OlderYouth's Proper Review

OlderYouth

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I hope you like it.

let me know if you have any questions, and I will gladly answer them.

Older Youth’s First and Second Trips to Ibiza!!

Well, let me put this in context. This summer I was lucky enough to get the opportunity to travel throughout Europe. I spent 7 weeks there, arrived in Edinburgh on 17 July and left Ibiza on the 15th of September.

PART ONE: 6 – 10, leaving morning of 11, August 2008

I first got to the island on 6 August. Took the bus to Sant Antony de Pomany, was a bit disappointed as I thought I’d be staying in Ibiza town, but soon decided not to let that ruin my time in the “Clubber’s Mecca.”

So I finally find my hotel/hostal place (Don Juan on C. de Santa Agnes) after asking for directions a couple of times from the cuties working the CD/t-shirt/club ticket store. Was told to show up early for PvD at Cream the next day. Ended up buying a ticket to LaTroya@Space. Went to dinner, back to shower/shave and get ready. Showed up at Space at around 10:30 or 22:30, rather. Waited for a while watching traffic and other clubbers go by and then was joined by three French women. Well, two French women and one French girl. I have no idea how old the girl was. I knew just enough French and she knew just enough English for us to hit it off for about an hour or so before they open up the club. So I get in my line and she waits with me, and they don’t let her in. She’s there with her mother and her mother’s best friend. I’m already being ushered in and was patted down once. I thought of jumping off the steps over the railing, and onto the ground to run and catch her while screaming her name, but as I’m deciding whether to do this or not I look up and see a gorgeous brunette motioning me to come over to her with her finger. She’s security and I get frisked. I once again open my sunglasses case to reveal my sunglasses. She says "okay go", and the guard behind her who was searching someone else did not notice her search me and I am patted down yet again. I start to feel bad for not going after the girl, but then realized that if she is too young for the doorman at Space, she is probably too young for me, really, and I decide that I should go for the doorwoman, or someone like her.

Well, I have a couple of drinks, people are smoking, and I’m asthmatic. I manage to find a little side bar that only has a few people, who don’t look old/er to me but are noticeably more seasoned than the rest of the crowd. After another drink, time spent trading jokes with the bartender, and getting the inside scoop on how to order drinks when I’m out and about (I was a bartender for a little while and a waiter for more than a little while in college, and I’m glad to see that the camaraderie enjoyed by myself and my co-workers during that time is alive and well in other parts of the world.) After a while my new friend started to get busy, and I was a bit full so went to the can. (Can= NorAm slang for bathroom.) As I come out of the bathroom, some one was walking but stopped to light a cigarette and ended up blowing the first puff nearly right in my face as I exited the bathroom. I immediately felt that pain and retreated into the bathroom. Not two seconds a bouncer comes in. Sees me use my inhaler. Takes me off to the side, and reminds me to raise my arms. His brother or someone has asthma, too, so he knew what to do. He said if I ever needed anything else or if someone blew smoke in my face again to let him know. Space was becoming one of my favorite places.

So I went to dance some more, got tired of the smoke, and so left (my lungs hurt, and I’m allergic to tobacco. Not as bad as I am to other things, but still). I walked around PDB for a while and then took the bus back to San An. I was exhausted after having woken up at 7am to get to the airport/make the flight in Barcelona.


So, I go back to my room. The next day I wake up but am too early for the ticket delivery and so decide to go to the beach. I eventually get my ticket to see Paul van Dyk.
I decide not to go out as early, and pre-game in the West End. Found a little hole in the wall called Babylon. I walk in, and there’s this guy, and he says “Can I help you?”

He seemed a bit shocked at my appearance, and how I must have looked to him, in typical Virginian going out in the summer time weather. I think I decided against shorts, since I’m used to a dress code. A rather strict one, actually, in most places. So I wear my black dress shirt and black sunglasses. The sunglasses, because, you know, it’s Ibiza. I took my sunglasses, thought it’d be cool in a Corey Hart flashback kind of way.

So I take off my wayfarers and say “I’d just like a drink” but they aren’t open yet, so the guy, who I found out later is a PR, and I stand around shooting the sh*t, and we get on the topic of what is good to drink. He asks what I drink and I say, which is true, “Chopin, Grey Goose, Kettle One, or other potato only vodkas.” I forget what he says, but a typically generic comment about either being a snob or having high class/taste or whatever. And so, since I’ve had no one to tell this to the entire time I was in Europe, I told him. I looked him right in the eye and told him the horrible, horrible truth: I am allergic to malt. Among other things, including grapes, so beer and wine is right out, altogether, as are most other drinks.

