Arrogant Travellers

Despite what many people think, the worst kind of travel companion isn’t the one who complains constantly. On the contrary, the most annoying of them is the one who spends the whole trip contesting everyone’s complaints, in a permanent need to defend himself, as well as justify every decision or choice he has made. Whoever has had the unfortunate opportunity of travelling with this “friend” has realized this: arrogance is infinitely more irritating than grumpiness.
While the first one is merely a kvetch whose most annoying character flaw is his unnerving childishness (normally, after the whining comes the sulking), the second is an insufferable and cocky idiot, whose unyielding pride prevents him from admitting even the possibility of having made a mistake while planning the vacation.
Both travellers’ discourse is unceasing and infuriating, but the difference lies in the stubbornness. A whiner will eventually quiet down: sooner or later he will run out of steam and resort to sulking, not before uttering his final threat, which you know he will never carry out (“I’m not coming on a trip with you ever again!”). But it is impossible to silence an arrogant traveller. His imagination and his profound knowledge coupled with his immense culture and extensive travel experience enable him to have a comeback ready every time someone questions his judgment.
Laden with the burden of having to organize the entire holiday by himself, this martyr of enterprise and resourcefulness would rather dodge every criticism than admit he wasted time making plans that weren’t the most suitable, in terms of price, location or available time. Proud is his character and indignation is his profession. Self-righteous in nature, his job during the holidays is to become outraged at every slight contest of his line of action.
In short, these are the three main principles which guide the conduct of this tourist:
1. “If this is bad, there is (far) worse” (or its alternate version, “if we’re bad, we could be (far) worse”);
2. “If this is bad, it’s not my fault”;
3. “If you don’t like it, try to do a better job than me”.

All three, needless to say, are based on the self-righteous and self-victimizing reasoning of “I’ve done the best I could with the time I was given”.
The MO of this true embodiment of human pride (very often in a masculine form, curiously) consists, generally, in one of three alternatives (ordered here according to the level of aggressiveness towards the complainer): to evoke a worse situation than the one they find themselves in, to come up with an excuse or (and this is the most violent of the three) ask others to do better, placing the responsibility of the decision on the person who complains.

Bearing this in mind, the derogatory comment “This hotel looks quite filthy, George” could lead to three possible replies, followed by a brief explanation to corroborate what has just been said and further exaggerate his point of view:
1. “There were far worse hotels than this one. In fact, this is even included in the Michelin Guide. You should have seen a hostel where I stayed when I went to Bratislava. There was a common bathroom for the whole floor. At least this one has a functioning shower.”
2. “I told you to book the flight earlier. That way we would have had more to choose from.”
3. “You don’t like it? Find another one. Good luck trying to find a hotel at these hours…”

The first one is a classic: praising the place he has chosen, conjuring up a worse scenario than the one in which he finds himself, in order to seem better by comparison. Normally, it is accompanied by references which account for the choice as well as mentions of past experience as a traveller, aiming to discredit the naïve opinion of the complainer, who barely knows what he’s talking about. The Inter Rail is a common mention, essential paradigm of the sacrifices one has to endure when travelling, and a fundamental part of his supercilious sermon. One of his frequent fallacious tactics is appearing to be reasonable: he will never say “it was the best of all”, because he knows that is a ridiculous statement, but he will probably say “it was the best there was, at this price and this distance to town”.
The second is the also classic cop-out and, in a way, constitutes a prelude to the third one: by not taking responsibility, he blames the person who was complaining in the first place.
The final kind of reply is the most aggressive and confrontational. The intention, however, is to always maintain a confident look, of a man who puts an unwavering trust on the decisions he has made, and is only willing to change if the others do something about it. Nevertheless, it poses a great danger: that someone might, in fact, find a better hotel than his, forcing him to admit he made a wrong call. That is why he will only do so in the presence of less experienced travellers, who are not in the position of demanding better accommodations.
Therein lays the distinctive feature that makes this person so infuriating: his obsessive pertinacity. In order to defend his choice, the arrogant traveller will stand for the most despicable lodgings, the steepest routes, the most uninteresting museums, and the least attractive attractions. Regret is never an option. A proud traveller will never answer to the comment “George, this restaurant you picked is quite rowdy and untidy” with “You’re right. Next time I’ll try to check another guide”. He will always assume a defensive posture: “It was the best listed in this guide. At this price and this distance, you couldn’t get any better.” Indeed, a true arrogant traveller would rather insult an official institution or document like a map or a brochure than admit he made a mistake. “George, we’ve been running around for over half an hour and we still haven’t found a place to eat.” “It’s not my fault. This guide was poorly printed. It has the restaurant marked in four different streets. You should have brought the GPS. If you want, look for it yourself. Here’s the map. You should have seen me in the woods of Bavaria, in the Inter Rail. We had to use a compass and hunt game for dinner.”
At the end of the day, one thing’s for sure: it is easier to please a whiner than to make an arrogant traveller admit a mistake.