CHRIS AWWAD TURNS 40
This isn't a party.
It's a FEMA training simulation.
10 days.
If you’re not throwing up at a beach club while screaming ‘I’m a doctor!’ — why did you even come?
JULY 29 – AUGUST 8, 2026
Amsterdam → Mykonos → Regret
Chris Awwad is turning 40.
Most people would take up meditation, get really into sourdough, or learn pickleball. Chris is not most people.
Chris is what happens when Fire Island folklore has unprotected sex with a medical degree and births a fully licensed physician with the ankle flexibility of Shakira's backup dancers and the decision-making skills of someone who just screamed "WHAT COULD GO WRONG?" in a wind tunnel.
He is married to Ben (a saint, a legend, potentially under duress). Chris also has the wrist mobility of an Indian classical dancer and the subtlety of a gay parade float crashing through a library. He believes in dignity, but exclusively for other people, and his morning routine involves waking up at 3 pm, conducting a damage assessment, and entering every room like he's being announced at a ball, but the ball is on fire, and everyone's screaming.
This man is a DOCTOR. An actual physician. He can literally save your life, which is convenient because several of you won't survive this trip without medical intervention.
There will be canal parades that make your hometown Pride look like a church bake sale. There will be boat days that violate the Geneva Conventions. There will be clubs we enthusiastically plan to attend and definitely won't make it to. There will be breakfasts we absolutely don't deserve but will photograph anyway. There will be hotel staff whose judgment is so palpable you can taste it.
Start crafting lies for your employer immediately, and book your PTO.
THE ITINERARY
THE ITINERARY
Depart NYC – Abandon All Heteronormative Expectations
Book a red-eye. Take whatever helps you sleep on planes. Wear something that whispers "I'm mysterious and European" but screams "I haven't seen my therapist in months." Get to Amsterdam or get removed from the group chat with extreme prejudice.
Pro tip: If TSA asks about your luggage contents, maintain eye contact and lie confidently.
Wednesday, July 29
Arrival in Amsterdam – The Calm Before the Gay Apocalypse
You land. You smell like recycled airplane air and broken dreams. You check in.
This is your ONLY day to behave like a normal, well-adjusted human being. Use it wisely. Tomorrow you become something else entirely.
Thursday, July 30th
World Pride Begins – The Transformation
We hit the streets of Amsterdam like a locust swarm, but make it fashion. Hydration isn't a suggestion; it's a competitive Olympic sport, and you WILL medal. Dancing is mandatory. Your bedroom preferences are irrelevant because by 5 am you'll be horizontal somewhere regardless, probably near a canal, definitely contemplating your life choices while a DJ plays Madonna at a frequency that summons ancient spirits.
This is when you stop being polite and start being FERAL.
Friday, July 31st
Canal Parade – Witness Gay History Being Made (By You, Unfortunately)
This is the day you reach your evolutionary form. If you're not screaming at complete strangers from a barge while dressed like European royalty having a very public crisis, you have fundamentally failed to understand the assignment.
The Resurrection Protocol
Oh, you thought Saturday ended at sunset? That's ADORABLE. There's an evening party and you're attending even if someone has to Weekend-at-Bernie's you there. Find your will to live at the bottom of a mimosa glass. Channel your inner Jesus Christ. Resurrection isn't optional; it's the whole theme.
Saturday, August 1st
Closing Party – Resurrection Is Mandatory
You thought you were done? Sweet summer child. There's ANOTHER party and you're going. No excuses. No mercy. No child left behind.
This is the final boss battle of Amsterdam. Channel whatever energy you have left: borrowed, stolen, or manifested through sheer delusion. Find your second wind, your third bump, and your will to keep going when every muscle in your body is begging for a nap.
Finish what you started.
Sunday, August 2nd
Amsterdam → Mykonos – The Great Gay Migration
There is exactly ONE direct flight from Amsterdam to Mykonos: Transavia at 6:10 AM, arriving 10:30 AM.
If you're the kind of person who values sleep over efficiency, there are connecting flights later in the day.
Whichever option you choose: Check into the Rochari Hotel, smile at the front desk like you're a functioning adult who definitely didn't just travel across Europe in last night's outfit, and try to remember which room is yours. Emphasis on try.
Monday, August 3rd
Jackie O' Beach Club – Where Your Self-Esteem Goes to Die
We're starting at Jackie O' Beach Club, where the staff could walk for Versace, the cocktails taste like liquid confidence, and the food is so transcendent it might actually heal your daddy issues. Everyone here is bronze, oiled, and radiating the kind of glow that makes you wonder if they're human or just very committed to their skincare routine.
You will feel inadequate. This is correct. Lean into it.
Tuesday, August 4th
Boat Day – Nautical Chaos Theory
Chris has rented a yacht because when you're having a midlife crisis, you might as well do it with a horizon view.
Arrive greased, sleep-deprived, and dressed like a slutty sea witch who has RANGE. There will be champagne. There will be strategic nudity. There will be crying; hopefully from laughter, probably from the sun, definitely in the ocean. Pack three pairs of sunglasses because someone's going overboard and it might be you.
If anyone gets philosophical and says "this trip changed me," it's your moral obligation to push them into the Aegean.
Wednesday, August 5th
Day TBD + Dinner at Interni – Elevated Emotional Terrorism
Morning: Another beach club or the hotel pool. Which one? Honestly doesn't matter. You'll be horizontal, aggressively hydrated, and silently judging everyone's swimwear choices like it's your job.
Evening: Interni - THE dinner. THE moment. THE setting of your inevitable public breakdown.