After a few minutes of Brainstorming, and me listing off things I’m allergic, he suggests Malibu. Hooray. I can drink something, even if it is a girl’s drink. He asked the bartender what he had to mix and the bartender said Pineapple juice. The PR guy looked at me and before he could ask I said, “NO! Please, I’m allergic.” So Malibu and diet coke light it was.

Then I make it Cream, and order Malibu. I think I got a discount. Anyway, it was awesome. And I found my first laughing gas station. I took a couple of balloons and the girl asked how I could do that if I had asthma. I put my sunglasses back on and said “because I AM THE BLACK KNIGHT OF THE HOLY DISCO disco disco disco disco disco……” and danced off.

She cracked up. I don’t think I’ve ever made a girl laugh more, not before then anyway. I got one more and she told me to be sure to come and visit her again before I left. Her friend the other girl was walking around and I helped pick up some of the left over balloons. Not hard work, and got me more brownie points.

At around 4 or so I left, dead tired. I went back to the hostal to sleep.


I get up in the morning early, because I want to go scuba diving. I get out to where we are going and suffer a panic attack and can’t control my breathing too well; I think I’m freaked out by the wait of the suit and the equipment. There was a doctor on board, thankfully, and advised me to take my medications and to not skip them just because I was on vacation. (I hadn’t had it in a few days actually). So I wait on the boat and then they come up and I’m determined to actually do it the next day.

I get back to the harbor and grab lunch, then crash. I wake up and just go out to a few bars. It was Friday, and I thought it would be busier, but it’s just like any other day. Was planning on going to Eden but was told not to bother, as it was too late for Groove Armada. So I mostly just drank. Malibu. Decided not to look for anything else. Went to a few bars then back to the hotel so I could get up for scuba diving.

I did it; I was ten meters under the water!! Hooray!!

That was tiring. I got back to the room, ate some food, took a nap, woke up went to dinner and went out. Went to every bar on the street I was staying at for at least one drink each. Then went to Subway. Got my food and sat down, felt lonely. Then came Dan. Dan is one of the friendliest, most sincere people I’ve ever met in my life. He cheered me up, as I was beginning to feel quite lonely. So he invites me to another bar after we finish eating. Is impressed I’m in Ibiza and Europe on my own. Surprised to learn I’m from Virginia, as that is where his cousin studied, he revealed when we were at the bar. So, we’re waiting for his cousin, James. James shows up we shoot the breeze for a while and then it’s time to leave. James is ready to crash so goes back home/ to his place. Dan and I go to Hush, for drinks. It doesn’t dawn on my until later that same night that James, Dan’s cousin who studied in Virginia, is one and the same as James, the Kappa Sigma brother that was in my public speaking class. Crap. I’m there all lonely, fate sends me an old friend, and I’m too drunk to realize it till later.

After a few drinks and balloons at Hush, I’m almost ready to call it a day. Tomorrow is the last day in Ibiza.

I wake up and start with the party. I chill for a while then grab some grub. No sign of James or Dan anywhere, but I go back to Hush and meet the other guys who were there with us. I told one of them of how I knew James and he said he would tell him my old college nickname, who I was (Billy Blaze the Theta Chi, if anyone was wondering). And then I took a balloon, and a drink. I was making small talk at the bar with the bartenders and all of sudden the place got packed. It was a bit early still and the crowds were just coming. So people start smoking and I grab my inhaler. About an hour passes and I’m tired of being blown smoke on. The balloon girl comes back but the bartender says NO!

I ask, “Why?”
“Why? Because you’ve been hitting your inhaler like its lines for the past hour.”
So I order another drink, be sure to tip well, and then wander off into the night. My lungs felt better, so I went to a few other bars and then back to my room, showered, got food, chilled, showered again, laid down for a few hours to nap, showered a third time and then went back out. It was around 2 or 3 am, I think. I went to Hush again and was tipped off there was cheaper gas right by the Jamaican place, or in the Jamaican/Marley themed place or near by. So I partied there for a bit and met a beautiful woman from South London, a uni student studying management. Hung out with her and her friends, she said she couldn’t leave them, since they had no guys, and I think she might have a boyfriend back home or something, but she said it was nice to have met me and wished me luck for Greece, because that is where I was flying the next day.

