The worst holiday of my life
March 2nd 2008 19:00
When I’m in my sixties, I hope to someday have saved up enough money, to book myself on a cruise and lie on a deck while some hot young waiter serves me cocktails in a glass big enough for my head to fit into and my biggest dilemma is whether to do ballroom dancing or macramé at 4pm.
If one can get over the idea of being on the open seas which makes me nauseous, just thinking about it, I do so like the idea of a cruise. Much like Diane Brimble, I imagine. Here was a woman who saved up for the trip of a lifetime, only to die naked on the floor of some strange man’s cabin. It is one of those tragic ends no-one can undo or make better, made less bearable by the circumstances and the company she fell into in her last few hours. One of the men implicated in her death, lamented at some point during the press coverage of the case, that his holiday aboard the Pacific Sky cruise ship, was ‘ruined by Dianne Brimble’s death in his cabin.’
I guess someone dying on you could do that – ruin your holiday.
I’ve had some pretty unpleasant holidays. Discounting those in the wilds, where I had to sleep on gravel, do my ablutions in the bush (including using what Nature offered up as toilet-paper) and eat desiccated three course meals to which water had to be added, one particular holiday in Swaziland springs to mind.
I was only nineteen, traveling with my best friend at the time, and we were staying in a hotel somewhere up in the mountains. We and one other family. That was it. I was already quite creeped out as the hotel was miles from anywhere, replete with ‘The Shining,’ atmosphere of a place quite deserted and yet catering for the handful of guests who could only afford ‘off-season’ rates in pretty off-season places.
At dinner the first night, my friend and I were engrossed in conversation at a table at one end of the huge dining room, while the family was dining at a table on the far side. We heard someone coughing as if someone had swallowed something the wrong way. The coughing got more urgent, and we looked over to see that the old lady at the table was, it appeared, choking. We watched in horror as various family members tried the Heimlich maneuver and banged her on the back. But she slumped to the floor. Family members were crying and calling her name. But soon there was a silence I will never forget.
The manager came over to our table, apologetically, to inform us that ‘one of the guests had died.’
Given the isolation of the hotel, the body had to be kept overnight in one of the rooms.
That night, neither my friend nor I slept very well.
Did that old lady ruin our holiday by dying in the dining room just as we had finished soup and were awaiting the beef stroganoff? Her death certainly cast a pall on our spirits. I did not end up having the relaxing, unwinding recover-from-a-broken-heart holiday I had hoped to have.
My friend and I spoke a lot about death, mortality and what we wanted out of the rest of our lives. We cried a lot too. It heightened our senses, our urgency to experience things and not let a moment go wasted. That holiday I had four holes pierced in my right ear and didn’t worry about my father’s reaction. We hitched rides and went for walks through the woods, instead of worrying about the dangers. We drank whiskey shots and laughed loudly. We made promises to one another to live large and ‘suck the marrow’ out of life.
Perhaps someone dying on one’s holiday could ruin it. But that old lady's death graphically taught me, at a time when I might have thought I had all the time in the world, to enjoy the mushroom soup, as there are no guarantees we will get to the chicken schnitzel.
What is the worst holiday you've had?
www.joannefedler.com
If one can get over the idea of being on the open seas which makes me nauseous, just thinking about it, I do so like the idea of a cruise. Much like Diane Brimble, I imagine. Here was a woman who saved up for the trip of a lifetime, only to die naked on the floor of some strange man’s cabin. It is one of those tragic ends no-one can undo or make better, made less bearable by the circumstances and the company she fell into in her last few hours. One of the men implicated in her death, lamented at some point during the press coverage of the case, that his holiday aboard the Pacific Sky cruise ship, was ‘ruined by Dianne Brimble’s death in his cabin.’
I guess someone dying on you could do that – ruin your holiday.
I’ve had some pretty unpleasant holidays. Discounting those in the wilds, where I had to sleep on gravel, do my ablutions in the bush (including using what Nature offered up as toilet-paper) and eat desiccated three course meals to which water had to be added, one particular holiday in Swaziland springs to mind.
foggy road in Swaziland image courtesy of www.mbzponton.org
I was only nineteen, traveling with my best friend at the time, and we were staying in a hotel somewhere up in the mountains. We and one other family. That was it. I was already quite creeped out as the hotel was miles from anywhere, replete with ‘The Shining,’ atmosphere of a place quite deserted and yet catering for the handful of guests who could only afford ‘off-season’ rates in pretty off-season places.
At dinner the first night, my friend and I were engrossed in conversation at a table at one end of the huge dining room, while the family was dining at a table on the far side. We heard someone coughing as if someone had swallowed something the wrong way. The coughing got more urgent, and we looked over to see that the old lady at the table was, it appeared, choking. We watched in horror as various family members tried the Heimlich maneuver and banged her on the back. But she slumped to the floor. Family members were crying and calling her name. But soon there was a silence I will never forget.
Swaziland mountains near Piggs Peak image copyright of www.mccullagh.org
The manager came over to our table, apologetically, to inform us that ‘one of the guests had died.’
Given the isolation of the hotel, the body had to be kept overnight in one of the rooms.
That night, neither my friend nor I slept very well.
Did that old lady ruin our holiday by dying in the dining room just as we had finished soup and were awaiting the beef stroganoff? Her death certainly cast a pall on our spirits. I did not end up having the relaxing, unwinding recover-from-a-broken-heart holiday I had hoped to have.
My friend and I spoke a lot about death, mortality and what we wanted out of the rest of our lives. We cried a lot too. It heightened our senses, our urgency to experience things and not let a moment go wasted. That holiday I had four holes pierced in my right ear and didn’t worry about my father’s reaction. We hitched rides and went for walks through the woods, instead of worrying about the dangers. We drank whiskey shots and laughed loudly. We made promises to one another to live large and ‘suck the marrow’ out of life.
Perhaps someone dying on one’s holiday could ruin it. But that old lady's death graphically taught me, at a time when I might have thought I had all the time in the world, to enjoy the mushroom soup, as there are no guarantees we will get to the chicken schnitzel.
What is the worst holiday you've had?
www.joannefedler.com
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Comment by JP Shaw
Sassy Ink Author
Parent Writer
Me I was sixteen, our high school band and vocal jazz quoir traveled to Europe. We went to Switzerland, Germany, saw Venice and France and a part of Greece. On our last day touring and performing I felt under the weather. Suddenly I found myself in my bunk running a fever close to death. I was at 105 and rising. A doctor came and said I had caught the German flu. I remember being so hot, throwing up non stop. I just wanted to go home. I also couldn't hear because I was so congested.
On the plane ride home while landing both my ear drums burst and began to bleed. My mom thought I was going to be deaf for the rest of my life. I thankfully recovered. Being that sick, far away from home, missing my family, surrounded by foreign EVERYTHING wasn't easy. But looking back all I keep thinking is if I lost my hearing, at least I got to see Paris.