thescorpion
New Member
Note to the Mods, this has been FULLY edited. SOrry about the original.
Everyone else, this is a heck of a read, but bear with it, cos its a bit funny in parts i hope lol.
Ibiza 2003
This is a review of my holiday to Ibiza 2003. We left at approx 9pm on Friday 5th September, arriving in Ibiza airport at approx 00.40am local time. Along with myself (21), my younger brother Mark (19) and his friend Matt (18), both Ibiza virgins, made the trip. Two weeks of lunacy ensued.
Friday 5th Sept
After waiting around about 8 months waiting for my 3rd trip to Ibiza, it was finally time to depart for the airport. Cases packed, Mark and me arrived to check in at about 7pm. We had arranged to meet Matt at the check in desk and seeing that he hadn’t arrived yet, we waited. And waited. And waited. Mark got more and more exasperated, with “Where is the dozy bastard? I f***ing told him 7 o’clock” being more or less the gist of his grievance. At around half seven, we decided to check in without him, and Mark decided to go to the main entrance of the airport building to wait for Matt. Then over the PA system came an announcement: “Could Mark Majury go to the information desk please”. I feared the worst as Mark came back inside.
“Was that my name?” Mark asked,
“Yep”.
We made our way up an escalator to the departure lounge, then down a set of stairs, round a corner, and finally found the information desk. “Are you Mark Majury?” the girl asked. I took the phone as she said my dad was on the line.
“Hello?”
“Paul, Matt just phoned the house there, he went to the wrong airport. He’s on his way up there now”.
Matt had gone to Belfast City airport, which doesn’t fly outside the UK. The correct airport, Belfast International, in which we were waiting, is about 20 miles away. Matt had 15 minutes to get here or miss the check in.
We made our way back around to the check in area, and with about 5 minutes to spare, Matt finally trudged through the automatic doors, to be greeted by a volley of abuse from the ever sympathetic Mark. Anyway, we checked in and because of his lateness, Matt ended up beside two very drunk and very loud fifty-somethings on the plane. Serves him right I suppose. The flight was non-eventful, but it felt great to finally be in the air and on my way to the White Isle.
I’d like to point out at this stage that this review will be given day by day, although each day will cover overnight on that date, i.e. Friday 5th September will cover the night of Friday and the early hours of Saturday morning, as to me, Friday night doesn’t end until it is light on Saturday morning.
So we touched down in Ibiza Airport at the expected time and picked up our cases. We met the reps that directed us to our coach, which we boarded. We sat right at the back and patiently waited for everyone else to get on board. Eventually at about 3am or so, we arrived at the Apart hotel Las Perlas, is San Antonio Bay. We had at this stage made an informed decision that we should go out as soon as we left our bags in. We were given the room number 404, on the top floor and at the end of the corridor, meaning we only had neighbours on one side. The room itself was a studio, 2 single beds and a bed-settee. Nothing special but no complaints.
Bags down, deodorant and aftershave on, we were ready to go out. We got a taxi into the West End, and immediately set about looking for some cheap drinks and some drugs. We sat at a bar called Capone’s I think, where the special offer seen us getting a pint of vodka and red-bull and two shots of schnapps for €4. We sat outside and were soon joined by about 4 lads from Dublin We went back to Capone’s as it seemed pretty quiet, and to get another pint of vodka and red bull. The rest of the night escapes me somewhat, but I know we were in Koppa’s at some stage, where Mark did a bit of drunken pole-dancing on the pole at the back, cheered on by a drunken crowd. Don’t ask me why I can only remember that bit though. We got back to the apartments at some stage, around 6am I believe, and I’m told I fell soundly asleep on the floor beside one of the beds. I can remember coming round and Matt telling me that he had lost his shoes on the night out somewhere. To this day he doesn’t remember how he came home without his shoes, or what happened to them, but this was a taster of what was to come. Mark was apparently in the pool in his boxer shorts with a group of lads from the Republic of Ireland somewhere. I thought it would be a good idea to join them, so I went down in a pair of swimming shorts, not realising that my wallet with euros and all was in my pocket. Anyway I think it might have been around 12pm on the Saturday afternoon that we all got to bed.
