Less is more in recounting one's vacation

by Beth Teitell
Wednesday, July 10, 2002

People complain that work is stressful, but that's nothing compared with a vacation. Or rather, returning from a vacation, because once you get back you have an important decision to make: How are you going to spin your trip?

Was it the perfect getaway, an orgy of sunset views, three-pound lobsters and bargains so cheap they were practically giving the Prada away? Or do you go negative/jokey, and paint a picture of water-borne illnesses, nonstop family bickering, flight delays?

As any performer knows - and what is the returning vacationer if not the star of her own one-person play? - you have only a small window of opportunity, during which time you either win or lose your audience, and forever fix an impression of you in their minds.

With so much riding on a vacation - or, more accurately, its recounting - I was a bundle of nerves on the flight home from Paris. And I wasn't worrying about terrorists, or even the rumor sweeping the back of the plane that they had run out of salmon, and after six hours of starvation, all we would be getting was salted salt, with a salt salad on the side.

No, I was thinking about how I was going to account for the fact that I hadn't, ah, seen much art.

Usually when I get home from vacation my first stop is the scale, but this time I called a friend who's in marketing. She heard the panic in my voice.

``OK, tell me what you actually did do and we'll go from there,'' she said. ``I'm sure we'll have something we can work with.''

I was tempted to embellish, but then I remembered the lesson learned from all those cop and medical dramas: It's dumb to lie to the person who's trying to help you, like a lawyer or a doctor, or, in my case, a vacation-presentation coach.

``I went to one museum,'' I began. I started to offer my excuses - I was traveling with two children under age 2, I reminded her, and they didn't understand the importance of culture and . . .

She cut me off. ``No one will care about that. It sounds like you're making excuses.''

She suggested I play to my strengths. ``Just say you `went Parisian,' '' she advised, ``and talk about all the cafes you sat in and how you read while the kids napped. People will assume you saw art. Who would go to Paris and not?''

Uhhhh, me.

``It's all in the positioning,'' another friend added. It was wisdom she'd learned the hard way, after a week-long trip to the mountains was marred by rain.

Oh, excuse, me, it was not marred. It was enhanced. ``I presented the trip as a great opportunity to do crafts,'' my friend reminded me.

``You should talk about how much exercise you got pushing the double stroller,'' she said. ``And you could play up the hot chocolate you had. That's very French.''

So, how was my trip to Paris?

I'm sorry, but on the advice of counsel I'm not talking about it.