All Included

At the idealized age of 22 I first encountered an experience that would change my life: All Inclusive Resorts

Oh my goodness gracious how I love all inclusive.  I'm not even talking about what thosewho indulge in the never-ending alcohol flow love about them.  Overall, there is so much to be all included.

Included are the mini-bars, full of drinks and coated peanuts and Bigga Orange when in Jamaica.

Included is the all important decision of Beach? or Pool? every morning and after every lunch

Included is the disappearance of meal time in favor of constant snacking and/or gorging at any hour of the day

Included is guacamole everywhere, with no $2 charge like at Chipotle

Included is the right to sleep in, and yet the desire to wake up and bathe in the ocean, drip dry in a hammock, and repeat

Included is that moment when you look at the person you're with and wonder if you're waking from a nap, or if you've magically landed in heaven and if you'll ever have to leave

(ok, correction, that wasn't included in my 22-year old trip - just the ones with J-Man)

But also included is that sad feeling at the end, when you know you're about to sit in a grossly overpriced airport, fight through customs, and arrive back home to everything you left behind.  Everything that seemed tolerable before you were educated on just how beautiful that particular part of the world could be.

Don't worry, don't worry, no complaints here.  I'm happy as a lark and still floating on all sorts of vacation highs.  After all, I swam in a cave, snorkeled with sea turtles and sting rays, watched my J-Man dominate at horseshoes and volleyball, and certainly forgot about the biggest woes I've had for a while.

Now it's time to go back to saving up for all the big goals that hopefully are right around the corner...