This is where grown adults cry into carbonara, confess things that should remain in therapy, and reapply bronzer between courses like their lives depend on it. A dress code is forthcoming, but expect "elevated Mediterranean drama" meets "who hurt you and why are you telling us about it NOW?"
Look devastating. Speak without thinking. Order carbs like you're storing up for winter.
Thursday, August 6th
Jackie O’ Redux + Sunset Drag Show – A Religious Experience
Yes, we're returning to Jackie O' because sequels are for winners. You'll tan, pose, and pretend Thursday’s dinner didn't expose everyone's deepest psychological wounds.
Then we ASCEND: Sunset drag show on the water.
This isn't entertainment. This is a spiritual ceremony conducted in false lashes and flowing linen. You will cry. You will flirt with someone named Dimitri or Stavros or just "wow." You will make decisions your financial advisor would call "alarming."
Do NOT wear practical footwear. Do NOT attempt to "take it easy tonight." Do NOT leave before the sun sets or Chris will personally file a missing persons report and also never forgive you.
Friday, August 7th
Departure – Ghost the Island or Marry a Bartender
Check out, check yourself, and check your wallet. Some of you will fly home. Some of you will extend. Some of you will stare into the Aegean and whisper “I’m different now” while holding a duffel full of mesh and mistakes. Whatever you choose: hydrate, lie at customs, and never speak of what happened on that boat.
Saturday, August 8th
FAQs
-
Book your flight from NYC → Amsterdam to arrive on Thursday, July 30 (or Friday the 31st if you're brave, chaotic, or dead inside).
There is a 6:10 am direct flight from Amsterdam to Mykonos with Transavia on Monday, August 3, or you can take a connecting flight later in the day.
You'll fly home from Mykonos (JMK) on Saturday, August 8, unless you’re extending your trip, falling in love, or going on the run.
-
In Amsterdam (July 30–Aug 3):
Chris will be staying at the Hotel Estheréa, but there are many hotels nearby at different price points.In Mykonos (Aug 3–8):
You’re staying at the iconic, judgmental, and deliciously homosexual Rochari Hotel in Mykonos Town. Chris is covering this. Yes, really. Don’t ask why — just show up looking expensive and emotionally available. -
Here’s the breakdown, since some of you need math and boundaries:
Flights → You.
Amsterdam hotel → You.
Mykonos hotel → Chris.
Yacht day → Chris.
Meals, drinks, taxis, emotional damages → Split.
We’ll be splitting group dinners, drinks, taxis, and anything else that isn’t clearly gifted by Chris or spontaneously covered by a horny stranger.
-
Mesh, SPF, regret-proof shoes, and a thong that tells a story.
This is not a backpacking trip. This is a high-drama, high-summer, high-risk environment. Bring one nice dinner outfit, three chaos looks, and whatever emotional support objects you need to survive five consecutive sunsets with homosexuals. -
Themes and dress nights are coming, but assume that any moment could be photographed for a “Hot Gays in Mykonos” calendar. Prepare accordingly.
-
Jason will organize a group gift for Chris. Beyond that: your presence, your chaos, and your commitment to making questionable decisions together. If you feel compelled to bring something, bring entertainment value.
-
No. Not unless they were explicitly invited.
This isn’t a wedding. It’s a curated experience. If we wanted your boyfriend, situationship, or emotionally unavailable travel companion on the guest list, they’d be on the guest list.
Exceptions are made only for international lovers named Luca with strong jawlines and no opinions. -
You can, but just know we’ll talk about you.
-
Then you’ll remember everything — and we’re so sorry for that.
In all seriousness, you’ll be fine. You don’t need alcohol to enjoy the trip. We support sober queens, kings, and thems. And let’s be honest: there are other substances. Europe is nothing if not pharmaceutically flexible. Just bring your vibes, your sparkle, and your judgment — we’ll take care of the rest.
How not to be annoying on a group trip.
1. If you're going to be late, be hot.
You can be early. You can be 45 minutes late. But if you’re going to stroll in mid-chaos, you better be serving a look with a story. And an apology.
2. Don’t ask questions that were already answered in the FAQ.
If you say “wait what time is the flight again?” after we made this beautiful website, someone is legally allowed to unplug your life support immediately.
3. We split checks evenly. Don’t make it weird.
No itemizing. No “but I didn’t have the octopus.” No whispering about who ordered what when the check hits the table. We split everything evenly. That’s the rule. Like communism, but make it gay.
4. No sudden schedule changes.
This is not Euphoria. No one is improvising the narrative. You can dip out if needed — but don’t try to reorganize dinner for 12 because you “just found this really cute place.” We already hate influencers. Don’t make us hate you.
5. Don’t complain about hangovers.
You did this to yourself. Like the rest of us. Suffer quietly and reapply SPF like a professional. Complaining is for people who lack character.
6. Know when it’s not your moment.
Everyone gets their spotlight. But not every dinner needs your 18-minute story about a Berlin DJ who ghosted you in 2018. Some nights belong to others. Clap from the sidelines. Your time will come.
7. If you’re being dramatic, be entertaining.
Breakdowns are not just allowed, they're encouraged. But make them legendary. Cry dramatically in the ocean. Storm off in a caftan. Throw your sunglasses. Just don't sit in a corner being vague and low-energy. This isn't a student film. It's MYKONOS.
8. Be Generous. Be Kind. Tip Well.
You're gay. You're in Europe. You're already the loudest person in every room. Balance it with generosity. Tip your servers. Thank your hotel staff. Karma is real and she's watching - and recommends 10%.
9. Take photos, but don't live through your phone.