Saturday 6th September
I’m not sure what time we all got up, but Mark and Matt told me that they had made the 20 minute trek into the West End in the blistering sun, only to discover that most ‘looky-looky’ men take the daytime off. Mark says he was physically incapable of making the 2-mile or so walk back to the apartments, and they got a taxi. I was hungry and decided to head over to the Amsterdam Steak House (a big, not too expensive restaurant just across the road) for some dinner. I can remember sitting in the steak house, tucking into my chicken in black bean sauce, when I noticed someone dancing about on our balcony. Looking a bit closer through my still bleary eyes, I realised that it was Mark, clutching a litre bottle of San Miguel and shouting something. I laughed to myself, this was a really funny sight, and finished my food. As I walked back over towards the apartments, I began to be able to make out what Mark was shouting, or indeed chanting. “Macedoniaaaaa” was the cry. He was aiming this at the 50 or so England fans sitting in the bar opposite the apartments, and they looked none too pleased. A group of lads from Dublin sitting outside the apartments on a bench thought this was hilarious, as did I. I quickly made my way up to room 404, and joined in the fun. Most of the England fans saw the funny side, although a few looked none too pleased. We drank a bit more beer and made our plans for the evening. Mark decided that a combination of lack of sleep, too much beer, had got the better of him. He decided to stay in and around the hotel that night to get ready for the trip to Space the next day. Matt and me were going into the West End, as I wanted us up at 11am to go to Space. We arrived in the West End at about 11pm and I remembered a bar I had been to before called Strikers. In 2001, it had been 1500 pesetas for an hour’s free drinking. Vodka, Bacardi, Whiskey, Beer and mixers were all free for an hour. Again, the rest of the night escapes me, mostly due to the free drink in Strikers. I’m pretty sure we went somewhere else, and I’m told it rained, but I can just remember waking up at around 11.30am the next morning. I can’t remember how I got back, nor can Matt. Mark spent the evening in the ‘Queen Victoria’, a traditional and absolutely ridiculous English pub in the hotel. This opens from 12am – 3am, and will be touched upon in more detail a bit later on.
Sunday 7th September
I woke at about half eleven, and set about getting the other two out of their beds. Although I had been to Space before in 1999, I had never been to the much-hallowed ‘We Love Sundays’, and today was to be my first time. We got a taxi across to Space about 12pm (which cost €20) and made our way in for our free drink. The free vodka and lemon was rather refreshing and we stayed in the terrace for a few hours. Mark looked a bit miserable, complaining that he felt sick. I decided that €10 for a vodka and lemon wasn’t that bad, and proceeded to buy about another 4 of them. We went inside, as Mark wanted to sit down and try to chill out. This was when I discovered the X-Box consoles and some gamed called X-treme Beach volleyball. Probably more due to my current mental state, I stood at the X-Box for more than 45 minutes without actually playing a game of volleyball. Anyway Mark made a miraculous (albeit short) recovery and shot straight to the dance floor arms aloft, where I joined him. About 4pm, I realised that I had about enough money for another 3 vodka and lemons at the going rate, and we decided to use our armbands to full effect. We went to the beach, past Bora-Bora, and sat in a place called Pago-Pago Beach, where we chilled out and drank some reasonably priced vodka and red bull, entertained by some mangy cat that was wandering about the place. At around 8pm, we returned to Space, where we discovered the terrace was packed. We went inside and sat down for a while, but the heat was starting to get to me. I started getting a little freaked out and at about 11.30pm, when the terrace was about to close, Mark stood up and announced that he really didn’t feel well and was leaving. Although I wanted to try and stay until the death, I knew that with the terrace closing the inside would be even more packed, and that I would rather just go back to the apartments. So we left and got back around 12am. We went to the pool area and watched the worst karaoke display ever, before going to the ‘Queen Vic’. I found the whole Queen Vic experience quite surreal. It was all decked out in a traditional English style, with leather chairs and a dartboard. We tolerated this nonsense for around 2 hours before going back up to our room and drinking some cheap and pretty disgusting vodka. I think we all got to bed about 4 or 5 o’clock.
Monday 8th September
I’m not sure what time we all got up at on Monday, but it was around dinnertime. I was walking across the road to the super Mercado when a guy whispered something behind me.
This guy told me his name was Lee and gave me his phone number. Lee will feature a bit more later on during this review.
I decided that seeing as we were all pretty sober, we should go to the sunset strip and watch the evening’s sunset, which I reliably informed the others would take place at around 8.15pm. We got on a bus at about 7.50pm, and noticed to our alarm that the sun was dangerously low in the sky. We got off the bus at the egg, and ran most of the way up to Café del Mar. I think we made it just in time, although to be honest, we couldn’t tell, as the horizon was shrouded in a low cloud, turning the sunset into an orange haze. Not to be deterred, we made our way to the Coastline Café, and settled down to watch two beautiful bikini clad girls dancing in the knee-deep pool. The music was funky and great, and the pints were going down nicely. I even managed a chicken burger and chips, which at €4.50 was great value for money. At around 1 or 2am, most of the people around the pool were up dancing, and we joined them. At this stage we were all quite wasted and I informed them of the phrase ‘Throwing Shapes’ which referred to dancing. Neither Mark nor Matt had heard this phrase before and found it really funny. The evening descended into farce when we decided to have a ‘Shape Throwing Competition’ whereby the rules stated that we had to name a shape which had not previously been thrown by any of the other participants, make the shape as best as we could with our hands, and throw it. It was funny at the time, honestly. We stayed until Coastline closed, and while walking back up towards the West End, were accosted by a guy from a bar called Karma, who promised us a ludicrously cheap drink deal to come in. We did, and were awarded 2 pints of vodka and red bull, along with 2 shots of blackcurrant vodka each, for about €6. The place itself was quite small, but had good music, and a lot of girls playing pool and sitting around. Mark’s chat up line, which consisted of asking the girls back to our room for an orgy, proved ineffective, and after finishing our drinks, we left. We headed back to the apartments, where we drank more vodka. At around 6am, I informed Matt of the fact that Space would soon be opening for the Manumission Carry-On, and with enthusiasm, he decided we should go. In my drunken state, I agreed. Mark more sensibly decided on going to sleep.
