Phil_Dicko
Active Member
There is a weird phenomenon that occurs in my life which I'm sure happens to most people but that is so difficult to describe that it barely passes as intelligible conversation. Life, as a complete totality of memories, experiences, relationships, places, emotions and normalities and how those impress upon you in the here and now in your everyday life, can, on rare occasions, shift in what seems like an instant. I call it how life “feelsâ€. It's an impossibly personal thing to describe – but some days you wake up and, although nothing about your normal life has really changed, the totality of everything you perceive just feels completely different. For me, nothing has greater power in this regard than a trip to Ibiza. Arguably, the strength of the experiences you have in Ibiza, positive or negative, mean that normal life can never be perceived exactly as it was beforehand.
Going into Ibiza 2012, I knew that comparisons with previous holidays were always inevitable. 2009 was, bar one epic night at Privilege for Tiesto, a relative disaster. 2011 was, bar one night at Privilege where I went into collapse around 4/5am, the dream Ibiza experience. I had it in my head that 2012 would fill in all the gaps from 2011, that I would see more of the beauty of the island this year, see more beaches and sunsets.
In the end, it didn't quite work out like that and I only really have myself to blame. But if Ibiza 2012 was mighty short on sunsets and insights into the island's obvious mysticism, what it was not short on was alcohol, drugs and truly epic clubbing experiences. This was not a dull holiday. Nor, for me, was it a holiday ravaged by debilitating illness like 2009. In fact, thinking back, considering the extent to which I tested my own self-destructive tendencies this year, I should be grateful that I was still happy, healthy and raving it up come the final few days of the trip.
16 people really is an enormous group to have in a villa in Ibiza and I think a number of us realised subconsciously that this was a bit of milestone for our amazing group, particularly when you consider NR missed out so painfully the year previously.
A lot of people might cringe at the idea of having to mobilise a group of 15+ people, but thankfully, we have enough mature, self-less heads in the group to make it work. In particular, JW's use of the hire car for massive communal shops and WH, SM and CM's organisation of the food and shopping was nothing short of amazing. When your food and drink bill is amounting to little more than 5 Euros a day you know someone is doing something right. Our group managed to prove that if you're organised enough, Ibiza can actually be a much cheaper holiday than people generally believe is possible.
Inevitably though, with more Euros in your wallet when you leave the villa, the more comfortable you become laying down 30 Euros for a couple of drinks in the clubs. In the end, I spent a lot less than I anticipated this year, but the ratio of money given to the clubbing overlords compared to the small businesses of Ibiza would be a painful, even shocking, statistic.
The main problem for us having 16 people at our villa, and maybe it is the nicest problem to have - is not feeding everyone, it's not dealing with everyone's tiredness or potential mood swings, it's not the problem of people wanting to do different things (this side of things actually worked out really well) – it's actually the potential over-excitement that comes with being on the world's greatest island with so many of your good friends.
I took so many great memories from this holiday, and there were times when it really took me by surprise – but this holiday also struck me as a bit of a tipping point in terms of just how messy my clubbing experiences are getting these days. It's getting harder and harder to recover, so why the f*ck am I drinking so much?
When I posted my Requests Of The Villa Guests mix recently, I described this trip as “the messiest, blurriest Ibiza holiday on record†– a trip where we each took it in turns to run the Olympic relay of ‘getting yourself well and truly ****ed up'! You'll see what I mean.
MONDAY – Arrival, ASOT & 8am Drinking Games
6th of August 2012
When A State Of Trance was announced for Mondays, I always knew it was going to cause a bit of a problem. Everyone in the group, including myself, would want to see Armin again and I was particularly keen to show NR the biggest club in the world. Arriving at the villa on Monday, it was inevitably going to be a hectic day. In an ideal world, the first couple of nights are quite leisurely and chilled. This was going to be extra messy.
Myself, PH and JDR arrived at Manchester airport nice and early, had a nice bit of lunch and waiting patiently for our 3pm flight – Jet2 had already delayed it by half an hour. Knowing Jet2's reputation for delaying and cancelling flights, I had visions of us turning up at Privilege at some ridiculous hour and holding up the entire group. Thankfully, the half an hour delay was just that – half an hour.
I'd already warned PH and JDR that Ibiza flights could get fairly rowdy. This one didn't seem too bad, save for a group of airhead blondes from Fleetwood. They clearly didn't have a brain cell to share between them. I just slipped my headphones in and listened to Paul Oakenfold's Essential Mix. (Absolutely loved that by the way – good shout, Ikoda!)
JW had very kindly agreed to pick us up from the airport and we were there at the villa in Jesus by about 20 past 8, Ibiza time.
