IBIZA 9 DAYS IN PARADISE

[Hellraiser92]

Always remember this American lad in the army years ago, posting pure gold every couple of days about his two-week Ibiza bender in here. Thought I’d give it a go myself—loved reading his updates, and figured, why not return the favour?
The old heads in here will remember his story......He did make us laugh
Might won't be nowhere near as crazy as with the family this time

Hopefully you enjoy it...
It’s like the night before Christmas.
I’m a big child who’s had too much sugar (or maybe just pre-holiday adrenaline).
Alarm’s set for 3 a.m.
It’s now 1:12 a.m.
I’ve been counting sheep. They're on strike.
The missus is out cold. And I’m wide awake, typing this, practically vibrating with excitement. Gonna try & sleep but it never happening. I always used to get wrecked the night before ibiza ( very bad habit & mates always cracked up with me )

Ibiza's changed for me over the years. Been going at least once a year since the ’90s. Honestly lost count—somewhere between “keen regular” and “honorary local.”

I’ve been lucky, really. Grew up in Belfast’s ’90s rave scene. The only proper escape from all the madness. While the city had bombs and guns, we had beats in dodgy backstreets and the odd club that somehow survived the troubles ( will except the Arena, cunts burnt it done ffs ) some nights in that club

My wee bro’s a DJ, and a few of my best mates were deep in the scene. I was always surrounded by music.
He played Space back in the day—proudest big brother moment ever, tear in the eye and all that.
I got my first set decks at 15. He was about 12. By 13, he was better than me. By 14, he had my decks, my records, and my retirement papers.
Still has my vinyl, the cheeky sod, probably 3000 between us.

Once, Mum and Dad went on holiday and left us home alone. Big mistake.
Arena club ended, me being me, had the whole bus back to ours roughly 50 people.
Bro on 3 decks in the living room age 14, blowing minds with dirty tech house vibes.
We found a few kegs wink wink, never trust them chefs filled the bath with two kegs of beer—everyone scooping with giant plastic cups.
Shotgunned the kegs in the bathroom. Complete mess but free beers for everyone......
Girls did the clean-up. Absolute legends.
Parents never suspected a thing (or pretended not to).

I’ve done Ibiza every way possible—mostly villas with a small crew of heroes for one or two weeks.
How we survived two solid weeks in ’98 is still a mystery.
Nonstop. No sleep.
We always brought decks every time. So even staying in was... out out if you know what I mean.

One year I brought 34 people to a villa fir a week.....
F**king chaos.
Never again.
Another story.

But this year?
Different vibe.
It’s me, the wife, and the kids: 18-month-old princess and 12-year-old lad.
Proper family trip.

And as any seasoned Ibiza head will tell you.....
Bring the grandparents.
Babysitting = Cheeky nights out.
Simple math.

Funny story—my mum and dad had their honeymoon in Ibiza 49 years ago.
So yeah... this 48-year-old was technically made in Ibiza.
Maybe that’s why me and the island have always clicked.

Thought it’d make the perfect Christmas gift—fly the whole family out this summer.
Now I’m here, wide awake, running through the shopping checklist before this flight in couple hours ( wish I could sleep)

Flight: 7 a.m.
Where: Playa Bella Hotel – cheap, cheerful, family favourite, solid basecamp for sunshine and semi-responsible mischief, everything on doorstep, probably stayed here dozen times, also owner Dan is 100% ( probably sick my emails ) but he will be getting a lovely bottle irish gin for my 2 bedroom seaview & parents nowhere near my room

Will keep you all updated

 

[Hogimuzik]

Always remember this American lad in the army years ago, posting pure gold every couple of days about his two-week Ibiza bender in here. Thought I’d give it a go myself—loved reading his updates, and figured, why not return the favour?
The old heads in here will remember his story......He did make us laugh

Hopefully you enjoy it...
It’s like the night before Christmas.
I’m a big child who’s had too much sugar (or maybe just pre-holiday adrenaline).
Alarm’s set for 3 a.m.
It’s now 1:12 a.m.
I’ve been counting sheep. They're on strike.
The missus is out cold. And I’m wide awake, typing this, practically vibrating with excitement. Gonna try & sleep but it never happening. I always used to get wrecked the night before ibiza ( very bad habit & mates always cracked up with me )

Ibiza's changed for me over the years. Been going at least once a year since the ’90s. Honestly lost count—somewhere between “keen regular” and “honorary local.”