ONE THING THAT HAPPENED AND I DON’T KNOW WHEN:

I was walked back to my hostel by a group of very concerned persons, British. English, I think, but one may have been from Cornwall or someplace. Anyway, someone said “you ready to get out of here then” to me, and I said, yeah we can go back to mine for tea and biscuits. He laughed and said wait here. I waited he came back with his girlfriend, another couple, and I think maybe one more person.

Anyway, we get back to mine and I’m all “let’s go, let’s do this then, tea and biscuits for everyone.”

“Do you really have tea and biscuits? You really are an Anglophile.”
“Right mate, I’ll be back down.”

Not a single one there caught my pun. The other boyfriend did when I wasn’t carrying anything visible. We had some tea, but no biscuits, and I was told that I was too generous, and should probably best go to bed.

I thanked them and did so. It must have been the 8th this happened.

If anyone reads this and thinks that it’s them, please get in touch. I am very sorry if I ever offended you. I can’t really remember what was said/what was talked about.

THUS ENDS PART ONE

PART TWO WILL FOLLOW……..now

PART TWO: 10-14 September 2008

Part Two needs a bit of explanation as well. I was in Amsterdam the days before this time, and while there I used a corrupted ATM/Geld automat/Cash Machine/Caxias. Some one had fitted a black film strip into the place where the card goes. I yank and yank on my card to get it back, but being rather Naïve, I simply leave the film strip in a trash can. Mistake. Then I hear this guy come running after me, saying two guys just stole it from the trash can and I have to go get it back from them and he would help. So I figure, yeah, okay, why not? Culprits got away; polilite took my information and said he would file it when he got back to the station. Nothing really he could do about it, except provide proof to my bank that I indeed reported the incident.

For those that don’t know/wouldn’t think to do something like this, black, blank film strips are put into little used, little security, cash machines. If done 100% properly, the card will remain stuck in the machine, to be retrieved by whoever put the film strip in there, the person assuming that he needs to get a new card anyway. He does. The film strip is used to make a double sided imprint of the card. Then they make counterfeit cards and sell them to a country far away. They actually made two; one went to my commonwealth, the other to Texas. The only purchases that were not in Europe were at gas stations; presumably pay at the pump ones where no one is there to check to see if the names match. Purchases were made on the same day in Texas, Virginia, and Amsterdam. They blocked the card for all uses, but I was told I could call the same number anytime I needed to get money.

So, I’m at the airport in Ibiza, and on the phone with bank rep. and I get a few hundred Euros to last the first few days. So I get in a cab as the busses have stopped coming, its 2:30AM already. I go to where my hostal is. Not the same one as before. So what, still within crawling distance of what I was starting think of the best bars in San An, some of the best anyway, and most were right near to each other. I booked online and was really looking forward to Privilege. I met two Spanish guys in Berlin who said they’d be there that night, so I could at least find a couple of drinking buddies. But, the hotel had lost my reservation. I was put up in Hotel Formentara, right next to a restaurant/lounge/bar that has a golden Buddha vibe to it. Also a small, cozy, and breath-taking beach was right there. A few more blocks to walk each time, and my pervious MO of stopping after every three or four drinks to just chill at the hotel or go walking with friends or whatever changed as it was too far away for all that.

So I change clothes and shower, and too late for Privilege (nearly 4 and have been on the phone w/ well, not with the bank, but with customer service call center that is hired out/maybe affiliated with the bank, but really isn’t the bank, no one there was a banker, no one could tell me in the terms of the finance industry what was going on. I am the Accounting Manager of my firm. In Europe I learned that the European counterpart for that job would be called Finance Director. I really, really objected to the way at which I was being spoken. Not just the from the ATM guy the first time, he was alright, but fed me information that turned out to be false. More later.

I go out to a few bars, got a few drinks and a balloon or seven and decided that that was it, I had to go back to the hotel. I passed out from exhaustion and slept well into the next day, not even knowing what it was. I took breakfast easy and then went back to the room, trying to use the atm again until tomorrow. I switched on the TV.

Sh*t. I completely forgot what today was.

I dress as appropriately as I can given the paradoxical juxtaposition of my current situation. I walk to the bar where I felt things would go over the best. I was right. I walk through the door, out of respect, although I could have easily entered through the open windows and tables were. I walked up to the bar, and trying to block the images in my head from 7 years earlier, I mustered my most professional, most correct North American Standard…”Good evening. I’ll have a Malibu and coke light, please.”