Tuesday 9th September
Matt and me left for the walk into the West End at around 6.30am. We managed to find some ‘looky-looky’ men obviously putting in a bit of overtime. We sat at the Koppa’s Bar, which we were pleased to discover stayed open all night. After a few drinks we got into a taxi and stated our destination. The girl driving the taxi told us that Space didn’t actually open until 8am, which we were quite surprised about. The fact that the girl could have made a €20 taxi fare to take us to Space an hour before opening, but decided to tell us that we were too early, was refreshing honesty. We walked to the apartments and waited until 8am, when we ordered a taxi and went to Space. Even in the taxi I began to start doubting the decision to go across to Space. We got to Space and paid €35 for entry, €25 more than those who had been to Manumission. I began to dance and enjoy myself. As with a lot of other times on the trip, as soon as one of us really started having a good time, the other suffered the opposite effect. Matt started complaining of really bad stomach pains and I knew deep down that we wouldn’t be staying very long. I think it was around 11am that I decided we should go home. Another €20 taxi ride meant that we had spent €55 each for 3 hours in Space.
We got Mark up when we got back, which he wasn’t too pleased about. We were sitting around in the room listening to music and drinking the cheap vodka (€5.40 for a litre), when we heard a knock at the door. We had to tidy up a bit, as the maid called at really unusual times throughout the holiday and was a complete bitch. Finally Matt opened the door to be greeted by an English guy called Mark, who was friends with Lee (See Monday). This guy was given a hero’s reception. Tuesday night was to be a non-event, with our plans reading along the lines of a quiet drink at a few local bars, before a few hours in the shambles that was the Queen Vic. Again, in keeping with the theme of the holiday, this proved not to be the case.
We found a bar a bit further out in the Bay called the Florida Park, which I had been to on my previous trip in 2001. It was buy one get one free on all drinks all night, but as with most of the first drinks out, they went very slowly. Tonight was Matt’s turn to feel sick (although the fact that he had had no sleep since Monday afternoon played a major part), although Mark and I had a backup plan to liven us up if the necessity arose. Indeed it did, as with us on a rate of around a pint every half hour, we decided the night wasn’t moving along as we had planned. We watched the Ireland v Turkey match. A bit later Mark and me had one of the two disagreements we had on the whole holiday, which as brothers wasn’t bad. I stormed off and returned to the apartment. I met 2 girls from Northern Ireland in the apartments who were staying across the corridor. I decided to show the girls the photos we had taken during the first 3 days, and had gotten developed earlier on Tuesday, and they were amused but probably a little more worried by what they saw. Mark and Matt returned and we settled our earlier differences. The 2 girls sat in our apartments and had some awful vodka. At around 3am, the girls informed us that they were headed for Garlands @ Eden, for which they had free passes. Mark and I decided to go too, but by this stage Matt was fast losing the plot. He was telling Mark something about a guy called Neil who he claims waved at him from a bus. The fact that Neil was back in Belfast really didn’t matter to Matt, and Mark and I decided that it was in the best interests of everyone involved that we leave Matt in the apartment. We got in a taxi with the two girls and went to Eden, but Mark and me were on a mission to the West End to find some free entry passes. Eventually we did find them, but not before it seemed like we would have to pay the entry fee, which at around €25, and at 4am, was a bit too much.
