The Reluctant Adventurers’ Rules of Travel

Bohemian. Flower child. Free-spirited globetrotter. If you’re one of these, this is not for you

Image credit: Our OC

But if you’re anything like us: hypervigilant doomsday planners that for some inexplicable reason still like to travel, you might want to take note.

Look up local 911 numbers.

Our Optimistic Companion, or OC, says, Why can’t you two be more optimistic?

Carry a universal travel adapter.

So that when you enter your hotel room and see some outlandish array of socket holes, you’re not thinking, What fresh hell is this?

Pack extras into your handbag.

You think it won’t happen to you. Until you’re standing in the middle of an airport in Istanbul, trying to report your no-show bag with flailing, nonsensical gestures to the astonished man behind the counter.

Carry snacks.

Hypoglycemic rage is real.

Carry hand sanitiser.

And while you’re at it, carry tissues and wipes — for those public toilets stripped down to that brown cylinder of doom. Sometimes it won’t be quite bare; the universe will taunt you with a final clinging scrap.

And carry a could-be weapon on your person.

A nail file. A lead pencil. Doesn’t hurt to be armed — our OC is even more unimpressed. You’ll probably end up stabbing yourselves, she says.

Your friend’s motion sickness is your motion sickness.

So for heaven’s sake carry motion sickness pills.

If it’s not your thing, don’t haggle.

Or you might meet an old Georgian man at a flea market on a bridge, and he'll put a curse on you.

If it’s not your thing, don’t get on a chairlift.

And if you do (because your OC talked you into it), don’t look down.

Beware of overbooked flights.

Still a thing. The airline will try to offload you. Sometimes marching in their direction like a charging battle elephant might make them reconsider.

Expect the worst.

It’s not your first rodeo. You know better.