Joel Dommett: My worst holiday ever

Written by: Joel Dommett
Published: Wednesday 22nd February 2012

Stand-up comic Joel Dommett tells us about his worst holiday ever - a teenage trip to go snowboarding in the French Alps...

This is the story of my worst, most expensive, shortest holiday ever. An account involving the loss of important possessions, police, crying friends and finding out DHL cannot guarantee delivery of an important package to my mum by the next morning, causing me to hear her properly angry for the first time since I put mud in a letter box when I was 9...

The tale begins with my two friends Jamie and Craig doing a 'season' in the French Alps in 2005. I put the word season in inverted commas due to the fact they just drove there in the hope of someone offering them a job but in reality they ended up sleeping in their car (putting the heaters on every few hours to stave off hypothermia, but not too often due of lack of money for petrol) and breaking into unused apartments and living entirely on 'dry baguette'.

I thought I would go out and join them on their escapades but only for 2 weeks, as I had life plans beyond drinking every night till you no longer feel the cold and regularly sleeping on a snowy knoll. They were residing in and around the Tignes area and had been for 3 months, so I booked my cheap flights to Geneva (the closest airport) far in advance, to save my pennies. I bought a brand new snowboard that I had saved up for by working tirelessly selling 3510s at the Orange phone shop on Saturdays. The night before, I called Craig to tell them what time I was arriving so they could prepare the fun. Craig had been hard to get hold of, as answering the phone meant money drained on his credit, so when I finally got through after a week of trying I was looking forward to hearing what excitement they had in store for me the next day...

'Hey man... how's it going?' I said. This was met with: 'Ah Fuck... are you coming tomorrow??'. The day before they had managed to find a job in a tiny family resort called Puy St Vincent... far, far away. They were on there way there now. 'How far is that from Geneva?' I asked - as they were due to pick me up, this was my main concern. 'Maybe 7 hours?... but, dont worry, I reckon we will still be able to come get you... call me when you get in.'

In an attempt to seem carefree I agreed and set off to Bristol airport the next morning... I arrived in Geneva and called Craig as asked, and he said he was around 3 hours away 'so grab a baguette and chill'. I did so, fingering all the French magazines in the marchand de journaux, before he arrived three and a half hours later, pretending to be excited. Amazingly, we got straight back in the car and began the 7 hour journey back (of course taking the long route to avoid toll roads) and concluding Craig's 14 hour driving day. This was all on the day that Craig was supposed to start work as a Nanny but, due to friendship, had to ask for his first day off.

We arrived late and I slept on the floor in their room which apparently, when introduced to their manager the next day, was against company policy and I needed to find 'alternative arrangements immediately'. At this point the snowy knoll was looking like an option, but just as we were about to go on what was a pretty shitty first (and soon to be last) day snowboarding the manager called Craig and said that an Asian family had dropped out at the last minute and an apartment was available if I wanted it. I have no idea why they found it necessary to tell me they were Asian, but I assumed it was somehow important. It was a lot of money... but it was that or a car with small heating intervals so I said yes to the four bedroom family apartment for 2 weeks at a slice of the price it would usually be, but at a chunk more than I had anticipated for topping and tailing with Craig.

I got the keys and went out boarding. The day was cloudy and the snow was pretty rubbish. At one point we followed the lift down - for those unaware, this is how people go 'off piste' when they are too scared to go into the unknown but clearly unafraid of looking like a bell-end to the people ascending above them. The inevitable happened. I fell into a hole with a small river rushing below it. My snowboard was in the air and I really couldn't move. People on the chair lift above laughed their way up the mountain as I struggled my way out for about 30 minutes. Tired and defeated I returned to the village and the comfort of my Asian home. Although, when I got to the locker room to lock up my glistening new pride-and-joy snowboard, I realised my keys were missing... wait... my 100GB iPod was also missing... ahh fuck... they were clearly back in the river in the hole of embarrassment.

I was angry but I wasn't about to let this ruin my holiday, so I left my snowboard next to the locker (as it looked like a safe room) and got let into my apartment by my friend Jamie, who's glorious job was a cleaner (he refused to clean my room while I resided there), and we planned our incredible first (and last) night out. Jamie and Craig dined with the rest of the team, but I wasn't allowed to join them, so I met them later. They were so drunk it blew my mind. They had also lived in a car together for the last 3 months and tensions were at a peak. To give you a metaphor: I am the iPod stuck in a lonely hole watching them argue to the point of tears, then go home. I returned to my Maison d'asian.

I woke in the morning feeling optimistic that the holiday was to improve... I still had 12 days left. The optimism soon faded on the realisation that my new dream snowboard had indeed been stolen. BASTARDS! But the optimism still remained... I'll get a crime report, claim it on insurance, borrow one for the week and still enjoy my holiday, albeit sans snowboard and iPod and the keys to my small mansion. The nearest 'Gendarme' (pretty sure this isn't how you spell it, so I'll call them the 'Policio') was 30 minutes drive away in a bigger town but luckily the manager lady (I can't remember her name, but lets call her 'Disappointment') was driving there in an hour so I could get a lift.

Halfway on the trip to the Policio with Disappointment I was leafing through my passport/travel documents holder, which I had borrowed from my mum in an attempt to be more organised. I saw that my mum's passport was still in there. I had a look at the old school photo in the last few pages, as we all do when we find anyone's passport (this is an unwritten rule). Three minutes later I get a phone call from my mum. 'Speak of the devil' I thought... She simply said: 'Joel... have you got my passport?'. 'Yes', I said, 'what a coincidence, I was just looking at it!'

'Have you also got your Dad's passport?' she muttered on calmly. 'ummm... oohh YES!'. I, at this point, was excited about the prospect of looking at his photo. Then she said: 'Joel, have you also got our tickets for our holiday to the Maldives TOMORROW'. The fuck ball drops. Oh shit. I say 'Yes'. She states that I will need to get back to Bristol immediately as it's the most expensive holiday they have ever undertaken and, at this point, my shitty EasyJet endeavour to the Alps was obsolete.

The next hour was stressful. I ran to every courier firm I could find and they all said the same thing... 'Yes, we can get the passports back to Bristol for tomorrow morning. BUT we cannot guarantee it'. I was quickly realising I would have to travel with the documents and just fly home. So that's what I opted to do. I had no choice. I went to an internet cafe, booked a last minute expensive flight home for super early the next morning, got a crime report from the Policio for my stolen dream, then went back to ask Craig to give me a lift 7 hours back to Geneva (all the flights at closer airports were sold out). After 2 hours of crying in every room of my 15 room apartment, me and Craig got back in the car and he prepared for another 14 hour drive, only 2 days after he had previously done so, and after having asking for another day off work (that was 2 out of 4).

I got the important package home... but what I had left behind was a snowboard, a 100GB iPod, an empty-for-2-weeks family apartment, 28 hours of driving, and crying best friends.

BEST 2 DAY HOLIDAY EVER!

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