In every couple, there’s a travel organiser and a passenger. I know who I’d rather be

October 15, 2025 — 5.00am

There is a genre of travel video doing the rounds on social media, and it goes something like this: A person is shown standing in line at the airport. “Hi,” they say. “My name is John, and I booked the tickets!”

A second person is shown, standing to the side and looking very relaxed. “My name is Jane!” they say cheerily.

The first person does all the organisation, while the second person gets to chill and come along for the ride.Credit: iStock

We see the first person again, this time laden with luggage. “My name is John,” they say, “and I carry the bags!” The second person skips by, holding nothing but a handbag. “My name is Jane!” they trill.

The first person holds up a set of car keys. “My name is John, and I organised the hire car!” The second smiles beatifically, without a care in the world: “My name is Jane!!!”

You get the drift. The first person does all the organisation, while the second person gets to chill and come along for the ride. Or, to put it a different way, they go into Airplane Mode.

Now, I was an organiser for many years. As a divorced mother of three, if I wanted to travel, I needed to plan and execute the trips myself. If I wanted to travel with my kids, I needed to plan and execute a holiday for four people, which was so exhausting it was often easier just to stay at home.

He loves to travel, he is great at organising trips, and he is perfectly content to take charge. And I have adapted extremely well.

For the past four years, however, I have been in a relationship with a man who is very much an organiser. He loves to travel, he is great at organising trips, and he is perfectly content to take charge. And I have adapted extremely well.

The moment one of us raises the possibility of a trip – “I have some time off in November, shall we go away?” – I go into Airplane Mode. Sure, I offer the dates I can travel, and I might even half-heartedly make noises about where I’d like to go. But once we’ve decided on the time and place, I switch off.

My partner books the flights, he sorts the accommodation, he organises hire cars, he plots the itineraries, and he exchanges the currencies. It’s a lot, and he does it extremely well. I could help, of course, but why? He enjoys being the organiser, and I have my own role.

Airplane Mode is relaxed, but it is not without responsibility. My job on our holidays is to express appreciation for my partner’s efforts and to entertain him with my dazzling personality. And so, for the duration of our holidays, I allow him to lead. (Or, more accurately, I encourage him to lead.) I trot along behind as he steers us through the airport, gets us to our accommodation, chooses good places to eat and takes us on excursions.

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This makes for a very peaceful holiday. After a lifetime of chores and schedules and decision-making, I can enter a Zen state for a week or three. Each day, I wake up and ask where we’re going, then promptly forget. I get into the hire car, drink my takeaway coffee, fall asleep while my partner drives, get out at the destination he has chosen and ask, “Hmmm, where are we again?”

I admire the view, browse in the museum and look through the shops before eating lunch at the cafe he’s chosen. (I do choose my own meals, though, a task arduous enough to require another nap once we return to the car.)

It is the perfect arrangement, bar one small issue. My recollections of our trips can, I’ve discovered, be a little hazy. There is something about planning and preparing for a holiday that lays the groundwork for lasting memories. Reading up about France or Italy or Spain, making the decision to go there, choosing the best routes, deciding how much time is needed and identifying the most important landmarks primes you for the actual visit. And it has more impact to hop on a gondola in Venice, or find the best coffee in Mykonos, or figure out the Tube route in London, when you’ve made all the arrangements yourself.

Still, I’ve been there and done that, and I’m older now, and tired. I love being shown to my seat and told what is happening, and I absolutely adore being surprised. “Oh wow,” I say. “This is our accommodation?” Or, “Oooh, pretty! What city is this again?”

For the week or two we are travelling, I don’t need to be capable or independent. I don’t need to be on alert for scams, or remember the route back to our hotel, or find the ticket booth, or figure out the conversion rate. Hell, when we’re in transit, I don’t even need to be conscious! I can lay back, snooze, and awaken only to sample the local delicacies, stroll around the towns and enjoy the view.

It might be lazy, and I might be taking advantage of my partner’s good nature, but my god, it’s relaxing.

He can do the work. I’m switching to Airplane Mode.

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