A Private Island? I’m Going — Just Keep the Drama Away From Me!

Listen, if somebody invited me to a private island, I’m not about to sit at home acting brand-new.

“Who owns the island?”

“Who else is going?”

“Is their family going to be there?”

Baby, I don’t care if your auntie, cousin, ex-husband, hairdresser and your third-grade teacher own shares in the island. My first questions are simple:

Is it safe? Is there food? And are we going to have FUN?

Because if the answer is yes, start packing my bag.

Now, would I go to a private island with some of these ladies from The Real Housewives of New York City?

Absolutely NOT.

I would rather stay home with a frozen pizza and watch everybody else argue from the safety of my television.

I’m Going on Vacation, Not Reporting for Work

That is what people seem to forget.

When I go on vacation, I am trying to get AWAY from stress. I already know what it's like dealing with personalities at work. You have customers with attitudes, coworkers who woke up angry, employees who don't want to do anything and supervisors walking around like they're auditioning for The Devil Wears Prada.

I've already put in my hours!

So why would I spend money, pack a suitcase, get on an airplane, travel across the ocean and arrive on a beautiful private island just to argue with somebody over what they said about me at dinner three months ago?

NO!

I didn't travel all this way for a performance review.

Pass me the cocktail.

And That's My Problem With These Housewives Trips

These women can be standing in paradise and STILL find something to argue about.

The ocean is beautiful.

The food is beautiful.

The villa is beautiful.

The weather is beautiful.

Everybody has a gorgeous bedroom.

And somebody is sitting at breakfast saying:

“Can we talk about what you said last night?”

NO, WE CANNOT!

Can we talk about these pancakes?

Can we talk about what time we're going swimming?

Can we discuss whether somebody is making margaritas at noon?

That's the conversation I want.

Because some of these Housewives will take a five-star vacation and turn it into a mandatory HR meeting.

You could put them on the most beautiful island in the world, and by 6:15 somebody would be crying in the bathroom, somebody would be packing their luggage, somebody would be calling somebody a liar and another woman would be screaming:

“THAT'S NOT WHAT I SAID!”

Meanwhile, I'm already at the beach.

Give Me Food, Drinks and Peace

My private-island itinerary would be VERY simple.

Wake up.

Eat breakfast.

Go back to sleep if I want.

Wake up again.

Walk on the beach.

Have a drink.

Get in the pool.

Eat something else.

Play some games.

Have another drink.

Take pictures.

Laugh.

Eat dinner.

Maybe have some wine.

Go to bed.

REPEAT.

Where exactly does arguing fit into this schedule?

It doesn't.

And I'm not changing the itinerary.

If you want to spend three hours arguing about who didn't defend you at somebody's birthday party, please take that foolishness to the other side of the island.

I'm trying to find out what's for dinner.

Don't Bring Workplace Energy to Paradise

We've all dealt with people who drain the life out of a room.

You know the type.

They can walk into a perfectly good day and somehow make everybody miserable.

You say, “Good morning!”

They say, “What's so good about it?”

Okay, Dracula.

That's exactly the type of person I DON'T want traveling with me.

If we're on a private island and you wake up looking for an argument before breakfast, I'm going swimming.

If you're gossiping about me while I'm swimming, I'm staying in the water.

If you start an argument at dinner, I'm ordering dessert.

You're not ruining my vacation.

I Don't Care Who Owns the Island

And another thing: I wouldn't be obsessed with the whole “private island” situation.

People hear private island and suddenly everybody becomes an investigative reporter.

“Who owns it?”

“How did they buy it?”

“Does their family live there?”

“Who else has been there?”

Listen, I need enough information to know that everything is legitimate and safe. Absolutely. I'm not just hopping on a mystery boat headed toward some unmarked island.

Let's use common sense.

But once I know everything is safe?

I'm ready.

I'm not pulling property records while everybody else is drinking champagne.

I'm on vacation!

RHONY Would Have Me Swimming Back to New York

Now imagine being trapped on an island with Housewives-level drama.

Oh, absolutely not.

One woman is upset because somebody took her room.

Another is mad because she wasn't seated next to somebody at dinner.

Another heard somebody talking about her.

Then somebody brings up something that happened TWO YEARS AGO.

Suddenly dinner is ruined.

Glasses are shaking.

People are yelling.

Someone walks away from the table.

Somebody follows her.

And here I am trying to eat my lobster.

Ma'am!

Could we schedule this argument AFTER dessert?

Actually, schedule it for after I leave the island.

I deal with enough personalities in regular life. I'm not volunteering for overtime.

Vacation Should Feel Like Vacation

That's really my whole point.

I want vacations to feel FUN.

I want memories.

I want laughter.

I want ridiculous pictures.

I want to sit around with people telling stories.

I want good music playing.

I want somebody saying, “Let's go swimming!”

I want somebody else saying, “Who wants another drink?”

THAT'S my crowd.

Not:

“We need to have a conversation.”

Every time somebody says those words on a Housewives trip, you already know dinner is about to go straight to hell.

Keep that conversation.

I'll be at the bar.

Life Is Stressful Enough

Real life already comes with bills, jobs, customers, supervisors, coworkers, family disagreements, responsibilities and people getting on your last nerve.

So if I finally get the opportunity to escape to some gorgeous island?

I AM ESCAPING.

I don't want a board meeting.

I don't want a therapy session.

I don't want an intervention.

And I definitely don't want somebody throwing shade across the dinner table because they didn't like something I said four episodes ago.

Pour the wine.

Turn up the music.

Bring out the food.

Let's play cards.

Let's walk down the beach.

Let's laugh until somebody's stomach hurts.

Tomorrow we can swim, eat and do it all over again.

That's a vacation.

Final Thoughts: Save the Drama for Bravo

So yes, invite me to the private island.

Just make sure it's safe.

Make sure there's plenty of food.

Make sure the drinks are flowing.

Give me somewhere comfortable to sleep.

Give me a beach.

Give me a pool.

Give me some games.

And most importantly:

Give me PEACE.

Because I'm not flying across the ocean to argue with grown people.

The Real Housewives can keep all that screaming, crying, storming away from dinner tables and bringing up old mess.

I'm trying to eat!

If somebody starts yelling while I'm drinking my cocktail, I'm putting on my sunglasses, grabbing my plate and walking directly toward the beach.

Y'all can argue.

I'll send you a postcard.

Now I want to hear from YOU!

Would you go on a private-island vacation with the Real Housewives of New York City ladies? Or would you tell them, “Thanks for the invitation, but I'll catch y'all when you get back”?

And what are YOUR vacation rules: peace and cocktails, or drama and gossip?

Drop your opinion in the comments because I already know some of y'all would be sitting right at that dinner table listening to ALL the mess! 😂🍹🏝️

CTA: If you love reality TV commentary, messy pop-culture conversations and a little shade with your tea, share this post and follow for more. Because we can watch the drama without volunteering to LIVE in it!