Viva Ibiza

So there I was, drifting out to sea. Boat party was bumping but I guess everyone had enough of flat surfaces and decided on going into the water. Whatever potion the staff crew whipped up had done the trick ‘cos it made me feel super. I was paddling along, without a care in the world until it finally occurred to me, ‘Bro, I swear you can’t swim’. It was there I knew I was done. Suddenly the waves were dragging me into ventures unknown. The boat seemed to be getting further and further away. God can’t let me go out like this. I still had plans in life. Wanna have a big house, wife and a kid that’ll become a professional athlete and pay off my mortgage. It took the power of a million men to paddle back to safety. The way my guys were moving, they would’ve only noticed on the plane ride back that I was missing. I cheated death a total of 6.5 times in the duration of my Ibiza trip. The 0.5 occurring when one of the guys gave me a shot of Patron and my soul genuinely leapt out and done a couple backflips before returning back. I tried to style it out like I was fine obviously…

I’d been to Ibiza before but that had been dubbed the warm up. This time there were nine lads in my batch and I had a greater expectation in mind. I guess it started from our stopover at Madrid Airport where they were handing out cocktails at the Duty Free bar… after my third I gathered that this would be a sign to come. A lot of people saw my Snapchats, telling me how amazing the trip looked. In reality I had to Snapchat so much so I could piece together all of the previous night’s events. Despite nine of us in the batch, each night we always managed to split up into smaller groups, each with our own different adventures. During breakfast we’d gather together and discuss what had happened from each other’s perspectives. Well that’s for those who could make it to breakfast. No amount of hangover could stop me from free food, couldn’t say the same for everybody else though.

I’m not a big drinker to be honest. I left that life back in my university days when Southern Comfort had me slumped during a fire alarm where the rest of the building had been evacuated. But I had to adopt an ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ approach when I was out there. Rekindled with my old flame Vodka. Vodka will have you singing along to songs that you don’t know the lyrics to. It’ll have you cutting shapes even though you can’t dance. I saw one of my guys; didn’t know if he was dancing or having a seizure. So offbeat I had to stop dancing and confirm that we were listening to the same tune. Gratefully Vodka was my limit though, some of the stuff out there shouldn’t have been legal. I saw stuff which no longer had names rather their chemical elements accompanied by a skull underneath, probably wise to stay clear. That one will have you speaking in tongues.

I’m not a big drinker to be honest. I left that life back in my university days when Southern Comfort had me slumped during a fire alarm where the rest of the building had been evacuated.

I pride myself in my short succinct blogs, mainly to stop myself from babbling (sometimes anyway), but discussing an experience like Ibiza requires more than a five minute read. It often has a grimy reputation but when in one of the main strips you can find a titty bar down the road from the local Burger King, you can see why. Going to a party island made me realise how much of a granddad I’d become. Those 1 am motives were way past my curfew and my goodness water had never tasted so good. Will I make a return? Only time will tell. Leaving a place full of rowdy Brits to go to a place full of rowdy Brits probably isn’t the logical way to use my twenty eight days’ worth of annual holiday.

Joe