“One Malibu and Cola Light.”
I had him the money and tell him to take one for him self.

“So…are you Canadian or American.”

“American. Sorry, I don’t mean to be in a bad mood, it’s just that on this day…”

“Wife leave you on this day? Did someone die?”

“Yeah someone died, about 40,000 altogether. In the Twin Towers, In the Pentagon, a lot of people died.”

“Oh **** it’s the 11th of September.”

I talked to him for a while, he did his best make me smile and it worked, great man. A few of us there drank to NATO. Then, when the workers came to fill out their survey, I felt more and more out of place, but had a few at one of my favorite places.

After the bartender told his boss who I was, and why I was there, I started talking with him just about stuff, and it is discovered that despite my looks, I’m actually of preferable age for hiring for bars and clubs on the island. I mentioned in passing that this bar was like cheers, which I could always count on being served a good drink without too much of a wait, and even when it got busy, the workers and regulars were still having a good time. We talked about entertainment/service industry type things for a while, and because of my unfortunate cheers reference, coupled with being from NORth aMerica, the nickname of “Norm” was now used when I entered that place on the top of the hill on Carre de Santa Agnes. I left once the age/experience/frame of mind interest got to be too much and the people I was talking to the most had to go for work.

I drank at several places, but was having a time getting drunk. Even when you get a really friendly bartender that you’ve gotten on your side, who measures more and more generously each time she pours, and even if those drinks are buy one get one free, and you end up double fisting and then slamming one of the drinks and then drinking the other not fast but not slow, and then going back for a couple of more rounds, you can only get so drunk from Malibu. And then once you are drunk, you need water, because that is sugary, and your head will be nailed to the pillow when wake up. So I switch to water and start to walk back home. It’s almost midnight, so I stop in at one last bar. I see a girl there and start to stare, not on purpose; it’s just that…she looks just like the other girl. The girl who was friendly and outgoing and tried to get different people together in the same group because it was college and that’s how college should be. The attacks were announced. This girl went quiet. Didn’t call anyone, didn’t do anything. I found her walking around looking lost. I kind of knew her before this but not really. She latched both of her arms around me and wouldn’t let go. I can’t describe the position, she was standing, sort of leaning and was pressed very tight against my body. Crying. She cried for longer than I’ve ever seen anyone cry. She made me go get another shirt as the one I had been wearing was at this point completely soaked. I gave her the one she was crying on. I let her keep it to. She looked up at me and said that her father had died. They hadn’t released any names or anything, but this girl just knew. It was confirmed a few days later. I think she ended up going home, and then transferred to help her mom with stuff if she needed anything. So that’s the girl I’m thinking of.

Even getting eyed by the pretty English girls isn’t breaking me out this all together. I start dancing. I start dancing and thinking of my friends who are at war. I don’t want to feel this way at all, in Ibiza. I realized that I owed it, not just to myself, but to countless others besides me, to have a great time. My friends at war would probably rather have been with in Ibiza than in Pakistan, Afghanistan and Iraq. I owe it to them to have fun. I thought of the little old man in Prague, dancing until he didn’t have any energy left, around one am told me, “I am dancing because the Communists, the Socialists. They don’t want me to dance. They don’t want the people to dance, they want to control all activity, and are scared by dancing, because they can’t control it.” That man would want me to have a good time and dance. That is what I came here to do. I glanced at my watch. After midnight. My period of mourning was officially over. And the 12 of September, was once again declared Alliance Day. It was declared thus, unofficially, back in 2001, when the calls of support from NATO and even non-NATO countries sent our state department. Pretty much standard, you might think, but diplomatic correspondence generally takes longer than that. A well-written letter has to be crafted, approved, proof-read for errors in the native language, and then translated, proof-read, and sent to the country for which it’s intended. The rapid response from everyone really touched a lot of people, especially those who follow diplomatic processes.

The second celebration of Alliance day was much more fun. In fact, after the initial toasts, and “glad you’re here, Yank”s and all that fun stuff, I made a game out of it. I tried to find different NATO Ally countries that had visitors in Sant Antony. I found mostly English, and after a while stopped playing. Then I went to Hush to hang out for a while and then back to bed. I get back and notice this little shop is open. It was the one I went to earlier, to get some water. The little girl working there was standing beside the door as I entered. I walk to the back.