Eden wasn’t bad, but the girls quickly disappeared and we ended up dancing for a while until we got physically tired. Sonique and Brandon Block were on, and we said hello to Sonique as she left the DJ box, although I’m not sure what she made of us! We got back around 6am, and Matt was nowhere to be seen. The state we had left him in meant that this was a worrying situation, but he eventually arrived back about half an hour later. Apparently he had come round to himself a bit after we left, and had walked along the bay, calling at various bars and having drinks, whilst looking for us. Eventually he gave up, and on his way back to the apartment, met Lee, the guy who I had first met on Monday. Apparently Lee was a bit the worse for wear, and was ranting and raving, albeit not actually being aggressive. Matt ended up back at the apartment. Lee then disappeared and that was when Matt returned to the apartment where Mark and me had been waiting, worried about our spaced out friend. Just then, a guy knocked at our door, and we let him in. He was from Northern Ireland, and told us he had been at Pacha for the night. We offered him a drink, he was a friendly enough guy, but he told us that some weird dude was in his apartment with a friend of his who was also staying in the apartment. We decided that this could only be Lee, so we made our way down. When we got into the room, there was Lee, talking shit to the other guy. We took a shot of the most god-awful absinthe I have ever-tasted (80% a.b.v. I believe), made our excuses, and left. About 20 minutes later there was another knock at the door. It was Lee and the guy from downstairs, asking if we had Lee’s mobile phone. We didn’t, and told him this. But it seemed the real reason the guy had brought Lee upstairs was to get him out of his apartment. Lee then went to the balcony and threw something over the side, while shouting incoherently. Matt’s eyes lit up, and I wondered why. When Lee finally staggered out of the apartment, Matt jumped over onto the 6ft wide ledge, which was on the other side of the balcony and brought back in what Lee had thrown over the side. Nice one. Anyway, we went to bed at about 8am.
Wednesday 10th September
Again, I don’t know what time we got up at, but it was most likely late afternoon. The daytime was a non-event almost certainly spent drinking or wandering about the area buying water and papers. I went to the bar across the way to watch the England match. They beat Liechtenstein 2-0, with the boy wonder Wayne Rooney scoring a great volley. Mark and Matt decided to go and have some much needed food, and joined me towards the end of the game. We then set off at about 11pm to Coastline, which I really enjoyed during this holiday, and was definitely my favourite pre-club bar. We stayed until the end, at around 2.30am, and made our way to Eden. Lashed was great for 2 reasons. I’m not a big hard house fan, but the sound system in Eden really made it, as the beat build ups and the crashing intros carried so much energy, it felt a waste to sit down for any length of time. We got our photo taken by 2 guys with a camera and were told to pay €8 for each copy, to be picked up at Mambo the following night. We kept going until A-Star played the last tune of the night, hurried into it by the club owner who had a quiet word in his ear. Anne Savage was also walking about chatting to people, although I didn’t think it was a good idea to attempt to hold a conversation with her given the way I felt. We staggered outside at 6.30am with all the others who managed to stay the distance, and got a taxi home. I’m not sure if we stayed up or went to bed, but nothing really sticks in my mind so we probably just went to bed.
Thursday 11th September
Don’t know what time we got up on Thursday (as usual). Again, the daytime was used for recuperation and not much more. Thursday was to be another ‘quiet’ night. One thing I’ve learned from this holiday, is that if you plan a quiet night in Ibiza, you’re asking for it big time.
We planned a night out in the West End, cheap drinks et al. We went to Mambo first to pick up the photos from Eden, with hilarious results. The pictures were terrible quality, although on second thoughts, the fact that they are in a soft focus might have been beneficial, as it looks like me and Mark had just picked Matt up off the floor.
We then had a drink in Coastline, which was absolutely packed for the Cream pre-party. We decided to go to the West End, and headed up the main street, where we were accosted by a crazy black guy wearing an American flag bandana. He did some weird dance and put on an equally weird voice to entice us into a place called Gorm’s Garage. I’m sure we weren’t the only people this summer he was successful with, solely because of his antics, and not the drinks he had promised us. On our way into Gorm’s Garage, we passed another flier guy for the place who whispered something. Again, Matt’s eyes lit up. Also, my older brother Steven was coming over with 2 friends the next night. Gorm’s Garage was quite good, music was a little commercial but it was a nice atmosphere and not too full, plus it was only €3 for a small bottle of San Miguel, a shot of schnapps, and a glass of what was apparently ‘Sex on the Beach’, although I’ve tasted stronger water. Mark was then overcome by raging testosterone, and decided that he wanted to go to a local strip club, ‘Rumours’ for a private dance. Me and Matt duly followed, and sat in the corner, again each only getting up to go to the toilets. Mark got his private dance from some blonde bint with gravity defying breasts, although I felt that €25 would be more wisely spent elsewhere. Just as we were about to leave, a girl called ‘Brandy’ was introduced on the pole. To Mark’s absolute delight, this was one of the girls he had ogled all of Monday night, dancing in the pool at Coastline. Mark immediately borrowed money from Matt for another private dance, and came out with the cheesiest grin I have ever seen. Due to Mark’s financial deficiency, we decided to head back to the apartment at about 3 or 4am, where we sat up until about 2pm happily talking bullshit to each other. It was my decision, which was extremely hard for me to take, to eventually go to bed. This was the most uncomfortable sleep I had had during the holiday.
