I love everything about this place in theory, but in practice, I think letting my bare foot touch the anonymous filth on the laminate might be a good way to contract one of those rare diseases kept in the refrigerated vials of a secret CDC facility. Mostly, though, it’s because the floor is so sticky that I lose my sandal and have to hobble back for it. Partly, this is because I’m still working on my game plan. Sometimes the weather forces you into a particular situation, such as the one I’m in now, and you have to find second-rate ways to entertain yourself as you wait out the rain.

If it turns out impossibly awkward, who cares? You’ll never see them again! On vacation, you strike up conversations with strangers, and forget that there are any stakes. Maybe I could be this person who doesn’t brush her hair, who doesn’t mind being sweaty or having sand in all her crevices. You think, Maybe I could do this at home too. Maybe you don’t bother to wash your hair at all, or brush it, because the salty ocean water curls it up in a way you love. The water is different, maybe the shampoo. In your day-to-day life, maybe you can’t even bob your head to the radio without being embarrassed, but on the right twinkly-light-strung patio, with the right steel drum band, you’ll find yourself whirling and twirling with the best of them. Like a good book or an incredible outfit, being on vacation transports you into another version of yourself.

People we meet on vacation pages