It was supposed to be peace, a personal quest,
Just me, my playlist, and some well-earned rest.
But fate packed mischief inside my bag—
and left my joy with a customs tag.

The hotel? A "vintage gem" they said—
with peeling walls and a bug in my bed.
The faucet spit like an angry snake,
and the toilet sang opera with every break.

I planned to unwind with beach and breeze,
instead got sunburns down to my knees.
Forgot to flip—so one side fried,
the other stayed pale while my ego died.

Dinner was noodles, fiery and wild—
I wept like an emotional child.
Waiter winked, "Mild spice, ma'am."
Lied through his teeth like a traffic jam.

Came home with stories, not souvenirs,
a peeling nose, and ringing ears.
People ask, “You had fun, I bet?”
I smile and say, "Haven't recovered yet".
So cheers to the holiday that went all wrong—
now it lives in jokes and family song.
And when someone asks, “Ready to go away?”
I fake a cough… and quietly slink the other way.