Aren’t Vacations Supposed To Be Relaxing?

I’m a woman of colour in my twenties. I’ve been forced to travel with my parents to a small island in the UK. Given some residents haven’t even met anyone of colour before, we really stand out here.

Despite being well-educated and having to deal with unreasonable people at work, my parents are rather entitled themselves. They are not confident English speakers, so they always make me do the talking during the trip. I’ve just ordered for us at the restaurant, which has a full house. Dad’s bottle of beer arrives. After half a minute or so:

Dad: “This is not the brand I wanted.”

Me: “Hmmm… The bottle has been open on our table for a while now. If we return it now, they can’t serve it to others and I’m afraid it’ll just go to waste. Since you aren’t familiar with the brands and simply randomly picked this off the menu, and all of them are the same price… perhaps you could try it this time?”

Dad: “But this is not the brand I wanted!”

Me: “Do you only want to try that original brand?”

Dad: “No! But the waitress needs to know she’s made a mistake.”

Me: “They are clearly understaffed, and the poor girl seems overwhelmed… and as I’ve said, even if this was someone else’s order, she can’t give it to them now. If we insist on changing the drink, her boss might make her pay out of her own pocket.”

Dad: “No, but she has to know she was wrong!”

Dad shakes his head and smirks in disapproval of my “naivety”.

Dad: “It’s essential that we point out people’s faults. This way, they owe us a favour and we can use it to our advantage in the future.” *Grinds his teeth* “Do you understand?!”

I am totally appalled and disgusted by his “wisdom”. Thank goodness he is too nervous to say anything in English when the waitress brings our food.

During the meal, Dad slurps his soup while Mum chews loudly. Both of them bite food off their forks. These may be acceptable in our own culture, but no, no, not here.

I try not to show my embarrassment.

Me: “It’s customary to cut the food on the plate first and enjoy it with a closed mouth.”

I demonstrate. Mum doesn’t even look and just continues her ways.

Mum: “What are you trying to say now?!”

I just sigh.

Later, we go back to the cozy, rustic hotel. My washed clothes in the laundromat couldn’t get spun, so I wring them by hand in our suite.

Dad: “Are you out of your mind? If there’s a problem with the washing machine, you should report it to the reception straightaway!”

My mum joins in the snickering.

Me: “Yes, I normally would, but it’s already 10:00 pm. They’ve been closed since 8:30 pm and there’s a sign that says to call them if there’s an emergency.”

Dad: “Then call them!”

Me: “Hmmm… I’m not sure if the washing machine not spinning is considered life-threatening. I can wait until the morning to tell them.”

Dad: “We’re paying customers! It’s their job to solve the problem!”

Me: “This is just a family-run hotel in a tiny sleepy village, not a starred place in the city. I don’t want to wake anybody up.”

Dad: “But no! If you’ve paid, why should you get anything less than that?! How hard is it to just pick up the phone?!”

I reply in a neutral tone, but I’m shaking in fear.

Me: “If the washing machine is on fire or if it is flooding the place, then yes, of course, I will call them. Honestly, it’s fine. I have plenty of other clothes to wear.”

Dad starts kicking and throwing things across the room as expected.

Dad: “WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO TALK BACK?! I don’t get why you always belittle yourself and let others walk over you!”

Luckily, he didn’t complain the next day. I’d hate to be known as “THOSE tourists”.