“Hola.” I heard a sweet timid voice.
“Agua fia, porva.” She giggled. I walked to the front. Bought a lighter so that I could learn the name it in Catalan. I forget. She laughed a little more when I tried to pronounce what she had called it.

Then I decide to pay, pay her for the water, and as I’m collecting my change, wallet, etc. and making sure everything is okay in my pockets, she heads back out to where she was sitting and reading.

“Buenos Notches,” I say, with a tip of my head and a wink.
She giggles at that, and pretty much every other thing I say. Then she stands up and is close to me, and is looking up at me with the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. We both take a step towards each other and I touch her cheek. I start to lean in just as some drunken tourists decide they need something from the same little shop. She told me to wait so I waited. Then she came back out we talked some more and she then saw a line coming, a different groups of tourists and locals that needed water, bananas, whatever after the bars. She said she had to work but to come back another day, when her mom didn’t have to take her home. I came back everyday, and certainly every night/evening. No sign of the goddess that was there to save me from some lonely conditions. Oh well. I was actually in a good mood, which hasn’t happened on that day in a while.

I woke up and tried to go the banks to get a cash advance but they were all closed. I called the bank service number and was told I could not under any circumstances withdraw anymore money, because that could make a suspect of the fraud case. I was told that even though I was on an island off the cost of Spain, and could be tracked by the computer where purchases were being made, it went against policy for them to let me use my atm again. They wanted to rush ship me a new card, per corporate policy. I told them where I was and it was determined it would take longer for the new card to reach me in “Spain” than I would actually be there. She made a note of all of this in her system, and then went to look for her supervisor to see if I could get the block lifted for about five minutes, since these were rather unusual and pressing circumstances. I waited on hold for about 20 – 30 mins. and then hung up. I called back later, finally spoke to someone who seemed to care about the person she was talking to, and I got the full allotment of what I was allowed to take. Not much for Ibiza really, but still, not bad because the pills on the island at this time all had coke, to which I’m terribly allergic, so none of them. I didn’t do anything except smoke and drink. And laughing gas. I made 800E last four days.

Friday evening I’m a bit board. I didn’t want to go out of Sant Antony in an effort to save Euros, so I got a discounted ticket to Eden. Then I went to dinner and out to pre-game. I went to Plastik and Bar M and all that. Met some great lads named Mark and James, from England. Near Leicester, if I can recall correctly. We went to a few bars together, I peaced out after having too much to drink to soon, and went for a walk, chilled at the room, and go ready for the night-time proper.

Friday night I went to Wonderland @ Eden. It was awesome. The crowd was buzzing, and the back room was getting tighter and tighter until a very familiar looking DJ gave me what I thought was a wink. The DJs, two I noticed, working very well together, played and for their first two or maybe even three, no one really did anything. Just staring. And then, as clear as day, I heard the song that almost gaurantees euphoric dancing….enter in the club, plug it in and we begin….and the place went absolutely nuts. It was good to know how many people know who was playing that night. I had a hunch, but had to ask.

“Yes,” someone said, after the rather dumb question of mine had been asked.

Yeah, that’s right, from all accounts, I was seeing, dancing to, and absolutely loving… the special appearance of Groove Armada!! I had to pinch myself to wake up. I didn’t wake up. I danced my ass off. I met up with Mark and James; it was their last night on the island. They were having a ball. We did some more balloons together.

I decided it was time to leave when my shirt was rubbing up against me uncomfortably.

The next day I did as little as possible. Mostly just chilled and then drank my Malibu. I don’t really like the stuff. It tastes like cocoanuts and is incredibly weak. Then night time comes around and I say to hell with it, I’ve been good. I ration out an extra 50 for my cash that night. Keeping different amounts in different pockets didn’t really work out that well the night before. It would all be in my wallet except the 5s and coins. That was in a special pocket.

I went to Soldiers @ Privilege. I opted to buy an advanced ticket as it was 10 Euros. I thought that seemed fair. I got on the bus to go to it, was told I did not have a ticket. That I had a flyer for the event. I was directed to the freestanding place where you can purchase tickets.

I explain that I had the flyer; she asked where I bought it. I told her. She gives me a ticket. Nice.