Everyone else, this is a heck of a read, but bear with it, cos its a bit funny in parts i hope lol.
Ibiza 2003
This is a review of my holiday to Ibiza 2003. We left at approx 9pm on Friday 5th September, arriving in Ibiza airport at approx 00.40am local time. Along with myself (21), my younger brother Mark (19) and his friend Matt (18), both Ibiza virgins, made the trip. Two weeks of lunacy ensued.
Friday 5th Sept
After waiting around about 8 months waiting for my 3rd trip to Ibiza, it was finally time to depart for the airport. Cases packed, Mark and me arrived to check in at about 7pm. We had arranged to meet Matt at the check in desk and seeing that he hadn’t arrived yet, we waited. And waited. And waited. Mark got more and more exasperated, with “Where is the dozy bastard? I f***ing told him 7 o’clock” being more or less the gist of his grievance. At around half seven, we decided to check in without him, and Mark decided to go to the main entrance of the airport building to wait for Matt. Then over the PA system came an announcement: “Could Mark Majury go to the information desk please”. I feared the worst as Mark came back inside.
“Was that my name?” Mark asked,
“Yep”.
We made our way up an escalator to the departure lounge, then down a set of stairs, round a corner, and finally found the information desk. “Are you Mark Majury?” the girl asked. I took the phone as she said my dad was on the line.
“Hello?”
“Paul, Matt just phoned the house there, he went to the wrong airport. He’s on his way up there now”.
Matt had gone to Belfast City airport, which doesn’t fly outside the UK. The correct airport, Belfast International, in which we were waiting, is about 20 miles away. Matt had 15 minutes to get here or miss the check in.
We made our way back around to the check in area, and with about 5 minutes to spare, Matt finally trudged through the automatic doors, to be greeted by a volley of abuse from the ever sympathetic Mark. Anyway, we checked in and because of his lateness, Matt ended up beside two very drunk and very loud fifty-somethings on the plane. Serves him right I suppose. The flight was non-eventful, but it felt great to finally be in the air and on my way to the White Isle.
I’d like to point out at this stage that this review will be given day by day, although each day will cover overnight on that date, i.e. Friday 5th September will cover the night of Friday and the early hours of Saturday morning, as to me, Friday night doesn’t end until it is light on Saturday morning.
So we touched down in Ibiza Airport at the expected time and picked up our cases. We met the reps that directed us to our coach, which we boarded. We sat right at the back and patiently waited for everyone else to get on board. Eventually at about 3am or so, we arrived at the Apart hotel Las Perlas, is San Antonio Bay. We had at this stage made an informed decision that we should go out as soon as we left our bags in. We were given the room number 404, on the top floor and at the end of the corridor, meaning we only had neighbours on one side. The room itself was a studio, 2 single beds and a bed-settee. Nothing special but no complaints.
Bags down, deodorant and aftershave on, we were ready to go out. We got a taxi into the West End, and immediately set about looking for some cheap drinks and some drugs. We sat at a bar called Capone’s I think, where the special offer seen us getting a pint of vodka and red-bull and two shots of schnapps for €4. We sat outside and were soon joined by about 4 lads from Dublin We went back to Capone’s as it seemed pretty quiet, and to get another pint of vodka and red bull. The rest of the night escapes me somewhat, but I know we were in Koppa’s at some stage, where Mark did a bit of drunken pole-dancing on the pole at the back, cheered on by a drunken crowd. Don’t ask me why I can only remember that bit though. We got back to the apartments at some stage, around 6am I believe, and I’m told I fell soundly asleep on the floor beside one of the beds. I can remember coming round and Matt telling me that he had lost his shoes on the night out somewhere. To this day he doesn’t remember how he came home without his shoes, or what happened to them, but this was a taster of what was to come. Mark was apparently in the pool in his boxer shorts with a group of lads from the Republic of Ireland somewhere. I thought it would be a good idea to join them, so I went down in a pair of swimming shorts, not realising that my wallet with euros and all was in my pocket. Anyway I think it might have been around 12pm on the Saturday afternoon that we all got to bed.
