We got married on a cruise ship ten years ago — just the two of us, the officiant, and a few crew members as witnesses. Quiet, intimate, and exactly how we liked it.
If I could change one thing though, I wish my kids had been there. But maybe next time, when we renew our vows, I’ll make sure they’re front row with tissues and cocktails in hand.
And now, we’re about to sail again — hopefully this time with fewer arguments about my overpacking.
What the hell were these so-called travel “experts” thinking?
I read an article — yes, from a very popular travel site that shall remain nameless (let’s just say it rhymes with Ravel & Leisure) — that said:
“Put your luggage in the bathtub when you arrive at your hotel.
Rip off the sheets.
Look behind the frames.
Inspect the seams of chairs, cushions, cracks, and crevices.
Check the lamps.
Crawl around with a flashlight like CSI: Marriott Edition.
Buy a thermal bug killer.
Basically, turn your vacation into pest control training.”
Excuse me… what?
Gurl, why do you even travel if you’re going to spend the first hour of your trip checking for microscopic roommates?
I didn’t come to Bali to wrestle with a bedspread.
I came to sip mango juice and pretend my problems can’t reach international waters.
Long-haul flights already drain the life out of me — even when I fly flat, eat with real cutlery, and pretend I’m rich.
The only thing I want when I land is a shower, a little exploring, and a Mi Goreng I don’t have to share.
But apparently, I should start my vacation like I’m starring in Law & Order: Hotel Victims Unit or The Walking Dread: Pest Edition. 😂
Flashlight. Gloves. Lysol (spray or wipes — choose your weapon). Fear.
Why stop there? Should I bring pepper spray, door chains, and a portable bug crematorium too?
Also, no — I’m not replacing my favorite makeup palette just to pack a gadget that burns invisible bugs.
That palette is my emotional support shimmer, thank you very much.
It’s not vanity. It’s therapy.
I travel to relax.
I travel to forget that adulting is a full-time crisis.
If I wanted anxiety, I’d just check my email… or my credit card bill.
And yes, I understand being cautious.
But can we stop posting these things in an authoritative tone like they’re the ten commandments from Mount Marriott?
There’s a difference between being prepared and being paralyzed.
And I guess some of these writers are backpackers turned digital nomads. You just gotta choose who you listen to.
Some of them forgot that travel is supposed to make you lighter, not load you with new fears.
If I’m paying for a beautiful hotel room, I’m not going to rip it apart like a forensic intern on their first day.
Clutter creates chaos, and chaos eats away at peace faster than any bug ever could.
Do I put my luggage on the bed? No — because it’s been through more public spaces than my social life.
And honestly, I like to keep my bed pristine — that’s my sacred recovery zone.
Bad feng shui, bad vibes, and bad sleep if I start mixing airport germs with pillow energy.
But a bug surviving a luggage conveyor belt?
That’s not a bed bug. That’s a Marvel villain. Not Ant-man. 😎
I love hotels with luggage racks.
I hang my clothes. I unpack. I use the dresser.
Because living out of a suitcase feels like living half a life — and I’m too old for half-measures. And too old to go walking out with more wrinkles than my skin.
I’ll admit, I sometimes still live out of my suitcase when it’s just a quick weekend in Lake Tahoe to keep my Caesars Rewards points alive.
But that’s strategy, not neurosis. 😂
And for the record — if there’s ever a fire and your suitcase is in the bathtub?
Congratulations, genius. You’re now hotel rotisserie.
(And look, I get the paranoia - my 93-year-old MIL still blocks her door with a chair, so grandma paranoia runs deep. Maybe it’s genetic.)
#HotTakes #HotTubs
I travel for peace, not paranoia.
If bed bugs are my destiny, I’ll deal with it — after crying, scratching, and Googling how much Benadryl I can legally take. Until then, I’m staying exfoliated, hydrated, and blissfully in denial.
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