I think we can all agree that stepping off a plane and feeling the heat hitting you is one of the best things in the world.
Some people may disagree with this, but I can assure you that the British youth are not among them.
But it’s not the heat that’s hitting them – it’s the freedom.
I jetted off to Spain for my first holiday without my parents at the age of 16, and from the very first night out it was game over. I waved goodbye to any modicum of sense and civility, and I know I am not alone in this experience.
In all fairness, we never stood a chance at behaving. I place the blame on what I like to call “holiday air”.
Holiday air is a sickness. It results from inhaling excess amounts of the stuff and can have dire side-effects, such as overindulgence in alcohol, extreme sunburn, fatal hangovers, loss of friendships, bank-account damage and an inability to view the culture of your chosen destination.
I had scraped together all my money to book myself a plane ticket and a little spot on a campsite for just ten euros a night. In theory, you think, ‘Camping, great! A super cheap way to holiday.’
Realistically, following this line of thought of is how I ended up in 40-degree weather with the sun streaming through the tent, leaving me lying in a pool of sweat and making it impossible to sleep.
Escape from the heat was nowhere to be found, except on the floor of the grubby communal showers. (Those who have stayed in a campsite abroad can attest to this being a very un-classy affair.)
I saved up my money all year from my job as a lifeguard – hard to do with inconsistent shifts on a zero-hours contract. But I have no right to complain as I was paid a lot more than any of my peers. Certainly, a lot more than my friend Lexi, who was getting £6.40 an hour at her café job with a boss determined to make her cry at least twice a day.
However, I put up with the boredom of staring at a pool and cleaning up children’s sick, while Lexi threw herself a pity party every time she walked through those café doors.
We did this for one sole purpose… to fund our social life. And that social life consisted of going on holiday.
After scrounging all year, we had our plane tickets in one hand and our carry-on luggage with all our belongings in the other. We were boarding a 3am Ryanair flight to Spain and we couldn’t be more excited.
We were having our taste of freedom for the first time. No parents ringing. No curfew looming. No responsibilities. Just total freedom. And we’d be damned if we weren’t going to take full advantage of every second.
We had one problem though. We had no money.
A major issue, you may think. But for three 16-year-old girls, this was just a minor setback. The major setbacks came later as a result of this slight problem.
We walked ourselves to the local market and bought a five-litre bottle of water and three baguettes, intending to make this last the duration of our five-day trip. Sadly, this proved inadequate. We ran out of food on day four, and our only option was to fast until we landed back in England.
We fared better than three boys would have done in our shoes, as we did have the benefit of drinking for free. Local men were happy to buy us drinks and we were more than happy to accept (if we went to the bar with them and watched them poured, of course).
Anyway, we were achieving the main goal of the holiday – to have fun.
Waking up in the morning severely dehydrated was where the real problem occurred. The only option was to reach for the five-litre bottle of water we brought on the first day. The five-litre bottle that sat in the sun due to the lack of shade.
It had become a last resort. Only the truly desperate would take a sip from the bottle. I had heat stroke by day three.
I spent my days stuffing tampons up my nose – a brilliant solution to nosebleeds, though I did get a few strange looks from the campsite’s other residents. Then I spent my evenings not allowed to move more than a metre away from either friend at a time, so they could grab me when I fainted. There would be no affording the hospital if I hit my head.
This, I admit, was a major setback. Once I was back into the safety of my home, I stayed in bed for four days.
So, while I could afford to go on holiday, I couldn’t afford to be on holiday. I know this is a common experience for many, but for those of you who have a trip coming up, I urge you to manage your money better than me.
And beware the holiday air.
Kathleen Sparrow is a Year 12 student and Money Marketing work experience
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