Saturday 6th September
I’m not sure what time we all got up, but Mark and Matt told me that they had made the 20 minute trek into the West End in the blistering sun, only to discover that most ‘looky-looky’ men take the daytime off. Mark says he was physically incapable of making the 2-mile or so walk back to the apartments, and they got a taxi. I was hungry and decided to head over to the Amsterdam Steak House (a big, not too expensive restaurant just across the road) for some dinner. I can remember sitting in the steak house, tucking into my chicken in black bean sauce, when I noticed someone dancing about on our balcony. Looking a bit closer through my still bleary eyes, I realised that it was Mark, clutching a litre bottle of San Miguel and shouting something. I laughed to myself, this was a really funny sight, and finished my food. As I walked back over towards the apartments, I began to be able to make out what Mark was shouting, or indeed chanting. “Macedoniaaaaa” was the cry. He was aiming this at the 50 or so England fans sitting in the bar opposite the apartments, and they looked none too pleased. A group of lads from Dublin sitting outside the apartments on a bench thought this was hilarious, as did I. I quickly made my way up to room 404, and joined in the fun. Most of the England fans saw the funny side, although a few looked none too pleased. We drank a bit more beer and made our plans for the evening. Mark decided that a combination of lack of sleep, too much beer, had got the better of him. He decided to stay in and around the hotel that night to get ready for the trip to Space the next day. Matt and me were going into the West End, as I wanted us up at 11am to go to Space. We arrived in the West End at about 11pm and I remembered a bar I had been to before called Strikers. In 2001, it had been 1500 pesetas for an hour’s free drinking. Vodka, Bacardi, Whiskey, Beer and mixers were all free for an hour. Again, the rest of the night escapes me, mostly due to the free drink in Strikers. I’m pretty sure we went somewhere else, and I’m told it rained, but I can just remember waking up at around 11.30am the next morning. I can’t remember how I got back, nor can Matt. Mark spent the evening in the ‘Queen Victoria’, a traditional and absolutely ridiculous English pub in the hotel. This opens from 12am – 3am, and will be touched upon in more detail a bit later on.
Sunday 7th September
I woke at about half eleven, and set about getting the other two out of their beds. Although I had been to Space before in 1999, I had never been to the much-hallowed ‘We Love Sundays’, and today was to be my first time. We got a taxi across to Space about 12pm (which cost €20) and made our way in for our free drink. The free vodka and lemon was rather refreshing and we stayed in the terrace for a few hours. Mark looked a bit miserable, complaining that he felt sick. I decided that €10 for a vodka and lemon wasn’t that bad, and proceeded to buy about another 4 of them. We went inside, as Mark wanted to sit down and try to chill out. This was when I discovered the X-Box consoles and some gamed called X-treme Beach volleyball. Probably more due to my current mental state, I stood at the X-Box for more than 45 minutes without actually playing a game of volleyball. Anyway Mark made a miraculous (albeit short) recovery and shot straight to the dance floor arms aloft, where I joined him. About 4pm, I realised that I had about enough money for another 3 vodka and lemons at the going rate, and we decided to use our armbands to full effect. We went to the beach, past Bora-Bora, and sat in a place called Pago-Pago Beach, where we chilled out and drank some reasonably priced vodka and red bull, entertained by some mangy cat that was wandering about the place. At around 8pm, we returned to Space, where we discovered the terrace was packed. We went inside and sat down for a while, but the heat was starting to get to me. I started getting a little freaked out and at about 11.30pm, when the terrace was about to close, Mark stood up and announced that he really didn’t feel well and was leaving. Although I wanted to try and stay until the death, I knew that with the terrace closing the inside would be even more packed, and that I would rather just go back to the apartments. So we left and got back around 12am. We went to the pool area and watched the worst karaoke display ever, before going to the ‘Queen Vic’. I found the whole Queen Vic experience quite surreal. It was all decked out in a traditional English style, with leather chairs and a dartboard. We tolerated this nonsense for around 2 hours before going back up to our room and drinking some cheap and pretty disgusting vodka. I think we all got to bed about 4 or 5 o’clock.
Monday 8th September
I’m not sure what time we all got up at on Monday, but it was around dinnertime. I was walking across the road to the super Mercado when a guy whispered something behind me.
This guy told me his name was Lee and gave me his phone number. Lee will feature a bit more later on during this review.
I decided that seeing as we were all pretty sober, we should go to the sunset strip and watch the evening’s sunset, which I reliably informed the others would take place at around 8.15pm. We got on a bus at about 7.50pm, and noticed to our alarm that the sun was dangerously low in the sky. We got off the bus at the egg, and ran most of the way up to Café del Mar. I think we made it just in time, although to be honest, we couldn’t tell, as the horizon was shrouded in a low cloud, turning the sunset into an orange haze. Not to be deterred, we made our way to the Coastline Café, and settled down to watch two beautiful bikini clad girls dancing in the knee-deep pool. The music was funky and great, and the pints were going down nicely. I even managed a chicken burger and chips, which at €4.50 was great value for money. At around 1 or 2am, most of the people around the pool were up dancing, and we joined them. At this stage we were all quite wasted and I informed them of the phrase ‘Throwing Shapes’ which referred to dancing. Neither Mark nor Matt had heard this phrase before and found it really funny. The evening descended into farce when we decided to have a ‘Shape Throwing Competition’ whereby the rules stated that we had to name a shape which had not previously been thrown by any of the other participants, make the shape as best as we could with our hands, and throw it. It was funny at the time, honestly. We stayed until Coastline closed, and while walking back up towards the West End, were accosted by a guy from a bar called Karma, who promised us a ludicrously cheap drink deal to come in. We did, and were awarded 2 pints of vodka and red bull, along with 2 shots of blackcurrant vodka each, for about €6. The place itself was quite small, but had good music, and a lot of girls playing pool and sitting around. Mark’s chat up line, which consisted of asking the girls back to our room for an orgy, proved ineffective, and after finishing our drinks, we left. We headed back to the apartments, where we drank more vodka. At around 6am, I informed Matt of the fact that Space would soon be opening for the Manumission Carry-On, and with enthusiasm, he decided we should go. In my drunken state, I agreed. Mark more sensibly decided on going to sleep.