After a BBQ and drinks, we headed out towards Jesus to see if we could find a place that would order us taxis – our tried and tested method from last year. The place we found was called Marc's Restaurante and it was far too posh for a group of our already intoxicated levels. To the rich inhabitants of Jesus, we must have seemed no better than the douche bags from Fleetwood on our own flight.
A few taxis came and took most of the group into Ibiza Town while myself, NR and WH waited impatiently with our plastic bottle of TropVod. We waited quite a while but news filtered through that incredibly SB had already scored over in Ibiza Town. When we finally joined them at Cafe Mar Y Sol spirits were pretty high.
Myself and NR had a funny experience venturing out to find rizla. After wandering towards the square just behind Mar Y Sol and not find anything, we asked a group of girls – maybe no older than about 17 – and they politely directed us back over towards the Burger King. And that's the thing, they were so polite. But as we walked away we heard shouts of “hijos de putaâ€. We both turned and laughed at them loudly, as if to say, “We know what that one meansâ€. At the time, I didn't think of it from a racial point-of-view, but my friend is Sri Lankan, so who knows? At the time, I found it little more than a humorous anecdote to tell the group. Either way, a little glimpse into the friendly side of Ibiza Town.
Once we got into Privilege, the night suddenly disappeared into a blur. At the time, it didn't feel like I was “too far gone†or not aware of what was going on around me, but as the days passed I realised I had such little recollection of certain points of that night – particularly Armin's set which I could barely remember. I remember him playing Communication and possibly Burned With Desire. And for some reason I have a really random memory of going mental to KhoMa- The Dark Knight, one of my favourite tracks right now. There is also photographic evidence of Concrete Angel by Gareth Emery.
I remember my dancing being wild and all over the place, crashing into people more than I would normally do, and I also remember being in a number of pictures with randoms who were loving my beloved Armin t-shirt.
Other stuff I do remember is Marco V playing the track Essence, as well as a bootleg of Gotye's Somebody That I Used To Know. We also saw about half an hour of Orjan Nilsen who played his track Amsterdam.
Marco V & Damian William - Essence : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUJE78Iazm4
Orjan Nilsen - Amsterdam : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAnBCppZlwY
In fairness to myself, despite not remembering an awful lot, the photographic evidence of the night is nowhere near as shocking as some of the photos that were taken at Judgement Sundays the year before. We are all smiles and everyone looks like they're having an amazing time.
I was also “alive†enough to remember going into the Vista Room to see Markus Schulz. The room was packed and, as you always expect from Markus, there were some savage tunes being played. Unfortunately, Markus must have been absolutely battered drunk because he was trainwrecking absolutely everything. We didn't stay long in there. We knew going back into the other room that Armin wouldn't be mixing like that.
When we returned to the villa, this is where things went a little Pete Tong. Our group have had many an after party over the years, but I don't remember us starting drinking games at 8am in the morning after going to a club too often in the past. If anything, it's a more recent development and this time it was ill-advised.
At this point, my behaviour started to deteriorate rapidly. It was almost as if I was becoming slightly schizophrenic; the drugs making me happy and self-aware, but the alcohol making me utterly stupid and powerless to stop me doing something ridiculous. Without going into too much detail, the group reckon I, of my own accord, downed 3 or 4 large glasses of Grey Goose and ended up throwing myself in the pool. I remember going in the pool and struggling to drag myself out of it with PH's help.
Now, can I just make it clear to everyone reading just how stupid this was. I mean, as stupid goes, it was right up there with my completely “out-of-it†drunken wandering of Bristol for 4 hours back in 2005. It was a real ‘don't try this at home' moment. Not my finest hour by any stretch.
I remember BW saying to me later in the week that every couple of years he goes on a mad bender where there's incident glore and everyone says, “BW is doing that ‘every 2 years thing' again!†I thought to myself, “you know what, I do that as well.â€
TUESDAY – The Night In
7th of August 2012
I woke up in a slightly vomit stained bed later the next afternoon. The group told me that they had spent most of the morning checking on my breathing and making sure I was OK. Because of the drugs, my hangover wasn't so bad but any attempt to get some Berroca down was not welcomed by my body at all.
A few of the group had already been out in the car visiting a few beaches. I instantly regretted the night before simply because I'd already lost most of the next day and the opportunity to see some of the island. The only consolation was that forcing myself to pass out meant I'd had a good amount of sleep.
I stayed in the pool for what remained of the day and we had our usual BBQ later that evening.
We discussed the possibility of going over to San Antonio for Colors @ Es Paradis. Despite the amazing line up of Andy Moor, Sean Tyas and Daniel Kandi there wasn't that much enthusiasm for the idea. I'd already heard stories that it would be dead by 3.30 and we did suggest the idea of going early and coming back before 4am. In the end, we sensibly opted to have a quiet one.... errrm, a quiet one indeed.
