TO FLY OR NOT TO FLY…
I’m interrupting my planned series to talk about a subject so very close to my heart, travelling. Like most of us I can still remember my first so-called grown-up holiday ie without parents. I was 17 and I went with two friends who had no intention of ‘slumming it’ and so we went to the hotel Conquistador in Playa de las Americas. It was my first pay for yourself holiday and cost £444pp yep that’s how much it was back then in 1987 with Intasun. The usual fortnight of teenage mania occurred, and I don’t think that much has changed really ie start at Tramps then onto Linekers then across the road to Bananas and others I can’t remember, till the sun came up.
When I was in my 20s I worked for a large holiday company and can remember leading a ‘Young at Heart’ educational. The product was aimed at the over 50’s and I was escorting a group of young travel agents to experience the type of activities a Young at Heart customer could expect. Now typically we went to Benidorm, yes that concrete jungle of mass tourism designed to appeal to those who wanted to grab some sangria and sunshine. My first impressions of the old town were lovely, let’s face it, can you ever beat a glass of hot chocolate accompanied by a churro, I was genuinely pleasantly surprised. Then the madness begun…
So first stop a hotel featuring twice daily bingo, who doesn’t love a game of bingo, indoors, so you can keep cool away from that blazing sunshine you so dearly travelled 800 miles for! (And yes that’s my attempt at sarcasm.) Ohh and it was so serious if you didn’t buy a dabber, you were soo bad, if you uttered a single word, you were sssshhhed by the whole place and God forbid you should call out House and not be correct. Wow that was an education.…but it doesn’t end there.
Next stop another hotel but for a session of line dancing. Now don’t ask why but I was in Benidorm in December with a navy suit on and a pair of riding boots, I’m guessing this must have been the thing at the time. Off I trudge to line dancing, I was very wonky and clumsy at the best of times, as for an automatic response to left and right, forget it! I was dancing next to a very pleasant elderly gentleman, at least that’s what I thought. Once the prelim warm-up dancing was done, I was transported into what can only be described as a Miley Cyrus ye huh country music line dancing festival. The kindly gentleman next to me suddenly turned into a hip swinging Patrick Swayze ready to get his gig on with da ladies…but oh he was dancing next to me! I was an uncoordinated giggling mass of a mickey taking 20-year-old and boy did I get a rollicking. Now bear in mind I was the responsible leader of this group employed to show the product and company off to the best of my ability, it was as if Patrick morphed into my Managing Director screaming at me to stop bumping into him, let alone giggle when I said sorry and ultimately for letting my company down for not taking line dancing seriously. Shite and I thought this was just for fun not a full on episode of Strictly does line dancing!
My final stop and excursion was to experience a ‘Young At Heart’ tea dance. A lovely hotel in Benidorm with a ballroom, yes ballroom. Now there is a fact you need to know about me very quickly, I grew up in the suburbs and had a fabulous childhood. If you are reading this, I trust you can remember Hyacinth Bouquet…well let’s just say I lived on a council estate and my Mum sent me to ballroom dancing lessons – I trust you get the picture. Now I can say this is the first of only two episodes in my life whereby those lessons were in anyway bloody useful. So, to re-establish my credibility as group leader and total professional employee of the #1 holiday company in the UK I chose a target. Rather like the Terminator I scanned the room looking for a suitable Grandad target, I didn’t want a repeat of Patrick. There he was a slim build, not too tall, not quite geriatric gentleman smiling in conversation. After telling my group this was how it’s done, I approached the gentleman and asked if he would care to waltz with me. He said No! The group fell about laughing, I felt a complete idiot, I mean come on Grandad an attractive 20-year-old wants to dance with you and you say no, WTF? I won’t bore you with further details cause it’s all rather a haze, but rest assured I did end up waltzing around the ballroom with a portly, sweaty gentleman which wasn’t the best experience, but I had redeemed myself and I felt I had justified my Mum paying out for sodding lessons in the first place.
Ok so what’s the point in telling these stories (and I have so many more about life in the travel industry) all pre diagnosis, but you can kinda see the trend as in the MS was always there in the background, I just didn’t know it. Fabulous memories and I really don’t want my life to be about memories I need to create new ones.
I’ve spoken before about holidaying on a fancy boat on the Norfolk Broads for the last 5 years or so however my last overseas trip was to New York at Christmas 2018. I know right now I would struggle to recreate that holiday i.e., walking distance, standing up queuing but I refuse to give in. Plus, I’m pretty sure there is a business idea bubbling in my head about those who are ‘discreetly’ disabled. I abhor labelling, but it’s a fact I am a blue badge holder and there must be a proposition for those of us who just need a little consideration when travelling. So, I’ve set myself a goal, write a business plan and aim to fly again, one day…
