The Ultimate All-Inclusive Survival Guide
How to Boss the Buffet, Win the Sunbed Wars and Drink Your Bodyweight in Blue Slush Without Crying
You’ve booked an all-inclusive. Congrats. You’re now entering a beautiful lawless land where calories don’t count, pool floaties are currency, and every man named Steve becomes your new best mate by Day 2.
But before you get sunburned in the shape of your flip-flops, read this. It’s your survival guide. Your Bible. Your roadmap to living your absolute best wristband life without ending up in the resort Facebook group with a warning post about “that British couple.”
1. Respect the Wristband
That little plastic band is now your entire personality. It opens doors. It unlocks drinks. It lets you claim three plates of food without judgment. Lose it and you’re basically a feral outsider eating napkins and begging for Fanta. Guard it with your life.
2. The Sunbed Wars Are Real
This is not a joke. This is Gladiator. But with towels.
You want shade? You want prime position near the swim-up bar? You better be out there at 6am, towel in hand, slippers on, scanning the battlefield like David Attenborough in shorts. One grandma from Essex will take you out with a pool noodle if you try and move her lilo.
3. Buffet: Know The Peak Hours
The buffet is a tactical mission. You’ve got a five-minute window where the chips are hot, the prawns haven’t sweated into a single seafood lump, and the watermelon still looks vaguely like fruit.
After that you’re just eating lukewarm regret with a side of dodgy mayonnaise.
Pro tip: never trust a buffet sausage that’s both shiny and grey. That’s not food. That’s a warning.
4. Drink Smart or Cry Later
Yes, the cocktails are free. No, they are not all created equal.
That blue thing with the umbrella? Delicious. Also 97 percent sugar and guaranteed to have you FaceTiming your ex from the beach bar within two hours.
Mix it up. Slip a glass of water in every now and then. No one will know. Call it a “clear mojito” and carry on.
Also, tequila shots poured from a jug by a man in a cowboy hat should never be trusted. You’ll wake up speaking fluent regret.
5. Make Friends With the Right Staff
You don’t need to befriend the whole entertainment team. Just one key player. One barman. One front desk legend. One kitchen auntie who slips you the fresh pancakes.
Smile. Tip early. Pretend to speak three words of the local language. Boom. You’re getting double measures and your air con fixed before the rest of the hotel even knows it’s broken.
6. Snack Like a Champion
All-inclusive snacks are a gamble. One day it’s tacos. The next it’s a sad ham sandwich that tastes like it was left in the sun in 2004.
Come prepared. Pack snacks like you’re on an expedition to the Arctic. Crisps. Sweets. Biscuits. That one weird protein bar you panic bought at the airport. There will be a night when the buffet fails you and only a bag of Wotsits can save you.
7. Don’t Get Talked Into “Cultural” Excursions
They’ll offer you a “local tour” that involves 3 hours on a sweaty bus, a jewellery shop run by a bloke’s cousin, and a weird animal encounter you didn’t ask for.
Unless you really want to pay £60 to take a photo with a sleepy iguana named Kevin, stay at the pool and order another suspiciously neon cocktail. Culture will still be there next week.
8. Prepare for Chaos. Embrace It
Someone’s kid is going to vomit in the splash pool. A man will absolutely wear Union Jack swimming trunks all week and call every staff member "mate." There will be karaoke. You will hear someone shout “This one’s for Sandra” before butchering Angels by Robbie Williams.
Accept it. Become one with the chaos. You are Sandra now.
Final Words From Mr Jones
All-inclusive holidays are not about class. They’re not about culture. They’re about complete emotional surrender to the wild beauty of unlimited drinks and daytime quizzes hosted by a guy in sunglasses named Marco.
Play it right and you’ll return home with 400 blurry pool selfies, three new WhatsApp groups you’ll never use again, and a tan that’s mostly even.
Now get out there. Own the buffet. Rule the sunbeds. Wear that wristband like royalty.
You’re on holiday, baby.