I go into the club and make fast friends with the balloon girl. (we don’t have it here, and it seemed a much better buy at 5E a balloon as compared to 17E for a drink.) And then I bought a drink. I had a couple drinks there actually. And about 6 or 7 balloons. (My new favorite thing).

Then I went to Ibiza town, had drinks at some local bar. Wandered about, couldn’t find anything of interest that was still open except a local disco that looked like it was about to wind down for the night.

Then I got a cab back to San An. I partied at Plastik and Bar M again. Decided Bar M would go better as a package, like go there first and then some place else. That’s what people seemed to be doing anyway. So anyway, I wander up the strip, to the usual bars, got called Norm, and went to Hush. Balloon girls are some of the most interesting people to talk to. Then I walked back home, after a brief conversation with the Northern Irish guy there with whom I had made friends.

I passed by the shop where the most beautiful girl works. Catalan blue eyes standing in the fluorescent glow of human society. The primal darkness of our Mother Night envelopes us both, and I have never been closer to anyone, language doesn’t matter sometimes. It’s what is meant that counts.

No luck tonight, the store is closed.

Fell asleep, woke up, ate breakfast, went back to the room, slept, chilled, slept, and chilled. I was getting tired and realized I needed a break from all the partying. My cash situation what it was, a little better now that I realized I had some left over from last night.

And so I re-ration, take out what I think I’ll need for the travel day, and then the rest is for this one last night.

Nothing worth mentioning except I bought a ticket to Eden that came with a free cd. Judge Jules presents Judgment Sundays at Eden. I’m a sucker for blue eyes. I buy the ticket from the girl, and then go again reevaluate my funds. Still enough to reach my goal, and that’s that money right there. Not to be used for any other purpose.

So I go to pregame a bit but then head on into Eden. I’m not disappointed. I’m there early as the balloon girls are just getting sorted out. I have a couple of drinks and watch them; dance, and then finally, I can have some. I start with five. All singles, all for me. This is the one at the stand. She eventually tells me everything I need to do to make sure I get a job for next summer, as having me around was great. Anyway, I danced, drank and did balloons, and that night, I met my goal. I reached in my back pocket where I had been collecting my balloons instead of letting them fly all around. I took them out and counted. I had exactly 20 balloons. That was my goal. Time to go. I took my souvenirs and stuff back to the hotel. Packed up everything that I could carry, and got rid of anything I couldn’t.

I fell asleep with my clothes laid out.

In the morning I woke up, showered, threw the rest of my toiletries in my bag, collected everything and strapped it onto my backpack. Took a bus ride to Ibiza town and then a cab to the airport. The cabbie was enthusiastic about the States United. He had been when he was younger and wanted very much to go back. In Barcelona I got some food, and then flew home, plotting, planning, and dreaming of next year.
 
Very interesting,sort of reminds me of something! Glad to see not too much Nor Am slang.
Pity about the allergies,but really, your choice of drink...:eek: how could you do that all the time? Surely gin has no malt or grape content.
Not many reviews from first time SA goers has no mention of sunset strip/cdm,mambo type antics,unusual,but you did get some sleep,also unusual,good luck with the balloon habit btw...:!:
 
Lay off the gas badman, nice review though. Malibu is jank, Grey Goose is available from Mambo's for the reasonable price of about 250E. So your back there to work next summer ? What I wanna do is how does a Finance Director blag the time off to wedge off round Europe for a summer and potentially Ibiza next summer ?
 
weird.

all these ballons, malibus, coke lights and showering ...
review reminds me of a dark, bizarre and depressing movie,
a "film noir" like "blue velvet" ...
are you serious or was it only a bad lsd-trip-nightmare ?


I... “... Sorry, I don’t mean to be in a bad mood, it’s just that on this day…”
“Wife leave you on this day? Did someone die?”
“Yeah someone died, about 40,000 altogether.
In the Twin Towers, In the Pentagon, a lot of people died.”
“Oh **** it’s the 11th of September.”

what ?
40.000 ??
 
weird.

all these ballons, malibus, coke lights and showering ...
review reminds me of a dark, bizarre and depressing movie,
a "film noir" like "blue velvet" ...
are you serious or was it only a bad lsd-trip-nightmare ?




what ?
40.000 ??


I don't know the real number.

I didn't find Mambo until nearly the last day, the second time.

I want to go back to work because I'm bored with my job. I really want to be a musician, so I'll just concentrate on that.

