HOLIDAYS
Me on holiday in the Grand Cayman Islands
Steven Smith explores the emotional impact of going on holiday—how it can make or break friendships, test your sanity, and turn dream escapes into nightmare getaways. PLUS: His top tips for surviving travel with friends.
According to a Daily Telegraph survey conducted by Lloyds of London, eight out of ten people suffer from pre-holiday stress. In fact, numerous studies suggest that after divorce, house moves, and bereavement, going on holiday ranks as one of life’s most stressful events.
The Passion for Travel
Like many in the LGBTQ+ community, I’m fortunate to have the means and opportunity to travel widely—something linked to higher disposable income among our demographic. For me, travel is a passion. I’ve trekked Machu Picchu in Peru, cruised the Nile, dived beneath waterfalls, and flown over volcanoes by helicopter in Maui. I cherish those moments.
Travelling with my partner of 18 years was always a joy. Sure, we had the odd delay or hiccup, but I adore airports and took most things in stride.
Add college friends into the mix, however, and you’ve got a different story. Assuming your friends have the same holiday agenda—or are as organised as you—can be a huge mistake.
Underpants Around His Ankles
It was Christmas morning in Gran Canaria. In the living room of my one-bedroom apartment, a large bearded bear of a man lay passed out on the floor. No, it wasn’t Santa. He had his trousers and underpants around his ankles—but had forgotten to remove his shoes. Behind him stood a naked, naughty elf. It was my friend, Brian Murphy, and I was ready to kill him.
My other friend, Blake Matthews, was in the villa next door and had been banging the headboard all night with a man who claimed to be a straight male escort from Croydon. Right.
Not quite the festive morning I had imagined. Despite our prior agreement not to bring random men home—so we could enjoy a calm Christmas breakfast together—it had quickly descended into chaos.
I packed my rucksack, stepped over the bear, and went off to enjoy a solo breakfast on the seafront.
What had I been thinking?
Gran Canaria wasn’t even my idea. A travel company, pleased with a few articles I’d written, gifted me a flight and villa for Christmas. It was more of a studio apartment, really. They kindly offered a discounted flight for a guest, and before long, five people wanted in. Suddenly, I was playing travel agent, and everyone started bitching about each other. Stress had already set in before we’d even packed our bags.
Two days before departure, I sent out a group text with flight times, terminal info, and villa directions. I added that I’d be checking in solo and would see them either at the gate or on the flight.
Blake replied: “CONTROL FREAK. RELAX. I’LL BE THERE.”
Another couple pulled out, saying Blake had offended them. I didn’t have the energy to argue.
At Gatwick, I stood alone at the gate. Just as boarding began, Brian appeared, full of excuses. No sign of Blake—until mid-air, when I felt a strange sense of relief. Blake had spent the last few days moaning about Brian, only to suddenly announce: “Oh, I love Brian,” as he puffed a menthol cigarette. A week later, the arrangement of Brian and me sharing an apartment—with Blake next door—became another source of friction.
Welcome to Hell
Arriving in Gran Canaria, my jaw dropped. “Ye Olde Queen Vic” pub signs flashed before me. The apartment was basic but expected. That didn’t stop Brian from moaning. He couldn’t wait to hit the notorious Yumbo Centre in search of his first conquest. The only upside? It was a five-minute walk, saving us taxi fares.
Determined to make the best of it, we set out. En route, we saw a fight—and a man get stabbed. Charming.
The Yumbo Centre—a giant shopping mall by day, gay Mecca by night—was surreal. You’d hope to be inspired by loving couples.
“We’ve been together for 29 years and we’re totally faithful,” said a pair from Blackpool.
“Gosh, I hope I can say that one day,” I replied. “Although… why is your hand on my bottom?”
“Oh, we share people.” So much for romance.
The drinks were cheap, the sun was shining, and I told myself everything would be fine—if I made it back to the apartment alive.
Act Two, Scene One
Blake finally arrived, fresh from flying British Airways business class—and made sure everyone knew it. Still drunk, he boasted: “Darling, I had gear with me and did a line with the steward in the galley.” Pure fiction, but the crowd laughed.
