All-Inclusive Doesn’t Mean All-Inclusive Anymore, Apparently

Once upon a time, the words all-inclusive were wonderfully reassuring.

You booked your holiday, packed your suitcase, arrived at the hotel, acquired a plastic wristband and spent the next seven days eating, drinking and occasionally wondering whether a fourth trip to the buffet was socially acceptable.

Simple.

These days? I’m beginning to think we need a bloody flowchart.

Because somewhere along the way, all-inclusive seems to have developed more variations than a Starbucks coffee order.

Standard all-inclusive. Premium all-inclusive. Ultra all-inclusive. All-inclusive Plus. All-inclusive with selected beverages. All-inclusive except for certain restaurants, certain drinks, certain times and apparently anything you might actually fancy.

I’m not entirely sure when the word all became negotiable, but I’d quite like to speak to whoever authorised it.

Photo by Abhinav Sharma on Pexels

The IKEA Beaker Incident

I’ve personally stayed in an all-inclusive hotel where drinking water wasn’t included.

Yes. Water.

Not champagne. Not imported spirits. Not freshly squeezed juice from a rare tropical fruit.

WATER.

If you wanted drinking water, you had to purchase it from a vending machine.

Meanwhile, the alcohol was served in IKEA-style plastic beakers.

You were allowed two drinks at a time, and before they’d serve you another, you had to physically return your previous beaker.

I appreciate that hotels need to manage waste and keep pool areas safe. Sensible precautions are one thing.

But there is something deeply humbling about paying for an all-inclusive holiday and finding yourself negotiating the return of a plastic cup like you’re borrowing a trolley at Asda.

I wasn’t asking to take the beaker home. I just wanted another vodka without participating in a hostage exchange.

At that point, I wasn’t entirely sure whether I’d booked a holiday or accidentally enrolled in a school residential trip.

All-inclusive. Except hydration. And apparently ownership of the beaker.

The Premium Spirits Situation

Now, I’m not suggesting that booking a reasonably priced week in Turkey should entitle me to unlimited vintage champagne and a personal sommelier called Sebastian.

I’m a reasonable woman.

But I do find it fascinating when a hotel advertises all-inclusive drinks and then presents you with a drinks menu resembling a financial agreement.

Local vodka? Included.

Vodka you’ve actually heard of? Additional charge.

Cocktail of the day? Included.

The cocktail you’d quite like? That’ll be €8.

And don’t even get me started on the premium all-inclusive packages.

Apparently, the word all has now been divided into categories, and your wristband determines which version of reality you’re allowed to experience.

I’m not opposed to paying extra for genuinely premium drinks.

I’d just appreciate knowing before I arrive that the margarita I’ve been fantasising about since February is going to require a small personal loan.

The Airline VIP Wristband Olympics

And can we talk about hotels that offer different all-inclusive privileges depending on which tour operator you’ve booked through?

Same hotel. Same swimming pool. Same sunshine.

But apparently, because somebody arrived on a different airline as part of their package, they have access to an exclusive bar.

Oh, I’m sorry.

I didn’t realise my choice of aircraft determined my social standing once I’d landed.

Do the cocktails taste better because the plane had a different logo on its tail?

Is the ice more exclusive?

Does the bartender whisper, “Welcome, chosen one” as you approach?

Now, to be fair, these arrangements are usually about the tour operator’s particular package or agreement with the hotel rather than the aircraft itself.

And if you’ve paid for additional privileges, fair enough.

But when two people are staying at the same hotel on supposedly all-inclusive holidays, and one gets access to a mysterious superior drinking establishment, I do start to question the definition of the word inclusive.

Apparently, even on holiday, we’re not all inclusive enough to be included.

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The À La Carte Treasure Hunt

Ah yes. The hotel boasts six restaurants.

SIX!

You picture yourself enjoying a different dining experience every evening, perhaps a little Italian one night, Asian the next, something romantic overlooking the sea.

Lovely.

Except three of them carry supplements.

One is included once per stay.

Another requires a reservation through an app that has apparently been designed by somebody who hates people.

And the sixth is only open on Wednesdays, weather permitting, during a full moon.

Suddenly, your six-restaurant resort has become a buffet with five decorative alternatives.

Again, there’s nothing inherently wrong with charging for specialist dining.

But there’s a significant difference between six restaurants available and six restaurants included.

And I’d rather know which one I’m booking.

The Snack Bar That Isn’t Snacking

I have questions about hotel snack bars.

Specifically, why some of them only operate during the exact hours that the main restaurant is open.

Breakfast finishes at 10am.

Lunch begins at 12.30pm.

Snack bar opens at 12pm and closes at 2pm.

Brilliant.

So if somebody fancies something at 4pm, they’re apparently expected to forage.

And then there are the ice creams.

Included at one bar. Chargeable at another. Available between 2pm and 4pm unless it’s Tuesday, when the freezer is apparently observing a religious holiday.

I don’t expect a hotel to operate a 24-hour personal catering service.

But if the brochure promises snacks throughout the day, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect an actual snack to materialise at some point during the day.

Photo by Mediha Ekici on Pexels

The Great Wristband Hierarchy

Standard.

Premium.

Ultra.

VIP.

Diamond.

Platinum.

At this point, I’m waiting for a hotel to introduce All-Inclusive Supreme Emperor.

Your wristband colour determines your drinks, restaurants, facilities, and possibly your position in the social hierarchy.

Blue wristband? Local spirits.

Gold wristband? Imported spirits.

Black wristband? Congratulations, you’ve unlocked the secret bar behind the waterfall.

It’s like a video game, except you’ve paid thousands of pounds to participate and nobody explained the rules.

And while upgrades can be absolutely worthwhile, the important thing is understanding what you’re getting for your money

.

Because paying extra for a genuinely better experience is one thing.

Discovering your original package was missing half the things you assumed were included is quite another.

Right, So What SHOULD All-Inclusive Include?

Here’s the slightly less unhinged bit.

There is no single universal definition of all-inclusive.

Different hotels and tour operators include different things. Even packages at the same hotel can vary depending on who you book with.

Before booking, it’s worth checking:

• Which restaurants are included, how often you can use them and whether reservations are required.
• Which drinks are included, whether branded spirits cost extra and what time bar service ends.
• Whether bottled or other drinking water is included, and where you can get it.
• Whether snacks and ice creams are available outside main meal times.
• Whether waterparks, activities and entertainment have additional charges or restricted hours.
• Whether your tour operator offers exclusive facilities or upgraded benefits.

And if you’re arriving late, check what food and drinks will actually be available when you get there.

Because discovering the limitations of your all-inclusive package at midnight is not the sort of holiday surprise anybody needs.

A Final Word From Someone Who Reads the Small Print for Sport

I genuinely love a good all-inclusive holiday.

There’s something wonderful about arriving at a resort, unpacking once and knowing that most of your holiday spending is already taken care of.

For families especially, that predictability can be brilliant.

And I’m certainly not suggesting that every all-inclusive hotel should offer unlimited champagne, lobster, premium spirits and a personal butler for £499 per person.

I’m simply suggesting that if you’re going to advertise something as all-inclusive, perhaps make it abundantly clear which bits of all you’ve decided to exclude.

Because I don’t mind paying for extras.

I mind finding out they’re extras after I’ve arrived.

And if I ever have to return an IKEA beaker to secure another vodka, I would at least appreciate the option of collecting loyalty points.

All-inclusive. Some exclusions may include the all.

Gerrie ♡

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