So, you know that fantasy where you’re poolside and the drinks just keep coming? Yeah, that’s a myth now. I swear, last time I was at an “all-inclusive,” the mojito tasted like melted ice and sadness. I thought it was just my luck, but nope—turns out resorts everywhere are quietly slashing drink menus and rationing pours. Not even subtle about it anymore. Why? Apparently, there’s this mess of new local rules, penny-pinching, and some half-baked “responsible tourism” PR. Spain’s Balearic islands? They’re the poster child, if you can call it that. Everyone I meet there is grumbling, and the official docs back it up, if you’re the type who reads those. See for yourself.

And here’s the kicker: nobody warns you at check-in. You find out when you ask for your third gin and tonic and suddenly you’re handed a little drink voucher like it’s a school carnival. Bartenders? They’ll spill the tea if you catch them off shift. I’ve heard them joke about how much the resort saves by watering everything down and hiding the good stuff. Guests compare notes like it’s a murder mystery. Now it’s all pre-batched, lower-proof “mixes” (whatever that means) and some vague promise that it “enhances the experience.” Sure. The brochures? Not a hint. Meanwhile, food’s gotten a little better, but the bar’s shrinking fast. Travel journalists are onto it.

Staff act all confused when you ask about the limits—“new laws, party regulation, who knows”—like it’s some private joke. Meanwhile, the travel ads still scream “unlimited fun.” Seriously, if you actually care about your drinks (I mean, who doesn’t?), pay attention. The rug’s been pulled out, and you’ll run out of tokens way before you run out of sunburn.

What Are All-Inclusive Resorts?

You’ve seen the ads, right? Smiling people, cocktails everywhere, not a care in the world. That’s the fantasy. Reality? Eh, a little messier.

Defining All-Inclusive Resorts

So, my cousin booked one of these “all-in” vacations. Turns out, “all” stopped at toothpaste and spotty lobby Wi-Fi. The real deal? You get a room, some food, drinks (sort of), and a few activities, but the devil’s in the fine print. “All” means whatever the resort wants it to mean that week.

Like, in Cancún, you get a colored wristband. Blue? Sorry, no steakhouse for you. Tequila? Only if you’re in the VIP club. Some places are honest and throw in nearly everything except spa stuff or those overpriced boat rides. Travelex breaks it down if you want the boring details. Wi-Fi? Half the time you pay extra. “Ease of planning” is just code for “ask at every turn what’s actually included.”

Traditional Drink and Meal Inclusions

I admit it—“unlimited drinks” was the hook for my last trip. Reality? Local beer, neon margaritas, and if you want Champagne, suddenly the staff forgets you exist. Most places do the whole buffet thing, maybe a sushi bar if you’re lucky. But premium booze? Not unless you shell out for a fancier tier.

Heard one guy rant about how the “specialty coffee” was an extra charge and shrimp skewers by the pool cost more than his flight. The list of what’s actually included jumps around. Some, like Hyatt Ziva Los Cabos, actually deliver—sushi, French food, the works (see the breakdown). For families, the basics cover most needs—unless you want imported whiskey or a steakhouse dinner. And midnight snacks? Forget it. Why are resorts always stingiest when you’re starving at 1am?

The Recent Shift in Drink Options

So you finally sit down, ready for a rum punch, and—bam—new rules. No more endless margaritas before noon. Spain’s talking about six-drink daily limits, like the sun’s suddenly less brutal. Governments, insurance companies, “concerned citizens”—everyone’s got a reason, none of which really explain why my vacation is suddenly rationed.

Notable Changes in Drink Offerings

The warning? A sad laminated sign behind the bar. Balearic Islands (Magaluf, Playa de Palma, all those party spots) cap you at six drinks a day. Three at lunch, three at dinner, and good luck if you’re thirsty at 3pm. Thomas Cook spells it out: wristband color = drink limit. That’s the whole system.

“Unlimited” is dead. I’ve heard managers brag that alcohol costs dropped by nearly a third since 2023. Meanwhile, sodas and mocktails flow freely, but try ordering a daiquiri at midnight—nope. Watching tourists realize the party’s over? Oddly hilarious. Some sneak out to local bars, others just sulk with a Sprite.

Nobody’s asking for craft beer. The included stuff is basic—San Miguel, a gin, some mystery rum. The cocktail menu? Pay extra, stand in line, and hope it’s worth it. I keep seeing people frantically Google “liquor store nearby” between pool dips.

Effects on Guest Experience

It’s painfully awkward when the waiter says, “You’ve hit your limit, wanna pay?” That’s a vibe killer. I met a guy who bought a stack of “upgrade” cards just to get more drinks—total waste, since local news says half the staff ignore the rules anyway.

People used to judge a place by how strong the drinks were. Now, everyone’s plotting out their daily ration. Lunch crowds get rowdy, evenings are a snooze. Met a couple celebrating ten years together—they found out about the six-drink rule at check-in, then the bar ran out of tonic by 8pm. Owners claim it’s about “anti-social behavior,” but I watched someone double-fist spritzers before 3pm just to beat the system. Totally misses the point.

Now folks sneak off-site, or just switch to soda and pretend it’s fine. Honestly? It’s a letdown if you saved up for that old-school “drink-all-day” vacation. Staff hate policing the rules, too. Less time making fun drinks, more time counting tokens. Feels backward.