Again, it returned to the drinking games – Ring Of Fire. From what I remember, there were absolutely no drugs involved, but for some reason I again restored to downing my drinks when there was absolutely no requirement to. A few questionable Michael Jackson impressions later, I was again in bed. What the f*ck was I up to?
Going into Ibiza 2012, I knew that comparisons with previous holidays were always inevitable. 2009 was, bar one epic night at Privilege for Tiesto, a relative disaster. 2011 was, bar one night at Privilege where I went into collapse around 4/5am, the dream Ibiza experience. I had it in my head that 2012 would fill in all the gaps from 2011, that I would see more of the beauty of the island this year, see more beaches and sunsets.
In the end, it didn't quite work out like that and I only really have myself to blame. But if Ibiza 2012 was mighty short on sunsets and insights into the island's obvious mysticism, what it was not short on was alcohol, drugs and truly epic clubbing experiences. This was not a dull holiday. Nor, for me, was it a holiday ravaged by debilitating illness like 2009. In fact, thinking back, considering the extent to which I tested my own self-destructive tendencies this year, I should be grateful that I was still happy, healthy and raving it up come the final few days of the trip.
16 people really is an enormous group to have in a villa in Ibiza and I think a number of us realised subconsciously that this was a bit of milestone for our amazing group, particularly when you consider NR missed out so painfully the year previously.
A lot of people might cringe at the idea of having to mobilise a group of 15+ people, but thankfully, we have enough mature, self-less heads in the group to make it work. In particular, JW's use of the hire car for massive communal shops and WH, SM and CM's organisation of the food and shopping was nothing short of amazing. When your food and drink bill is amounting to little more than 5 Euros a day you know someone is doing something right. Our group managed to prove that if you're organised enough, Ibiza can actually be a much cheaper holiday than people generally believe is possible.
Inevitably though, with more Euros in your wallet when you leave the villa, the more comfortable you become laying down 30 Euros for a couple of drinks in the clubs. In the end, I spent a lot less than I anticipated this year, but the ratio of money given to the clubbing overlords compared to the small businesses of Ibiza would be a painful, even shocking, statistic.
The main problem for us having 16 people at our villa, and maybe it is the nicest problem to have - is not feeding everyone, it's not dealing with everyone's tiredness or potential mood swings, it's not the problem of people wanting to do different things (this side of things actually worked out really well) – it's actually the potential over-excitement that comes with being on the world's greatest island with so many of your good friends.
I took so many great memories from this holiday, and there were times when it really took me by surprise – but this holiday also struck me as a bit of a tipping point in terms of just how messy my clubbing experiences are getting these days. It's getting harder and harder to recover, so why the f*ck am I drinking so much?
When I posted my Requests Of The Villa Guests mix recently, I described this trip as “the messiest, blurriest Ibiza holiday on record†– a trip where we each took it in turns to run the Olympic relay of ‘getting yourself well and truly ****ed up'! You'll see what I mean.
MONDAY – Arrival, ASOT & 8am Drinking Games
6th of August 2012
When A State Of Trance was announced for Mondays, I always knew it was going to cause a bit of a problem. Everyone in the group, including myself, would want to see Armin again and I was particularly keen to show NR the biggest club in the world. Arriving at the villa on Monday, it was inevitably going to be a hectic day. In an ideal world, the first couple of nights are quite leisurely and chilled. This was going to be extra messy.
Myself, PH and JDR arrived at Manchester airport nice and early, had a nice bit of lunch and waiting patiently for our 3pm flight – Jet2 had already delayed it by half an hour. Knowing Jet2's reputation for delaying and cancelling flights, I had visions of us turning up at Privilege at some ridiculous hour and holding up the entire group. Thankfully, the half an hour delay was just that – half an hour.
I'd already warned PH and JDR that Ibiza flights could get fairly rowdy. This one didn't seem too bad, save for a group of airhead blondes from Fleetwood. They clearly didn't have a brain cell to share between them. I just slipped my headphones in and listened to Paul Oakenfold's Essential Mix. (Absolutely loved that by the way – good shout, Ikoda!)
JW had very kindly agreed to pick us up from the airport and we were there at the villa in Jesus by about 20 past 8, Ibiza time.
After a BBQ and drinks, we headed out towards Jesus to see if we could find a place that would order us taxis – our tried and tested method from last year. The place we found was called Marc's Restaurante and it was far too posh for a group of our already intoxicated levels. To the rich inhabitants of Jesus, we must have seemed no better than the douche bags from Fleetwood on our own flight.
