Sometimes you book a trip because you’ve always dreamed of walking along a specific city’s streets. Sometimes you book a trip because all you want to do is relax by the sea. Sometimes you book a trip because you’re ready to party the night away.
And sometimes you book a trip because you’re petty AF. This is why I’m going to Belize come January. For a country that I’ve never set foot in, I have a surprisingly tumultuous history with the Central American nation. It’s time to set that right and I do believe I will do so with my 10-day getaway. I’m sure Belize is worth visiting for its own specific reasons, but this is why this trip will feel like the most immature of vindications.
I get to flaunt my flashy new passport.
I tried to fly to Belize back in 2007 with my Peruvian passport, only to be told by airport authorities that I required a visa. That wasn’t actually correct information but, since their computers had failed to update the latest visa agreements between Peru and Belize, there was no way they were going to take my word for it. This time, I have TWO passports granting me entry.
I won’t have to deal with my ex, or any ex, for that matter.
That ill-fated Belize trip was supposed to be my first big trip abroad with my ex. Alas, destiny had other plans. Those plans included breaking up and realizing that I’m at my happiest when I don’t have to deal with a severely dysfunctional dynamic. I might, I don’t know, even get to relax without the shadow of toxic masculinity ruining my sunshine.
It will provide a temporary sense of comfort if everything in my life goes down the toilet.
I have to say, things are looking pretty good for me right now. I have a day job I like, I’m excited about all my side projects, my social life has awoken from its deep slumber, my bulldog continues to be the cutest creature alive, I got a rad Batgirl sweater at H&M. This is precisely the moment when a huge emotional asteroid is likely to crash into me, to remind me that I’m but an insignificant speck in this vast universe and should never get complacent. In order to beat karma at its own game, I’ve planned a trip. In case I need something to look forward to when The Worst comes hurling at me without warning.
My beautiful olive skin looks amazing tanned.
And I can pull off colors like peach, yellow and emerald in ways that will make my Instagram pics super annoying.
Chicago winter can suck it.
If you can’t beat it, then leave the goddamn city. Living my best life no longer includes making the best of sub-zero temperatures. There is no upside to winter. I want out.
Don’t care what society says, I’m living my 30s as if they are my 20s.
Y’all can keep your mortgages, playdates, sensible shoes, Whole 30 diets, and balding men. My goals are now limited to boozy cocktails, inappropriate, and crappy reggae music at some godforsaken beachside bar.
Have tips on how to make this trip to Belize even pettier? Send them my way!
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