Love Island is a fair judgment of the UK.

Prejudice is hard to avoid. One might limit how it affects an interaction or not carry it with them entirely. But sometimes, it's the most correct opinion you could ever imagine.

Firstly, don't ask if someone is from the UK if they have a slightly more funny-sounding accent because of the off chance they are from Ireland; it's not worth the fire that erupts in their eyes.

Secondly, watch a few episodes of Love Island before interacting with any British person between the ages of 17-26. They are all direct descendants of the romance, alcohol, and stupidity that is the show Love Island.

The first meeting with these primate-like humans was during the Full Moon Party on Koh Phangan in the Gulf islands of Thailand. A full Moon brings 20,000 people to party on the beach until sunrise. My accommodations included myself, Marty, the hippy man, and three 18-year-olds from Leeds. The pickings were slim on who to go out with. After an uncomfortable long conversation with the hippy man, Marty invited me to the weekly drum circles. He explained why using deet bug spray is terrible as he was a meat bag for the mosquitoes surrounding us.

I happily chose the Lads on tour, as I now realize I usually do, and we bonded over my use of the term "birds" when talking about women, not as a belittling term, just as a factual statement. Their goals for the night were vastly different than mine. I wanted to drink on the beach and dance; they tried to keep the 13-day bender going—the first step to this plan was meeting a guy on the beach who would sell them ecstasy and not rob them. We will come back to this step later.

Our host at the small Jungle eco-lodge eco-lodge we were staying in gave me the rundown of what would happen to my night.

-In her strongly worded Kiwi accent-

#1 Don't bring your passport. It will get stolen or lost.

#2 Don't get any fucking paint on my sheets, it will not come out, and I will charge you to replace it.

#3 Please do not call me if you need help in the middle of the night.

I do not think that she gave this same talking to the British guys as they had two phones stolen, their wallets, and got paint all over the provided towels.

As thousands of tourists and partygoers flock to the island for one night, often not booking accommodations and attempting to get the first ferry back to Koh Tao or Koh Samui (@8am), the island changes overnight. Every restaurant filled, and the British boys and I were forced to get Mexican food before the evening began. This was a defining moment in my travel adventures, and I wouldn't know till twenty-four hours post the nachos and hot sour cream.

Haad Rin Beach was filled for the full mile-long stretch of sand, with every bar and club playing music as loud as possible. Getting from one end of the beach to another involved jumping some waves and a fire-covered jump rope. This was a staple party event; nothing more tempting than eleven beers and a third-degree burn. Body paint is sold on every corner, and buckets are filled with every mix of alcohol you could dream of.

The half-time I took to get a change of shirt and a banana muffin turned into my primary experience of the night. I quickly gave up on the British guys as I found some friends I knew from Bangkok who were a little more my speed.

My takeaway from the party was more focused on the Icelandic guy I got a beer (or three) with at 2 am and his stories about working on a sailing boat off the remote coast of the island. His stories were awe-inspiring, and incredibly interesting to hear about how people live in Iceland. For better or worse, the lack of people and career competition on such a small island promotes mental issues that the country is working on fixing. This man was content in his little town on the ocean that he could easily access the fishing port and take vacations to islands as we were on when he didn't need to be working.

The main story he told was about the serendipity he felt pulling in thousands of fish off the coast of Iceland when the sun never really sets; it just dips and rises without any rest on the horizon. This moment of working countless hours without a break, but the line of fish must be tended to, looking out over the vast ocean knowing that the beautiful golden hour would extend into the next day, he felt pure happiness in this career that he had never planned on falling into. He wished everyone felt this feeling of yelling into the ocean full of emotion and passion for this lifestyle.

I saw my friend the next day after the pair of hours we spent the night before talking about this fishing boat. He promptly pulled down his pants to show me the fresh tattoo on his buttocks, with the name of his ship engraved on his stern forever.