
Future Outlook for All-Inclusive Resorts
If you think all-inclusives are going back to the “all you can drink” days, I’ve got a stack of expired drink tokens to sell you. Resorts are scrambling, priorities are all over, and nobody actually knows what’s next. Everything’s shifting—costs, labor, travel news, drink rules that change every quarter. It’s chaos, honestly.
Trends Shaping Hospitality
My inbox is just full of people raving about all-inclusive demand. Mexico, Dominican Republic—JLL says occupancy was 77% in 2022. That’s wild. But everyone I know who works front desk is exhausted. There’s this chase for “luxury” and “stress-free” (lol), so now Marriott, Hyatt, Hilton—everyone—wants in. Hilton Tulum? Apparently their new pride and joy, and bookings are up, at least if you believe Travel Weekly.
But look, it’s not all endless champagne. Market slowdowns keep popping up in rumors, and even Ultimate All-Inclusive Travel’s Geoff Millar says the market’s “reaching a plateau.” So, not just my paranoia. Brands are chasing “upper-upscale” guests, adding more spa stuff, acting like AI resorts are the answer (yeah, right).
Predictions for Drink Options
Here’s the weird part: it’s 2025 and people still DM me about shrinking drink menus, like there’s some secret. There isn’t. Resorts are just cutting house spirits, limiting top-shelf, and someone somewhere is tracking the price of mango puree. “All-inclusive” doesn’t mean “unlimited” anymore. I get it—liquor’s expensive, but try telling that to a bachelorette party demanding cocktails in pineapples.
All the hype is about “premiumization,” but if you read between the lines (hotelier forums are wild), menus shrink, cocktails hide behind “club” upgrades, beer taps turn into basic lagers. If you want the good stuff, you’re buying into a tiered package. My friends in beverage supply just laugh. Want craft gin? Unless you’ve got the black wristband, it’s bottom-shelf tequila for you.
Frequently Asked Questions
Counting drink tickets like you’re in Vegas is fun until you realize the punch bowl’s empty by sunset. Junior bartenders, drink caps—it’s like performance art. There’s paperwork, lawsuits, rumors about “rowdy guests,” and sometimes someone just walks off with the rum. Vacation, right?
Are drinks at all-inclusive resorts typically watered down?
Last March in Playa del Carmen, my daiquiri tasted like sadness. Or melted ice. No bartender’s going to admit they water down drinks, but social media loves the conspiracy. Holiday travel sites (“Why is my cocktail mostly pool water?”) won’t let it go, and industry folks debate whether it’s to save money or curb bingeing. Bartenders swear it’s just ice, but I trust my taste buds more than any press release. Why do we ask for more ice and then complain it’s watery? I don’t know.
What strategies can guests use to enjoy alcoholic beverages responsibly at all-inclusive resorts?
People say “pace yourself,” which is about as useful as “just relax.” Dr. Kanika Madan (TravelMed Magazine, 2019) says keep a glass of water after every cocktail. Or Gatorade, if you’re fancy. Buddy system helps—someone always ends up with everyone’s room numbers in their phone. Ask for club soda spritzers, ignore the side-eye. And please, skip the tequila challenge unless you enjoy headaches and weird applause.
How does the quality of alcohol at all-inclusive resorts compare with standard bars?
The eternal mystery. What even is “well liquor” and why is it in my piña colada? I once got a vodka with a label I couldn’t pronounce and a straw already jammed in. Resorts sometimes pay for name brands, but usually only for “theme nights.” The rest of the time, it’s whatever’s cheapest. Fodor’s article says it depends on your package. If you’re splurging, ask what’s actually in the bottle. Cruise lines print their house pour lists daily—why don’t resorts? Still never figured out what gin I was drinking.
Are there concerns about the safety of consuming alcohol at resorts in destinations like Punta Cana?
Remember summer 2019? Every travel podcast was talking about “tainted hotel booze.” CDC says most people are fine, but a handful of news stories and now I check my glass for floaters. The State Department once said don’t accept pre-opened drinks. Makes sense, honestly.
Nobody ever asks about the juice, but I’ve seen pineapples go moldy by noon. Some managers say they do regular checks. I always pack activated charcoal tabs, just in case.
What are the tipping etiquettes regarding bar service at all-inclusive resorts?
I once tipped in Canadian dollars by mistake. Oops. The usual is $1–$2 per drink at U.S. resorts, 20–50 pesos in Mexico. Some bars post “no tip required,” but everyone still slips bills under napkins. Travelers I met in Isla Mujeres swear a big tip on the first round gets you better pours and faster service. Sometimes even an extra drink. If you walk away empty-handed, was it the tip or just bad luck? Only the bartender knows.
For non-drinkers, do all-inclusive resorts offer enough value and alternative beverage options?
Honestly, I used to roll my eyes every time someone shouted for another round of bottomless mai tais. But, like, have you actually looked around lately? Coffee bars everywhere, random smoothie counters popping up, vitamin water stations I never use (does anyone?), and, weirdly, Kombucha kegs—because apparently we’re all hipsters now. Sandals, Club Med, whatever—some of these places brag about “specialty” teas, imported sodas, mocktail menus with actual mint, and coconut water on tap for all those people who pretend they like the gym on vacation.
But let’s not kid ourselves. Sometimes “unlimited options” just means you get Coke or Sprite in a slightly fancier glass. Last year in Punta Cana, I heard someone try to score almond milk and the bartender just shrugged and poured green juice. Close enough? I mean, if you don’t drink, you can still go wild on the food, spa, or whatever activities they’re pushing, but, honestly, when was the last time you saw a mocktail menu that wasn’t, like, three sad drinks long while the wine list is basically a novel?