I’ve been lucky, really. Grew up in Belfast’s ’90s rave scene. The only proper escape from all the madness. While the city had bombs and guns, we had beats in dodgy backstreets and the odd club that somehow survived the troubles ( will except the Arena, cunts burnt it done ffs ) some nights in that club

My wee bro’s a DJ, and a few of my best mates were deep in the scene. I was always surrounded by music.
He played Space back in the day—proudest big brother moment ever, tear in the eye and all that.
I got my first set decks at 15. He was about 12. By 13, he was better than me. By 14, he had my decks, my records, and my retirement papers.
Still has my vinyl, the cheeky sod, probably 3000 between us.

Once, Mum and Dad went on holiday and left us home alone. Big mistake.
Arena club ended, me being me, had the whole bus back to ours roughly 50 people.
Bro on 3 decks in the living room age 14, blowing minds with dirty tech house vibes.
We found a few kegs wink wink, never trust them chefs filled the bath with two kegs of beer—everyone scooping with giant plastic cups.
Shotgunned the kegs in the bathroom. Complete mess but free beers for everyone......
Girls did the clean-up. Absolute legends.
Parents never suspected a thing (or pretended not to).

I’ve done Ibiza every way possible—mostly villas with a small crew of heroes for one or two weeks.
How we survived two solid weeks in ’98 is still a mystery.
Nonstop. No sleep.
We always brought decks every time. So even staying in was... out out if you know what I mean.

One year I brought 34 people to a villa fir a week.....
F**king chaos.
Never again.
Another story.

But this year?
Different vibe.
It’s me, the wife, and the kids: 18-month-old princess and 12-year-old lad.
Proper family trip.

And as any seasoned Ibiza head will tell you.....
Bring the grandparents.
Babysitting = Cheeky nights out.
Simple math.

Funny story—my mum and dad had their honeymoon in Ibiza 49 years ago.
So yeah... this 48-year-old was technically made in Ibiza.
Maybe that’s why me and the island have always clicked.

Thought it’d make the perfect Christmas gift—fly the whole family out this summer.
Now I’m here, wide awake, running through the shopping checklist before this flight in couple hours ( wish I could sleep)

Flight: 7 a.m.
Where: Playa Bella Hotel – cheap, cheerful, family favourite, solid basecamp for sunshine and semi-responsible mischief, everything on doorstep, probably stayed here dozen times, also owner Dan is 100% ( probably sick my emails ) but he will be getting a lovely bottle irish gin for my 2 bedroom seaview & parents nowhere near my room

Will keep you all updated

LOVE it!! And l used to love to read the American's reports also early / mid 00's .. Popcorn moments.. I hear you re the 90's mischief, being a Galway man, we had the smaller, but mad as fu@k clubs / raves.. With my decks from 13yrs also (48yrs now!)... As for sleep the night before a return to our 2nd home, forget it.. Safe travels, enjoy the sneaky fun to come...

 

[bazilba]

Go on big man. 46 year old glasgwegian and back for another built in babysitter trip on the 30th.

Staying at playa bella for the 1st time so good to hear its an ideal base for this kind of mix.

Looking forward to your updates!

 

[claretclubber]

Looking forward to this

Playa Bella is a solid family spot, ok pool, beach front and taxi boat close. The rooms Jet2 are modern, one had an absolutely massive balcony facing Plastik.

 

[ohmygod]

Always remember this American lad in the army years ago, posting pure gold every couple of days about his two-week Ibiza bender in here. Thought I’d give it a go myself—loved reading his updates, and figured, why not return the favour?
The old heads in here will remember his story......He did make us laugh

Hopefully you enjoy it...
It’s like the night before Christmas.
I’m a big child who’s had too much sugar (or maybe just pre-holiday adrenaline).
Alarm’s set for 3 a.m.
It’s now 1:12 a.m.
I’ve been counting sheep. They're on strike.
The missus is out cold. And I’m wide awake, typing this, practically vibrating with excitement. Gonna try & sleep but it never happening. I always used to get wrecked the night before ibiza ( very bad habit & mates always cracked up with me )

Ibiza's changed for me over the years. Been going at least once a year since the ’90s. Honestly lost count—somewhere between “keen regular” and “honorary local.”