Tuesday 9th September
Matt and me left for the walk into the West End at around 6.30am. We managed to find some ‘looky-looky’ men obviously putting in a bit of overtime. We sat at the Koppa’s Bar, which we were pleased to discover stayed open all night. After a few drinks we got into a taxi and stated our destination. The girl driving the taxi told us that Space didn’t actually open until 8am, which we were quite surprised about. The fact that the girl could have made a €20 taxi fare to take us to Space an hour before opening, but decided to tell us that we were too early, was refreshing honesty. We walked to the apartments and waited until 8am, when we ordered a taxi and went to Space. Even in the taxi I began to start doubting the decision to go across to Space. We got to Space and paid €35 for entry, €25 more than those who had been to Manumission. I began to dance and enjoy myself. As with a lot of other times on the trip, as soon as one of us really started having a good time, the other suffered the opposite effect. Matt started complaining of really bad stomach pains and I knew deep down that we wouldn’t be staying very long. I think it was around 11am that I decided we should go home. Another €20 taxi ride meant that we had spent €55 each for 3 hours in Space.
We got Mark up when we got back, which he wasn’t too pleased about. We were sitting around in the room listening to music and drinking the cheap vodka (€5.40 for a litre), when we heard a knock at the door. We had to tidy up a bit, as the maid called at really unusual times throughout the holiday and was a complete bitch. Finally Matt opened the door to be greeted by an English guy called Mark, who was friends with Lee (See Monday). This guy was given a hero’s reception. Tuesday night was to be a non-event, with our plans reading along the lines of a quiet drink at a few local bars, before a few hours in the shambles that was the Queen Vic. Again, in keeping with the theme of the holiday, this proved not to be the case.
We found a bar a bit further out in the Bay called the Florida Park, which I had been to on my previous trip in 2001. It was buy one get one free on all drinks all night, but as with most of the first drinks out, they went very slowly. Tonight was Matt’s turn to feel sick (although the fact that he had had no sleep since Monday afternoon played a major part), although Mark and I had a backup plan to liven us up if the necessity arose. Indeed it did, as with us on a rate of around a pint every half hour, we decided the night wasn’t moving along as we had planned. We watched the Ireland v Turkey match. A bit later Mark and me had one of the two disagreements we had on the whole holiday, which as brothers wasn’t bad. I stormed off and returned to the apartment. I met 2 girls from Northern Ireland in the apartments who were staying across the corridor. I decided to show the girls the photos we had taken during the first 3 days, and had gotten developed earlier on Tuesday, and they were amused but probably a little more worried by what they saw. Mark and Matt returned and we settled our earlier differences. The 2 girls sat in our apartments and had some awful vodka. At around 3am, the girls informed us that they were headed for Garlands @ Eden, for which they had free passes. Mark and I decided to go too, but by this stage Matt was fast losing the plot. He was telling Mark something about a guy called Neil who he claims waved at him from a bus. The fact that Neil was back in Belfast really didn’t matter to Matt, and Mark and I decided that it was in the best interests of everyone involved that we leave Matt in the apartment. We got in a taxi with the two girls and went to Eden, but Mark and me were on a mission to the West End to find some free entry passes. Eventually we did find them, but not before it seemed like we would have to pay the entry fee, which at around €25, and at 4am, was a bit too much.
