The Mishaps of Marmaris

15 May

I left London for the wedding.

There, I said it. Get all of your gasps and screams of terror out of your system now, ok? Let me explain the rationale behind this decision: The weekend prior to the wedding was already a four-day weekend, due to Bank holidays, and the following Monday was the May Bank holiday, so when Will and Kate declared their wedding day the 29th, BOOM! Two four-day weekends in a row were born. Ergo, one could request the three weekdays off in between these two weekends, and get an 11-day holiday. Comprende?

And so I took those days off, along with Kate, Kenny, Dan, Matt, Kendra and Sarah, and we took our pale, American asses to Marmaris, Turkey for a 5-night, 6-day, all-inclusive Turkish holiday.

For those of you geographically impaired

I could and should start by discussing how beautiful the Turkish coast is, how blue the Aegean sea was, or how much fun I had with my wonderful Mountbatten friends, but all of that takes a backseat to the most important, the most beautiful, thing that Turkey gave me: my tan.

Honestly, I know how sick you have all been of me hearing me bitch and moan about the color of my skin, so congratulations! You no longer have to hear about it. The stars are once more aligned, the earth is spinning properly on its axis, and all balance is restored. Yes, I know I have a problem and I’ll consider seeking help once I return home.

Now that this is on the table, let me get back to my holiday. As you may imagine, majority of the time was spent lounging in the sun with drink in one hand, err, both hands, but there were  a few other events and mishaps that are worth mentioning.

Mishap #1 – The Sword

On our second night in Marmaris, the entertainment team at our resort offered to take anyone who was game into the city for a night out. Kind of like a chaperone, if you will, to help us navigate the busy Bar St.  I’d say there was a group of about 20 of us heading out from the hotel in total. We hopped around from place to place, danced on a few bars…


and finally figured we would call it a night around 3am. As we all gathered outside one of the bars, about to head on the bus home, we hear a shout coming from 100 yards away. Then another shout.  And before we knew it, a fight had broken out among some locals. Oh, DeenaPro, this is one of those times you should stop reading, please. Anyway, the fight was far enough away where no one was that concerned. It was only after a man darted around the corner wielding…wait for it…a SWORD, that some internal alarms started going off. Honestly, I am no expert in acts of physical violence, but for any of you that are, consider yourself warned: Swords seem to be the norm in Marmaris, Turkey. After the sword man (as he shall henceforth be named) disappeared around the corner, we were efficiently herded to our bus and headed back to the resort with everyone’s limbs in tact. Honestly, I know I shouldn’t joke about this because it really could have been a dangerous situation, but, honestly, what is this? Aladdin? Zorro? Really?

Mishap #2 – The Elevator

You’d think our run in with the Prince of Arabia was enough excitement for one night. Not so. We arrived back at the hotel around 3:30am and Kate, Sarah, Kendra, Matt and I headed to our rooms, along with three of the other hotel guests that had been out with us. In our tired stupor, we had the brilliant idea to pile all eight of us into an elevator about the size of a port-a-potty. Curse you, alcohol, and your ability to make terrible ideas seem logical. As the doors closed, a MURRRR noise sprung up, which should have been a massive clue that we had about five too many  people in the lift.  Sadly, logic did not set in, and after about 8 seconds of ascension, the lift came to screeching halt. #Winning.

After this sudden stop, we all kind of looked at each other with a collective ‘WTF’ look across our faces. Like, this doesn’t actually happen in real life, right? Yeah, well, apparently it does. First, we tried pressing random elevators buttons. Didn’t work. Then, we pressed the alarm button. Didn’t work. At this point, one of the boys said, “I wonder how long we will be stuck in here! I hope there is enough oxygen for all of us!” It was at this statement that I started, for lack of a better term, freaking out. Thankfully, Kate, in all her brilliance, picked up the phone that was next to the buttons and dialed the number that was on a sticker on it. This is what the conversation sounded like:

Kate: Hello? We are stuck in the elevator!

Kate: Hello?!

Kate: Can you hear me?

Kate: Hello?!


While this was going on, I very quietly turned myself towards the corner and pressed my head against the wall. I’m not usually one who takes issue with claustrophobia, but that goddamn oxygen comment was seriously freaking me out. Honestly, the thoughts going through my head at the time were akin to scenes from the Saw movies. I know, I know. I’m super dramatic. You knew this.

Anyway, after about 30 minutes of the most bizarre ideas penetrating my mind (eating my dress, peeing in my purse) we were rescued by two Turkish workmen that were less than pleased that eight moronic 20-somethings decided to pull these shenanigans at 4am. Not wanting to stick around and be cursed at in Turkish, Kate and I quickly jumped out of the pried-open doors, and raced up to the stairs to our room, leaving everyone in a cloud of dust. It might behoove you to know that I did not step foot in the elevator the rest of the trip, and I’m fairly sure Kate still has yet to get in one.

Let this be a lesson to all: If you ever need to sober up quickly, get stuck in an elevator. I promise there is nothing that will be more effective.

In conclusion, I have to admit that my week in Marmaris was worth missing the madness that London became for the royal nuptials. I’ll be returning to Turkey in just two weeks, but fear not, DeenaPro. I’ll keep a sharp eye out for swords and suspiciously constructed elevators.



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