Not interested
I really like travel magazines. I subscribe to Condé Nast Traveler and Budget Travel. I also regularly pick up other pubs at the news stand. During the winter months these magazines all go bug-eyed for tropical locales. Specifically islands. And I don't get it.
I mean, I get why someone spending months in the tundra of, say, Minnesota would want to hie him or herself to a sunny beach. (Though that's not a place I would ever go near. I grew up in Florida, so I abhor the beach.) But, why the fixation on islands?
Reading through a random article, here are some of the wonderfully fun things to do on your vacation: Spend a night in a thatched hut on the beach. Cavort with gigantic robber crabs and other sea life. Find a tree with coconuts, then knock one down, crack it open and enjoy the raw milk.
Why would I ever want to do these things? I'd sooner make a list of ideas that represent a waste of vacation time--and put those three near the top.
Trust me, that thatched hut is not going to keep out wind, rain, or bugs. Those crabs don't want you around, and they will claw your toes to prove that point. I have tasted fresh coconut milk--it is not worth even half the effort that will go into trying to split that damn shell.
In the same article--I kid you not--the author describes tossing pebbles and watching them skim along the water in the shallow reefs. So apparently the activity you did as a child when you were completely bored is, on an island, a greatly fun entertainment.
I guess those rocks are made all the more zippy when you realize this is something you get to "enjoy" not far from your $1,000-a-night island suite.
How suite that is? I don't wanna know.
I resent travel magazines. My shrink has them spread out on the waiting room coffee table and it makes me feel like she is going to jet off to some exotic locale. For some reason this aggravates me. Probably something to do with my mother.
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