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Social media has forced a ferocious deluge of incessant vanity upon us all, which most of us are, y’know, more than happy to participate in ourselves. This is all well and good when it’s an even playing field, but when someone’s placed in a position to really go HAM on Insta’ / Facebook, your feelings can often get the better of you.
We’re of course referring to the emotional roller-coaster of grief that’s taken us all for a ride when our friends, frenemies and fam are documenting every single frivolity they’re up to while summering in Europe.
Yes, a big ol’ EAD to those of you who seem to be in a financial position to travel every year whilst simultaneously not having a job because you have enough time to travel EVERY GODDAMN YEAR?!
Walk with me, good person of the internet, as we revisit the turmoil of being stuck at home in the freezing cold when everyone we know is living large in the Euro Zone.
STAGE 1: DENIAL
Kevin, or Kev as he’s more commonly know as down at the footy club, lives and breathes ‘da boishhhhhh’. His career, relationships and finances revolve around his crew like an inflated-egoed Earth revolves around a ‘we’re-going-nowhere-with-our-lives’, pile-on group of lads who say, “damn, son” more frequently than they can sink a meat pie.
When a summer Euro trip was broached by the gents one night over frothies, Kev paid no heed to it. “You blokes can barely tie ya shoelaces let alone organise a trip, ay,” said Kev. In a similar fashion, however, to a biblical miracle, their ambitious banter began to form full-fledged plans and six months later they were off to London.
Kev, understandably devastated, blocked it all out. “They’re just all sick like that time Davo fed us off snags,” he’d tell himself. “They’ll be back tomorr-ah.”
But they didn’t, and Kev was forced to endure the tall-tales of the footy club’s elderly veterans for six weeks – never once accepting, or even acknowledging that he could also be having a “boonta time with the boys.”
STAGE 2: ANGER
“Oh, would you look at this crap. What are they, best friends or something? I, like, invented them you know?”
Bridget hadn’t stopped criticising her wider group of friends’ trip to Europe – at least, what was being presented of it to her via Instagram – since her and her boyfriend had gotten in the car for a Maccas run. Now in the drive-through, Bridget was almost at boiling point.
“Charlotte‘s changed, she would never post something like this at home,” she remarks passive aggressively.
“I dunno, babe. They just look like they’re having a good time, s’all,” her boyfriend timidly replies.
Bridget turned her head away from her phone to face him so slowly it looked as though she’d been instantaneously possessed by an ancient, demonic spirit.
“What?”
“It’s just a photo of them at dinner, babe. Just because she posted a photo of her food doesn’t mean she’s ‘changed’, surely?”
This point of reason was all it took to send Bridget off the deep end.
“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT SHIT. HOW DARE YOU? HUH? I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’D EVEN SAY THAT? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.”
The irrational verbal tirade continued for another 30 seconds before being interrupted by a timid voice asking, “can I take your order please?”.
STAGE 3: BARGAINING
Mike has been desperately flipping between Safari windows on the bus to uni for 30 minutes now. One window’s dedicated to hunting down last-minute flights, while the other serves to suss potential avenues of finance in lieu of proper savings. Why didn’t he just book tickets to Croatia with the rest of his mates when they were talking about it last year? Because Mike’s a dumbass.
The list of questions he asks himself seem endless. Is it worth throwing away half a semester for a trip? Will it be worth paying three times what everyone else has? Will I be able to pay everything back when I return? Why am I such a dumbass?
He begins to bargain, both with himself and the universe: if I do this, I’ll overload next semester to make sure I don’t fall behind at uni. I’ll work extra shifts to clear off the money. I’ll give up my left testicle if this pans out.
The stress becomes too much, and upon arriving at uni, he hops on the first bus back home. “I’ll watch the lecture tomorrow,” he lies to himself.
Mike doesn’t end up booking the trip because, as mentioned, Mike’s a dumbass.
STAGE 4: DEPRESSION
“Honey?” enquires Tash’s mum at her bedroom door.
“What?” Tash replies flatly, the sound of her voice slightly muffled.
Her mother opens her door and is hit by a wave of dead air. If tears had a smell, it’d be just that. Before her lies a lump that’s covered by a doona – only a tied-up mass of greasy hair is protruding.
“Come on, you’re being a bit melodramatic now,” she says as she peels back the layers of grease-stained blankets to reveal her daughters inflamed face.
“You don’t understand, mum,” Tash says as tears begin to fall down her cheeks.
“Okay, then help me understand. Why are you so upset?”
There’s a large gap of silence before Tash shifts herself upright in her bed, takes a deep breath of preparation and wipes the tears away.
“Okay, so there’s this guy I like called John. Like, it’s not as if I ‘like’ like him, but you, like, get the picture. Anyway, this girl Kim – no, not that Kim, mum, a different Kim – went over to Mykonos with Mel and crap. I’m, like, friends with her, but not like hell good friends with her, you know? I’ve just met her a few times because of Mel. Anyway, Kim and John used to be together – nothing serious, they ended because John hooked up with Kim’s friend at James‘ party – but, judging by everyone’s Snapchats, it’s back on. I’m, like, in a glass cage of emotion, mum. Firstly, I feel like I’m missing out on the trip of a lifetime because you and dad were too cheap to pay for it. Secondly, I’m, like, fucking pissed at Mel – my supposed ‘best friend’ – because she hasn’t put a stop to them hooking up and whatever. Lastly, John and I could’ve, like, fallen in love while watching the sunset on a Greek Island, mum, and now my life is over.”
Tash’s mother is speechless. She sits, staring at her daughter, wondering how this FOMO-suffering human is the fruit of her loins.
STAGE 5: ACCEPTANCE
Have we got a story for the final emotional stage for ya? Nope. Let’s cut the BS that’s leaving you perpetually um’ing and ah’ing.
Throw your damn-fine self into the frivolities of #EuroTrip17 by getting amongst Flight Centre – including utilising their partner tour groups Topdeck and Contiki – by heading HERE.
Photo: Bridesmaid.
