of my travel time feeling like a steaming pile of dog shit.
Aside from a horrible headache and gut-wrenching stomach cramps; I could hardly eat, was completely fatigued and had random projectile diarrhea every forty-five minutes. For days!
After the initial onset which lasted about three days, I had a couple of not-so-bad periods where I tried that “make the best of it” thing. Even ventured out to Sitges for a bit after chowing down a box of immodium. Sadly, even immodium couldn’t control my exploding ass. At one point, I crapped in my pants en route to el baÃ±o and because of that, I was terrified to get too far from my room. For two weeks, the farthest I ventured from the hotel was about a mile and that was to spend a day in the hospital hooked up to an IV getting pumped full of medication and fluids. Yeah, I was that sick.
My employer does not offer sick time and vacation. They just give you PTO (Personal Time Off) for any time. When I was hired, I was told I had ten days of PTO which was perfect as that was the exact amount of time I needed off. Two days before I left, I was told since I started my job in March, my PTO was prorated and I didn’t actually have enough time to take off so when I return to work, I have to put in ten-hour days for a week and a half to make up time.
Now, It would be one thing to make up time like that after an insanely wild trip and say, “Who cares? It was worth it!” But no, I’ll be making up time for laying in a fetal position shitting my brains out. To add a smidge of insult to injury, I had this last-minute notion to pamper myself so I upgraded to a Premium room the week before I left.
Yeah…nothing like shelling out an additional 400 euro to shit in a luxurious room with a view and a balcony (that I couldn’t see from the bathroom). Do I know how to travel or what?
The real highlight was hearing the couple next door screwing constantly. The common wall between the two rooms was, you guessed it, the bathroom. I don’t know what he was doing but she was quite vocal in expressing her level of enjoyment. It wasn’t exactly the sound of them having sex, it was the…well, let’s just say the word stamina comes to mind. Hours of operatic vocalizations while the headboard slammed against the wall in a percussive fashion. Of course I can’t really complain as I am confident they got their share of my frequent grunts and groans accompanied by the thunderous reverberation of my butt cheeks playing the toilet bowl like a giant tuba.
It wasn’t all bad. I did see a few people from last year and met a handful of new people. That was a treat. The last two days I had an strong appetite and socialized as best as I could. It’s kind of hard to be outgoing when you’re not feeling well. I tried to salvage the last fleeting moments of my holiday but, for the most part, it was pretty much a disaster and in all honesty, I’m really fucking pissed off at life right now – which is stupid. I can’t be angry at something I cannot control. It is what it is.
Shit happens. Yes, I just said that.
Tonight, I will arrive at my home, get into my shower, slip into my bed with my wonderful hubby who will wrap his arms around me, tell me he loves me and make it all melt away. Ray is awesome like that. I miss him terribly. Parker kitty will be there. We’ll all be safe and comfy together at home and for me, right now, that’s the perfect remedy.