I’ve been lucky, really. Grew up in Belfast’s ’90s rave scene. The only proper escape from all the madness. While the city had bombs and guns, we had beats in dodgy backstreets and the odd club that somehow survived the troubles ( will except the Arena, cunts burnt it done ffs ) some nights in that club

My wee bro’s a DJ, and a few of my best mates were deep in the scene. I was always surrounded by music.
He played Space back in the day—proudest big brother moment ever, tear in the eye and all that.
I got my first set decks at 15. He was about 12. By 13, he was better than me. By 14, he had my decks, my records, and my retirement papers.
Still has my vinyl, the cheeky sod, probably 3000 between us.

Once, Mum and Dad went on holiday and left us home alone. Big mistake.
Arena club ended, me being me, had the whole bus back to ours roughly 50 people.
Bro on 3 decks in the living room age 14, blowing minds with dirty tech house vibes.
We found a few kegs wink wink, never trust them chefs filled the bath with two kegs of beer—everyone scooping with giant plastic cups.
Shotgunned the kegs in the bathroom. Complete mess but free beers for everyone......
Girls did the clean-up. Absolute legends.
Parents never suspected a thing (or pretended not to).

I’ve done Ibiza every way possible—mostly villas with a small crew of heroes for one or two weeks.
How we survived two solid weeks in ’98 is still a mystery.
Nonstop. No sleep.
We always brought decks every time. So even staying in was... out out if you know what I mean.

One year I brought 34 people to a villa fir a week.....
F**king chaos.
Never again.
Another story.

But this year?
Different vibe.
It’s me, the wife, and the kids: 18-month-old princess and 12-year-old lad.
Proper family trip.

And as any seasoned Ibiza head will tell you.....
Bring the grandparents.
Babysitting = Cheeky nights out.
Simple math.

Funny story—my mum and dad had their honeymoon in Ibiza 49 years ago.
So yeah... this 48-year-old was technically made in Ibiza.
Maybe that’s why me and the island have always clicked.

Thought it’d make the perfect Christmas gift—fly the whole family out this summer.
Now I’m here, wide awake, running through the shopping checklist before this flight in couple hours ( wish I could sleep)

Flight: 7 a.m.
Where: Playa Bella Hotel – cheap, cheerful, family favourite, solid basecamp for sunshine and semi-responsible mischief, everything on doorstep, probably stayed here dozen times, also owner Dan is 100% ( probably sick my emails ) but he will be getting a lovely bottle irish gin for my 2 bedroom seaview & parents nowhere near my room

Will keep you all updated

Absolutely here for your updates. Have a brilliant time!

 

[Hellraiser92]

IBIZA DAY 1: A Love Letter to Chaos & Cocktails & the BULL

Plane doors fly open — BANG! That heat hits you in the face like a Spanish slap, followed by that unmistakable Ibiza smell… mix of jet fuel, suncream, and poor decisions. You instantly forget the last 6 hours of hell in the airport & sky. It’s party time
Yeooooooooooooooo

Then, from beside me....
"Daddy?"
Oh yeah. Right. It’s not that type of holiday. My wee princess just reminded & holds my hand

I remember the old days flying to Ibiza: no sleep, red-eyed and buzzing, rolling into the airport like the cast of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest from partying all night. How some of the lads made it past security, I'll never understand. One time we had tunes thumping from a big speaker at the back of the plane, playing 7 card stinking, 50-euro hands. One the lads was down €500 before the plane even took off.

Girls joined us mid-air — dancing, smiling — we were 5 minutes into the flight and it was already a full on rave. Now if your headphones are slightly loud, you get a stern talking-to from a 19-year-old in hi-vis, jealous as fuk.......
Times have changed.


Anyway, walk out of Ibiza Airport like...
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH."
Heaven.

Quick photo at the Ibiza sign with Mum and Dad. My mate runs private transfers, 9-seater Mercs with free champagne (for us) and water (for the kids, obviously). I can see the fear in my dad’s eyes. He knows. It’s only a matter of hours before I go off the rails. Again.