And I was on business in Switzerland
 
Lay off the gas badman, nice review though. Malibu is jank, Grey Goose is available from Mambo's for the reasonable price of about 250E. So your back there to work next summer ? What I wanna do is how does a Finance Director blag the time off to wedge off round Europe for a summer and potentially Ibiza next summer ?


I mostly want to move because of that one girl.
 
Very interesting,sort of reminds me of something! Glad to see not too much Nor Am slang.
Pity about the allergies,but really, your choice of drink...:eek: how could you do that all the time? Surely gin has no malt or grape content.
Not many reviews from first time SA goers has no mention of sunset strip/cdm,mambo type antics,unusual,but you did get some sleep,also unusual,good luck with the balloon habit btw...:!:

gin is made from malt, i think

no, I didn't find mambo until one of the last days, the second time
wasn't really up to being around a bunch of teenagers/young college students who just get drunk and fight, or at least break glass all over the place. Usually unintentional, I think, but still. I'm done with all that.

What does it remind you of, if you don't mind me asking?

And the drink wasn't really my choice, was it? It was that or nothing.
 
Hey OY, nice review. Sorry about the difficulties you had but sounds like you're pretty philosophical about it.

Where in VA are you from? NoVA native here (DC suburbs)

Gin is made from grain, flavored by juniper berries.
 
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Hey OY, nice review. Sorry about the difficulties you had but sounds like you're pretty philosophical about it.

Where in VA are you from? NoVA native here (DC suburbs)

Gin is made from grain, flavored by juniper berries.


Yeah, I mean, you get to used to it, I guess.

I'm from Richmond, went to Radford for University. Where in NoVa are you from? I have lots of friends from there.
 
Yeah, I mean, you get to used to it, I guess.

I'm from Richmond, went to Radford for University. Where in NoVa are you from? I have lots of friends from there.
Part of my family is from Richmond, and I had friends who went to Radford... spent a lot of time down there. I'm from Fairfax.
 

No offence mate, but you sound a bit weird from that review!

Like a balloon obsessed sex pest!


I just found out what it means, and no I am not.

I don't just grab random women, in fact....you know what, it's not even worth mentioning really, but I partook in the complete opposite type of behavior.
 
all i could think of while reading this review was green velvet...flash:twisted:

so how was club bad?

Wouldn’t you know it, not here more than thirty seconds
and already I see a bad little kid doin’ bad little things,
he is sucking on a balloon,
now, this is not an ordinary balloon, parents,
it’s a balloon filled with the gas called nitrous oxide, laughing gas,
hi hi hi hi, ha ha,
but this is no laughing matter,
cameras ready, prepare to flash
 
I took a couple of balloons and the girl asked how I could do that if I had asthma. I put my sunglasses back on and said “because I AM THE BLACK KNIGHT OF THE HOLY DISCO disco disco disco disco disco……” and danced off.

If you said that to me I would have told you that you were full of hot air! :lol:

Anyway, I danced, drank and did balloons, and that night, I met my goal. I reached in my back pocket where I had been collecting my balloons instead of letting them fly all around. I took them out and counted. I had exactly 20 balloons. That was my goal.

Congratulations- mission accomplished! :lol:
 
Ha ha -- a history and exercise in randomness! As an older youth myself (a mere 41) I love ibiza for exactly that; you just don't know whats going to happen next or who you might meet! Hence always go on your own. The musts are always: to try something new; kiss a stranger; its never over before sunrise, and learn a bit more about yourself good or bad.

I'd recommend you go for Ibiza town though. The blue eyes more often both tend to look in the same direction on that part of the island.

Im a budding musician too (sax), and im back next summer, do you fancy seeing if we could earn a few drinks (but not malibu - please!!)?
 
Ha ha -- a history and exercise in randomness! As an older youth myself (a mere 41) I love ibiza for exactly that; you just don't know whats going to happen next or who you might meet! Hence always go on your own. The musts are always: to try something new; kiss a stranger; its never over before sunrise, and learn a bit more about yourself good or bad.

I'd recommend you go for Ibiza town though. The blue eyes more often both tend to look in the same direction on that part of the island.

Im a budding musician too (sax), and im back next summer, do you fancy seeing if we could earn a few drinks (but not malibu - please!!)?

I would be most definetly insterested. I might even learn how to spell things as well.

I'm always ready for some randomness. Wouldn't really be an adventure without it.

I went to the town a couple of times, but next time will def. stay there.
 
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