This Quick Vacation Will Definitely Change Me Forever
Thank you for emailing me!
I will be out of the office through Friday, May 22. There are so many other and far more competent people available during that time I don’t even have to list them here. But I look forward to catching up when I get back. If you’re here for the OOO auto-reply shenanigans, here we go.
As one who dabbles in hospitality branding, I know that when I depart for a vacation I officially slip into my official travel brand PERSONA.
When I leave work, I step into The Leisure Industrial Complex. We ALL do.
I, of course, have used my branding EXPERTISE in order that I might live my true personal brand and authentic self at ALL times within the vacationer ARCHETYPE framework. {read HERE}
So I got THAT going for me.
What I’ve learned is that we increasingly ask a lot of our humble 2-weekers here in the USA.
Whether you prefer to “Fly and Flop” or “Culture Vulture”, there’s often an underlying expectation you will return somehow TRANSFORMED.
Except, a lot of times, we simply reveal the limits of what you can do in two weeks.
And if you look at the disconnect between the journey you embarked on and the one you experienced, you can learn something about the one you should’ve been on all along.
Not me, I’m all sorted like I said. But these are the 6 examples of the vacationer I try not to be:
1. You travel to Restore but find you're...
THE MAX RELAXER
Fly 14 hours to a remote wellness sanctuary. Book sunrise yoga, sound bath, meditation, breathwork, infrared sauna, cold plunge, cacao ceremony, three massages in two days. Arrive at the pool every morning at 6 to claim chairs with fresh towels and frayed paperbacks. Leave early because Wi-Fi is "honestly unusable." Post that you're "deeply changed.” Return home exhausted.
2. You travel to Connect but find you're...
THE MEMORY ENGINEER
Begin planning 14 months in advance. Build a color-coded itinerary, three backups, and a rain contingency. Schedule "spontaneous family time" between lunch and the museum. Hold nightly debriefs to maximize your tomorrow. Spend dinner researching restaurants for the following night. The kids mainly remember the meetings.
3. You travel to Explore but find you're...
THE CHECKLIST CLASSICIST
Visit the Louvre, spend forty-five seconds with the Mona Lisa, photograph the crowd photographing it. Note that it's smaller than expected, as tradition requires. Walk through a three-hundred-year-old church while comparing it to Assassin's Creed. Begin researching Southeast Asia before reaching the airport. Leave convinced you've "done Europe."
4. You travel to Indulge but find you're...
THE LUXURY ASCETIC
Insist it's "about experiences, not things" from the presidential suite. Explain that thread count doesn't matter while requesting different pillows. Photograph the bathroom before unpacking. Order room service because "it's really about slowing down." Drink enough champagne to forget the tasting menu you flew there to experience. Sleep it off past noon every day.
5. You travel to Belong but find you're...
THE AUTHENTICITY HUNTER
Avoid tourist traps by visiting the café TikTok calls "the hidden local secret." Wait forty minutes behind two hundred other authenticity seekers. Order exactly what the influencer recommended. After one walking tour find a lifetime of opportunities to correct people’s pronunciations of a place. Return home referring to Lisbon as "when we lived there." You stayed five nights.
6. You travel to Transform but find you're...
THE TRANSFORMATION CHASER
Pack linen, a leather journal, and the version of yourself you're hoping to become. Book the retreat, the forest bath, and the sunrise ceremony. Write three pages about radical change before breakfast. The main transformation is a commitment to coming back next year to transform again for two weeks. Return with the same habits, but great stationery.
Bonus: The Vacation Isn't Even the Point
These travelers have quietly replaced the purpose of the trip with the performance of it. As though the reason to take a vacation is to demonstrate HOW you take a vacation:
THE MARTYRDOM BUDGETEER
Book the cheapest bed within fifty miles of your destination because suffering builds character. Spend thirty-eight hours on a bus to save $42, then describe it as "honestly the highlight." Eat gas station sandwiches for a week. Return home to tell everyone what they wasted when they went.
THE OFFSET ABSOLUTIST
Fly business class to the Maldives, then purchase enough carbon offsets to achieve inner peace. Judge fellow guests for using plastic straws after arriving by seaplane. Insist on locally owned cafés found through a global tech platform. Return convinced the planet appreciated the effort.
THE POINTS ALCHEMIST
Book three hotels in four nights to maximize elite status. Take the airport train for lounge access you don't need. Explain award redemption strategies to anyone trapped nearby. Call the trip "basically free." Spend fourteen hours earning a vacation that feels suspiciously like work.
THE DOGGY PASSPORT STAMPER
Take your Labrador to six countries because they're "part of the family." Photograph them beside famous landmarks they neither recognize nor appreciate. Research dog-friendly Michelin restaurants they'll sleep through. The dog prefers the park behind your house.
THE 9 A.M. REGRETTIST
Fly across the world for legendary nightlife. Spend mornings renegotiating your relationship with hydration in a hotel bathroom. Sleep through museums, markets, daylight. Explain how the club back home actually has a better sound system. Leave having experienced Greece almost entirely in the dark.
THE INTENTIONALLY LOST
Book nothing because "the best experiences aren't planned." Spend four hours every day solving problems a ten-minute email could have prevented. Suggest abandoning every itinerary for something more authentic. Eat dinner at 11:30 p.m. because "that's what happened." Return with remarkable stories and remarkably few memories of the place itself.
This you?
Well it ain’t gonna be me. But maybe I’ll see some version of you on the road.