Check-in at Playa Bella is smooth. I gift Daniel, the manager, a bottle of Basalt Irish Gin — absolute cracker of a gin, even if the branding is full-on Game of Thrones:
"Made from volcanic rock and rainwater dripped from Celtic unicorn tears at the gaints causeway."
We both laugh, I apologise for the email chain (we’ve all sent those ones), and he gives me a belter of a 2-bed apartment in block 1 with a big balcony overlooking the pool and bay. Mum and Dad are in Block 6 cracking view over the bay — nice and far away from the madnessofo my tunes on the balcony......
Must put in my Spotify link
Tunes banging

We chill all day by the pool. Me and the missus on the cocktails like a pair of relaxed pirates. Life is good.

Quick shower, bit of Ck that was only £20 at the airport ( i smell pure 90s ) and we’re off — 500-yard stroll to Khumaras.
It’s 7:20PM. Already 70% full. Ibiza’s getting busier every year especiallyall my wee hidden gems from years ago. Waiter clocks my dad, clearly thinks he’s some retired mob boss, and gives us the best seat in the house — big oak table right beside the DJ and bar.

We order: first round

1 cava sangria jug

2 piña coladas

2 beers

1 wine

Some bits for the kids

€91 bill. Mum’s eyes nearly popped out of her head like a slot machine jjackpot.Welcome to Ibiza
Food’s great — little Mexican spot — tasty, solid value €13 to €15 each each....

Princess starts getting tired, been a long day & she loves her sleep but I’m going the other way: party mode is activating.


7 rounds later. Walking out of Khumaras around 9:30PM, we hit the top of the road. I spot the bar with the mechanical bull on the right hand side — empty. No one in. Fancy 1 more cheeky pint? Mum and Dad are game but I already know my plan & I know my wife with a few cocktails in her......

Midway through first pint , I see it: the glint in the missus' eye. Our son’s on the bull, and she’s watching. My dad pipes up:
“You getting on next?”
She says,
“Can’t in this outfit.” (Short short skirt. You know the drill lads )

The horny bull operator hears this and starts licks his lips. Drops the bull low. She jumps on like she’s done this before. Suddenly:
BOUNCE. GRIND. MOON RISING.

He’s got her arse in the air like it’s an art installation. Slowly bouncing her chest up and down — I swear, two full moons in Ibiza that night & puppies near out

Within six minutes the bar is packed. People walking past are stopping, filming, cheering. The missus is now the show. Bull speeds up. She gets launched, G-string flies one way her the other. Crowd goes wild.

Standing ovation.
Bar’s now full after mc horny on the bull controls.... he played the walking past crowd well. Everyone was in now. Energy is electric.
All the mums & granny's want a go now. We have createda monster. Now all the women want a go. Queue forms. At one point, four girls are on the bull at once.
Health & Safety? Not tonight. This is IBIZA.Every woman & granny getting on the horny bull.....

Never laughed so much. Tears down our faces. Hour of non-stop madness.

We stumble the 500 yards back to Playa Bella, grab a couple of kebabs and a carryout, and park ourselves on the balcony. Kids are asleep. Tunes are on (low volume, obviously — I’m not a c***).
Bed 3am

First day done. €500 down but happy
I. Love. This. Island.

 

[Hogimuzik]

IBIZA DAY 1: A Love Letter to Chaos & Cocktails & the BULL

Plane doors fly open — BANG! That heat hits you in the face like a Spanish slap, followed by that unmistakable Ibiza smell… mix of jet fuel, suncream, and poor decisions. You instantly forget the last 6 hours of hell in the airport & sky. It’s party time
Yeooooooooooooooo

Then, from beside me....
"Daddy?"
Oh yeah. Right. It’s not that type of holiday. My wee princess just reminded & holds my hand

I remember the old days flying to Ibiza: no sleep, red-eyed and buzzing, rolling into the airport like the cast of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest from partying all night. How some of the lads made it past security, I'll never understand. One time we had tunes thumping from a big speaker at the back of the plane, playing 7 card stinking, 50-euro hands. One the lads was down €500 before the plane even took off.

Girls joined us mid-air — dancing, smiling — we were 5 minutes into the flight and it was already a full on rave. Now if your headphones are slightly loud, you get a stern talking-to from a 19-year-old in hi-vis, jealous as fuk.......
Times have changed.


Anyway, walk out of Ibiza Airport like...
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH."
Heaven.

Quick photo at the Ibiza sign with Mum and Dad. My mate runs private transfers, 9-seater Mercs with free champagne (for us) and water (for the kids, obviously). I can see the fear in my dad’s eyes. He knows. It’s only a matter of hours before I go off the rails. Again.