Eden wasn’t bad, but the girls quickly disappeared and we ended up dancing for a while until we got physically tired. Sonique and Brandon Block were on, and we said hello to Sonique as she left the DJ box, although I’m not sure what she made of us! We got back around 6am, and Matt was nowhere to be seen. The state we had left him in meant that this was a worrying situation, but he eventually arrived back about half an hour later. Apparently he had come round to himself a bit after we left, and had walked along the bay, calling at various bars and having drinks, whilst looking for us. Eventually he gave up, and on his way back to the apartment, met Lee, the guy who I had first met on Monday. Apparently Lee was a bit the worse for wear, and was ranting and raving, albeit not actually being aggressive. Matt ended up back at the apartment. Lee then disappeared and that was when Matt returned to the apartment where Mark and me had been waiting, worried about our spaced out friend. Just then, a guy knocked at our door, and we let him in. He was from Northern Ireland, and told us he had been at Pacha for the night. We offered him a drink, he was a friendly enough guy, but he told us that some weird dude was in his apartment with a friend of his who was also staying in the apartment. We decided that this could only be Lee, so we made our way down. When we got into the room, there was Lee, talking shit to the other guy. We took a shot of the most god-awful absinthe I have ever-tasted (80% a.b.v. I believe), made our excuses, and left. About 20 minutes later there was another knock at the door. It was Lee and the guy from downstairs, asking if we had Lee’s mobile phone. We didn’t, and told him this. But it seemed the real reason the guy had brought Lee upstairs was to get him out of his apartment. Lee then went to the balcony and threw something over the side, while shouting incoherently. Matt’s eyes lit up, and I wondered why. When Lee finally staggered out of the apartment, Matt jumped over onto the 6ft wide ledge, which was on the other side of the balcony and brought back in what Lee had thrown over the side. Nice one. Anyway, we went to bed at about 8am.
Wednesday 10th September
Again, I don’t know what time we got up at, but it was most likely late afternoon. The daytime was a non-event almost certainly spent drinking or wandering about the area buying water and papers. I went to the bar across the way to watch the England match. They beat Liechtenstein 2-0, with the boy wonder Wayne Rooney scoring a great volley. Mark and Matt decided to go and have some much needed food, and joined me towards the end of the game. We then set off at about 11pm to Coastline, which I really enjoyed during this holiday, and was definitely my favourite pre-club bar. We stayed until the end, at around 2.30am, and made our way to Eden. Lashed was great for 2 reasons. I’m not a big hard house fan, but the sound system in Eden really made it, as the beat build ups and the crashing intros carried so much energy, it felt a waste to sit down for any length of time. We got our photo taken by 2 guys with a camera and were told to pay €8 for each copy, to be picked up at Mambo the following night. We kept going until A-Star played the last tune of the night, hurried into it by the club owner who had a quiet word in his ear. Anne Savage was also walking about chatting to people, although I didn’t think it was a good idea to attempt to hold a conversation with her given the way I felt. We staggered outside at 6.30am with all the others who managed to stay the distance, and got a taxi home. I’m not sure if we stayed up or went to bed, but nothing really sticks in my mind so we probably just went to bed.
Thursday 11th September
Don’t know what time we got up on Thursday (as usual). Again, the daytime was used for recuperation and not much more. Thursday was to be another ‘quiet’ night. One thing I’ve learned from this holiday, is that if you plan a quiet night in Ibiza, you’re asking for it big time.
We planned a night out in the West End, cheap drinks et al. We went to Mambo first to pick up the photos from Eden, with hilarious results. The pictures were terrible quality, although on second thoughts, the fact that they are in a soft focus might have been beneficial, as it looks like me and Mark had just picked Matt up off the floor.
We then had a drink in Coastline, which was absolutely packed for the Cream pre-party. We decided to go to the West End, and headed up the main street, where we were accosted by a crazy black guy wearing an American flag bandana. He did some weird dance and put on an equally weird voice to entice us into a place called Gorm’s Garage. I’m sure we weren’t the only people this summer he was successful with, solely because of his antics, and not the drinks he had promised us. On our way into Gorm’s Garage, we passed another flier guy for the place who whispered something. Again, Matt’s eyes lit up. Also, my older brother Steven was coming over with 2 friends the next night. Gorm’s Garage was quite good, music was a little commercial but it was a nice atmosphere and not too full, plus it was only €3 for a small bottle of San Miguel, a shot of schnapps, and a glass of what was apparently ‘Sex on the Beach’, although I’ve tasted stronger water. Mark was then overcome by raging testosterone, and decided that he wanted to go to a local strip club, ‘Rumours’ for a private dance. Me and Matt duly followed, and sat in the corner, again each only getting up to go to the toilets. Mark got his private dance from some blonde bint with gravity defying breasts, although I felt that €25 would be more wisely spent elsewhere. Just as we were about to leave, a girl called ‘Brandy’ was introduced on the pole. To Mark’s absolute delight, this was one of the girls he had ogled all of Monday night, dancing in the pool at Coastline. Mark immediately borrowed money from Matt for another private dance, and came out with the cheesiest grin I have ever seen. Due to Mark’s financial deficiency, we decided to head back to the apartment at about 3 or 4am, where we sat up until about 2pm happily talking bullshit to each other. It was my decision, which was extremely hard for me to take, to eventually go to bed. This was the most uncomfortable sleep I had had during the holiday.
