The idea. This is where it all starts. Whether born on a drunk night out or as a result of being invited somewhere, this is where the magic begins...
Trying to save all of your money for the weeks leading up to the big holiday.
No one fears not having enough money more than an Irish couple.
Going on a healthy eating binge to look your best which lasts until about Monday at 11am.
We started at 10am. On the same day.
Pretending to be really really busy on your last day of work but all you can think is holiday holiday holiday holiday
Going to the credit union and taking out every cent of savings you have while avoiding the judgmental stare of Angela behind the counter hoping she won't mention this to your mum.
The packing: expectation- 'I'm so bloody organised I love going on holidays, I'll fold all my clothes neatly like this...'
The reality- 'I BLOODY HATE PACKING SO MUCH I HATE ALL MY CLOTHES WHY IS THIS SUITCASE SO SMALL AND WHY ARE MY SHOES SO AWKWARD!!!!!'
7- how did I end up with 5 bags? How are two of these just make up? *questions life*
8- the journey to the holiday. Always bloody awful. You're sweating in your summery clothes, your already fighting with your other half and WHY DO I HAVE SO MANY BAGS?!
9- €16 for a single ticket to Cork????!!
10- do ye take student cards?
11- arriving at the location: expectation- Being whisked to your luxury suite by a butler holding a tray of champagne,
Reality - dragging your 20 million bags in sweaty heat in to the hotel and being greeted by a chocolate covered child who insists on dancing around you... WHERE ARE HIS PARENTS?!
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