What’s the worst travel experience you’ve ever had?
Back in our college days, my friends and I decided to travel to a beautiful destination on our own. No tour operator, no travel agent, no sensible adult to supervise us. Just a group of college students armed with limited money, unlimited confidence, and absolutely no idea what we were doing.
One friend declared herself the official trip planner and booked the Airbnb that Lied . Another questioned every decision she made. The third was only interested in food, and the fourth kept saying, “Relax, guys. Everything will be fine.”
You know, the same friend who would later panic if we missed a bus by thirty seconds.
We booked a little studio advertised as “cozy, rustic, and full of character.”
The price was cheap, and we were students. We would have booked a cupboard if it came with free Wi-Fi.
Welcome to Our Five-Star Disaster.
The listing had fourteen photographs. Beautiful bed, pretty curtains, charming windows, but not one photograph of the bathroom.
Our trip planner assured us, “It must be perfectly fine.”
Of course. She had also assured us that we wouldn’t get lost.
The check-in instructions said, “The key sticks, but you’ll figure it out.”
Twenty minutes later, we were all standing outside, taking turns wrestling with the lock. One friend suggested pushing harder, another blamed the key, and the food-loving friend asked whether we could at least find somewhere to eat.
Finally, the door opened.
A mysterious smell greeted us.
One friend immediately announced, “I’m sleeping with the window open.”
Another replied, “Fine, but if anything flies in, you’re responsible!”
The bed was harder than our college principal’s heart. The shower offered two settings: Arctic and Lava. The Wi-Fi appeared occasionally, just long enough to raise our hopes before disappearing again.
And opposite the bed hung a painting of a rooster.
We named him Gerald.
One friend said he looked harmless. Another insisted he was watching us. By the second night, we were convinced Gerald knew all our secrets.
Then we discovered a note on the refrigerator:
“Please do not open the third drawer.”
Now, we could have behaved like sensible people.
But we were college students.
Naturally, we opened it.
Nothing.
We stared at the empty drawer. Our most dramatic friend whispered, “This is suspicious.”
Our practical friend said, “It’s an empty drawer. What’s suspicious about that?”
Then she opened it herself to check.
We laughed so hard that, for five minutes, we forgot the terrible bed, the strange smell, and Gerald’s disapproving face.
We finally complained to the host about everything. Four hours later, the reply arrived.
A thumbs-up emoji.👍
One friend wanted to send an angry paragraph. Another suggested asking for a refund. The third said, “At least he has acknowledged our existence!”
And the food-loving friend?
“Can we please stop discussing this and find dinner?”
Honestly, she had her priorities straight.
We returned home with tired bodies, questionable photographs, and enough material to tease one another for years.
Our trip planner was blamed for choosing the accommodation. The overconfident friend was reminded of her famous “everything will be fine” prediction. And Gerald the rooster became a permanent member of our college travel stories.
Looking back, the worst part wasn’t the bed, the shower, or even the mysterious drawer.
It was that we had trusted our own planning skills.
But that’s the magic of college friendships. You can argue over the smallest things, blame each other for the biggest disasters, and still laugh about them decades later.
We had gone looking for a memorable holiday. We found one-star accommodation, a suspicious drawer, and a rooster who judged our entire group.
And somehow, those ridiculous moments became the memories we treasured most.
Although, if Gerald ever appears in another holiday rental, I’m letting my friends book the hotel. 😂
“We travelled to explore the world but spent three days investigating an empty drawer and being bullied by a rooster!” 😂