Blake, who had travelled with me many times, was always a walking contradiction. With his Freddie Mercury moustache, even a blind dog could tell he was gay. Yet he’d hide his Spartacus Guide under a Jackie Collins novel and insist on getting out of cabs a few streets away from gay bars.
Now he and Brian were lounging like extras from Dynasty, wrapped in white towels and robes, trashing the accommodation. “Steven, we’re not complaining but… what were you thinking?” said Blake, dramatically.
I found them a new place—one that suited their tastes. They weren’t thrilled. Now half-naked and on their fourth glass of bubbly, Blake puffed on another menthol and quipped, “I’m sure I’ll grow fond of the pet cockroach in my room.”
Then he hugged me. “Darling, we want to be with you. That’s why we came.”
Thankfully, my ex and his partner arrived, bringing some much-needed sanity. I hired a car and explored Gran Canaria properly. The island is beautiful—surprisingly so. Even the Yumbo grew on me. As long as I left before Alexis and Krystal stirred from their beauty sleep, I could enjoy peaceful days and return for cocktails and Blake’s nightly one-man show.
Did I mention I met my dream guy there, too?
The Police Officer’s Boyfriend
He wasn’t single—his partner was head of LGBTQ+ liaison for the police. “We share,” he said. “Are you up for it?”
“You’re kidding! If he were mine, no one would be touching him but me.”
I may have added, “Shame on you. You’re supposed to set an example.”
No judgment—so long as it’s consensual and no one is exploited—it’s just not my bag.
We saw each other a few times back home. But what goes around comes around. He stayed with his partner.
Was it bad friend choices? Or just me, dreaming of a jolly gay Christmas and failing to plan the logistics?
Holiday Rules and Snorers
There are so many stories. Like the time I woke to a stranger in bed with me and my best friend. Or when someone “forgot” their stage name didn’t match their passport.
Then there’s Adam.
Ours was a mature friendship. We talked things through. A year in, he asked, “Fancy a holiday?”
Alarm bells. Holidays can make or break a friendship. But I liked Adam, and when he suggested a cruise down the Nile from Luxor, I was sold.
Adam warned me he snored—and wow, did he. I recorded it (he wasn’t thrilled), but it prompted him to finally address the issue. Snoring can ruin holidays; one of my friends recently had to sleep by the pool just to escape her partner’s decibels.
Egypt. Wow.
The Nile cruise was magical. A shaky start (our airport transfer never arrived), but even dashing through dark backstreets in a cab to find our boat, we laughed all the way.
Sitting in the Winter Palace Hotel in Luxor—home of Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile—Adam asked, “Shall we go see the sights?”
“Let’s just do Glamour’s Five-Star Hotel of the Nile for now,” I said.
We howled.
We discussed finances before the trip—essential. “It all comes out in the wash” was our motto. Sometimes one of us was more flush, and we’d cover each other. No awkwardness.
We all know the tightwad friend: the one who orders a starter and tap water, then helps themselves to the shared wine. But when it’s their round? Crickets.
Salmonella and Sensibility
Adam and I had many great adventures. He was the perfect pseudo-boyfriend. But eventually, someone else would come along. In Sitges, that’s exactly what happened.
We never planned for it—mistake. Sitting alone at dinner while he held hands with someone else wasn’t fun. We should’ve talked it through, as we usually did. Thankfully, it didn’t harm our friendship.
I can be a walking holiday disaster. Mosquitoes treat me like a buffet. I’ve caught Hepatitis B in India and salmonella in the Dominican Republic. But it never puts me off.
Because travel is freedom. And when shared with the right friend, it’s unforgettable. No matter how grown-up we are, caring for one another never goes out of fashion.
Have a great holiday season.
My Top 6 Tips for Travelling With a Friend:
- Talk first. Discuss your expectations for the trip.
- Be honest. Are you going for fun—or just to split costs?
- Acknowledge your quirks. Any snoring, early riser habits, etc.
- Talk about money. Set clear agreements in advance.
- Respect personal space. Holidaying together doesn’t mean joined at the hip.
- Look after each other. The best travel souvenir is a stronger friendship.
2Shades Magazine 