Check-in at Playa Bella is smooth. I gift Daniel, the manager, a bottle of Basalt Irish Gin — absolute cracker of a gin, even if the branding is full-on Game of Thrones:
"Made from volcanic rock and rainwater dripped from Celtic unicorn tears at the gaints causeway."
We both laugh, I apologise for the email chain (we’ve all sent those ones), and he gives me a belter of a 2-bed apartment in block 1 with a big balcony overlooking the pool and bay. Mum and Dad are in Block 6 cracking view over the bay — nice and far away from the madnessofo my tunes on the balcony......
Must put in my Spotify link
Tunes banging

We chill all day by the pool. Me and the missus on the cocktails like a pair of relaxed pirates. Life is good.

Quick shower, bit of Ck that was only £20 at the airport ( i smell pure 90s ) and we’re off — 500-yard stroll to Khumaras.
It’s 7:20PM. Already 70% full. Ibiza’s getting busier every year especiallyall my wee hidden gems from years ago. Waiter clocks my dad, clearly thinks he’s some retired mob boss, and gives us the best seat in the house — big oak table right beside the DJ and bar.

We order: first round

1 cava sangria jug

2 piña coladas

2 beers

1 wine

Some bits for the kids

€91 bill. Mum’s eyes nearly popped out of her head like a slot machine jjackpot.Welcome to Ibiza
Food’s great — little Mexican spot — tasty, solid value €13 to €15 each each....

Princess starts getting tired, been a long day & she loves her sleep but I’m going the other way: party mode is activating.


7 rounds later. Walking out of Khumaras around 9:30PM, we hit the top of the road. I spot the bar with the mechanical bull on the right hand side — empty. No one in. Fancy 1 more cheeky pint? Mum and Dad are game but I already know my plan & I know my wife with a few cocktails in her......

Midway through first pint , I see it: the glint in the missus' eye. Our son’s on the bull, and she’s watching. My dad pipes up:
“You getting on next?”
She says,
“Can’t in this outfit.” (Short short skirt. You know the drill lads )

The horny bull operator hears this and starts licks his lips. Drops the bull low. She jumps on like she’s done this before. Suddenly:
BOUNCE. GRIND. MOON RISING.

He’s got her arse in the air like it’s an art installation. Slowly bouncing her chest up and down — I swear, two full moons in Ibiza that night & puppies near out

Within six minutes the bar is packed. People walking past are stopping, filming, cheering. The missus is now the show. Bull speeds up. She gets launched, G-string flies one way her the other. Crowd goes wild.

Standing ovation.
Bar’s now full after mc horny on the bull controls.... he played the walking past crowd well. Everyone was in now. Energy is electric.
All the mums & granny's want a go now. We have createda monster. Now all the women want a go. Queue forms. At one point, four girls are on the bull at once.
Health & Safety? Not tonight. This is IBIZA.Every woman & granny getting on in the bar.....

Never laughed so much. Tears down our faces. Hour of non-stop madness.

We stumble the 500 yards back to Playa Bella, grab a couple of kebabs and a carryout, and park ourselves on the balcony. Kids are asleep. Tunes are on (low volume, obviously — I’m not a c***).
Bed 3am

First day done. €500 down but happy
I. Love. This. Island.

LYRICAL GOLD

 

[Dan Gruner]

Oh god. Where do I start? I can't beat these revews lol..!

 

[Hellraiser92]

Carl Cox 9am set
Getting kids back 10am
WTF
500/1 me staying till that time
The old me yes
This has completely blown my mind
Like space Sundays back in the good old days .......

 

[Hellraiser92]

Holiday Log – Chaos, Cops, and Carl Cox

Woke up the next morning to discover my partner’s thighs were black and blue. No idea if that was down to me… or the bull.

Today was a chill one. Posted up by the pool, weather was bangin’, kids living their best lives on the mini slides. Honestly, Playa Bella is hands-down the best family basecamp on the island if your rolling on a budget.

Wife’s Birthday Bash – Level 35 Unlocked

Big day! My wife turned 35—ah, to be 35 again... I’d booked a tapas spot,called Tapas .... just 5 mins away by taxi. Food and service were unreal. There were 4 adults, 2 kids, a flood of drinks, and the bill came to €297. Not bad considering the location—right across from Burger King/KFC, up a wee road, very romantic compared to 500 yards down the road & all kids / vomit...