A few taxis came and took most of the group into Ibiza Town while myself, NR and WH waited impatiently with our plastic bottle of TropVod. We waited quite a while but news filtered through that incredibly SB had already scored over in Ibiza Town. When we finally joined them at Cafe Mar Y Sol spirits were pretty high.
Myself and NR had a funny experience venturing out to find rizla. After wandering towards the square just behind Mar Y Sol and not find anything, we asked a group of girls – maybe no older than about 17 – and they politely directed us back over towards the Burger King. And that's the thing, they were so polite. But as we walked away we heard shouts of “hijos de putaâ€. We both turned and laughed at them loudly, as if to say, “We know what that one meansâ€. At the time, I didn't think of it from a racial point-of-view, but my friend is Sri Lankan, so who knows? At the time, I found it little more than a humorous anecdote to tell the group. Either way, a little glimpse into the friendly side of Ibiza Town.
Once we got into Privilege, the night suddenly disappeared into a blur. At the time, it didn't feel like I was “too far gone†or not aware of what was going on around me, but as the days passed I realised I had such little recollection of certain points of that night – particularly Armin's set which I could barely remember. I remember him playing Communication and possibly Burned With Desire. And for some reason I have a really random memory of going mental to KhoMa- The Dark Knight, one of my favourite tracks right now. There is also photographic evidence of Concrete Angel by Gareth Emery.
I remember my dancing being wild and all over the place, crashing into people more than I would normally do, and I also remember being in a number of pictures with randoms who were loving my beloved Armin t-shirt.
Other stuff I do remember is Marco V playing the track Essence, as well as a bootleg of Gotye's Somebody That I Used To Know. We also saw about half an hour of Orjan Nilsen who played his track Amsterdam.
Marco V & Damian William - Essence : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BUJE78Iazm4
Orjan Nilsen - Amsterdam : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAnBCppZlwY
In fairness to myself, despite not remembering an awful lot, the photographic evidence of the night is nowhere near as shocking as some of the photos that were taken at Judgement Sundays the year before. We are all smiles and everyone looks like they're having an amazing time.
I was also “alive†enough to remember going into the Vista Room to see Markus Schulz. The room was packed and, as you always expect from Markus, there were some savage tunes being played. Unfortunately, Markus must have been absolutely battered drunk because he was trainwrecking absolutely everything. We didn't stay long in there. We knew going back into the other room that Armin wouldn't be mixing like that.
When we returned to the villa, this is where things went a little Pete Tong. Our group have had many an after party over the years, but I don't remember us starting drinking games at 8am in the morning after going to a club too often in the past. If anything, it's a more recent development and this time it was ill-advised.
At this point, my behaviour started to deteriorate rapidly. It was almost as if I was becoming slightly schizophrenic; the drugs making me happy and self-aware, but the alcohol making me utterly stupid and powerless to stop me doing something ridiculous. Without going into too much detail, the group reckon I, of my own accord, downed 3 or 4 large glasses of Grey Goose and ended up throwing myself in the pool. I remember going in the pool and struggling to drag myself out of it with PH's help.
Now, can I just make it clear to everyone reading just how stupid this was. I mean, as stupid goes, it was right up there with my completely “out-of-it†drunken wandering of Bristol for 4 hours back in 2005. It was a real ‘don't try this at home' moment. Not my finest hour by any stretch.
I remember BW saying to me later in the week that every couple of years he goes on a mad bender where there's incident glore and everyone says, “BW is doing that ‘every 2 years thing' again!†I thought to myself, “you know what, I do that as well.â€
TUESDAY – The Night In
7th of August 2012
I woke up in a slightly vomit stained bed later the next afternoon. The group told me that they had spent most of the morning checking on my breathing and making sure I was OK. Because of the drugs, my hangover wasn't so bad but any attempt to get some Berroca down was not welcomed by my body at all.
A few of the group had already been out in the car visiting a few beaches. I instantly regretted the night before simply because I'd already lost most of the next day and the opportunity to see some of the island. The only consolation was that forcing myself to pass out meant I'd had a good amount of sleep.
I stayed in the pool for what remained of the day and we had our usual BBQ later that evening.
We discussed the possibility of going over to San Antonio for Colors @ Es Paradis. Despite the amazing line up of Andy Moor, Sean Tyas and Daniel Kandi there wasn't that much enthusiasm for the idea. I'd already heard stories that it would be dead by 3.30 and we did suggest the idea of going early and coming back before 4am. In the end, we sensibly opted to have a quiet one.... errrm, a quiet one indeed.
Again, it returned to the drinking games – Ring Of Fire. From what I remember, there were absolutely no drugs involved, but for some reason I again restored to downing my drinks when there was absolutely no requirement to. A few questionable Michael Jackson impressions later, I was again in bed. What the f*ck was I up to?
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