Back to the hotel, kids crashed out, and we had a mini balcony rave with tunes and drinks, watching the world stumble by.

Next Day –

Another lazy pool day. The wee one’s confidence in the water soared—beaming all day. Loving life, her wee smile. Got me wrapped round her finger already ffs

Dinner was at Relish—my personal favourite spot in Ibiza. It’s not fancy-pricey but punches way above its weight. I had the coconut Thai mussels and prawns. Genuinely unreal. If I could write a love letter to a dish, it would be to that. Booked in again for sunday dinner.

Back to the hotel for a nightcap, serenaded by an Elton John tribute act. We laughed so hard I nearly slipped a disc—he was that bad.

Kids asleep by 10:30ish, us back on the balcony for more wine-fuelled wisdom and my playlists.

Friday – Let the Madness Begin

YEOOOOOOO! The day had arrived.

Universe was finally opening its doors—Carl Cox, my old flame, was headlining. But plot twist… the Martinez Brothers (who were absolute fire at EDC Vegas couple years back) were on at 7am. Carl: 9am. All tickets sold out. Entry at 6am—€80. And we’d already paid €280 for our passes. Felt financially violated.

I pitched the idea of an early night and 6am club mission to the missus.

She looked at me like I’d just asked if we could adopt a raccoon.
She reminded me we have kids. At 10am. And responsibilities. And you have a liver with limits at 48 years old.
Thanks love

Night Out – The Ibiza Odyssey

Kids handed over to the grandparents at 7pm. Balcony pregame with tunes and drinks, taxi booked for 11:45pm.

Traffic wasn’t too bad, but the scene outside the club? Mental.

Cops everywhere. Undercover, overcover, some armed with what looked like actual AK47s. Spot checks happening like a Call of Duty loading screen. Didn't look at us but pulled some into a tent for a search. Wild.
A couple of guys ahead of us get yanked in too, and one of them shouts, “Dad! Dad!”
I’m thinking, code word?
I tell this guy his mates got pulled, and he replies in the thickest Glasgow accent walking faster....

“Aye, I know the wee ballbags. They’re my 2 sons. But I’ve got drugs up my hole. Being a good dad. They’ll be fine, see them in the club.”
And he just marches off toward the club.

My wife and I just looked at each other llaughing for ages.
We met them again in the club, had a geg over it. Dad sound

More sniffer dogs. More chaos. But we made it in. Double doors open, music hits like a freight train. First impression: club is MASSIVE. Like, cathedral-of-raving vibes. Stunning.

Grabbed a drink: one beer, one vodka-coke — €48. With a mandatory minimum €1 tip on card.
Options were 1,2,3,4,5,10,15,20 euro tips....You know some folk were tipping €20 a pop just to show off. I reckon those bartenders made €2000 that night, easy.

Dancefloor: bouncing. Vibe: buzzing. Cameras not covered with stickers, so it was all selfie central. Bit annoying, but hey, its Ibiza.

Now, I love a good tune—but I’m a bit of a music snob. And honestly? The set felt like: 1 banger, followed by 4 songs of elevator techno. Repeat.
I was fuming. “You’ve got the crowd in the palm of your hand—do something with it!” Some girl sparkling top.
no idea who, Will Smith got the crowd going more & my misses
So we wandered. The venue? Absolutely stunning. Best warehouse/club vibe I’ve seen in years. Music got better .....But by 5am it was packed, our wee dancing patch was gone, and for some reason everyone was dancing on the stairs. Total health & safety nightmare taking pics & talking shite, trying to pass them ( i sound old & grumpy ) just get into the music & dance.....

We called it. Taxi back was smooth, but the traffic leaving the club? Brutal. Cars everywhere, people walking up the middle of the dual carriageway like it was a zombie apocalypse. Loads cars parked up side & abandoned on duel carriageway...... People sick the traffic & wanted to dance. The real ravers arriving.
Like I wanted to do

Wrap-Up

Didn’t get to see who I wanted, but honestly? We had an amazing night. Laughed our heads off, danced like idiots, and made memories we’ll still be giggling about when we’re 80.
The club looked stunning but they probably made that money back on the opening night.

P.S. We didn’t eat in the burger place. It was daylight robbery. Not that I could’ve eaten anything anyway…

Back to the room. Few tunes. 7am to bed.
I felt like I done good
Until the hangover yesterday