Short Break, first trip of 2016

W_I_C

W_I_C

Moderator
Staff member
Ok, so here it is. Apologies for the delay! Been back a week yesterday (the first 4 days were spent recovering). To set the scene this was my cousin's stag-do. Originally I hadn't planned on going as I knew I'd have only just returned home from travelling. However, one of the group dropped-out so there was a spare bed going. And the lure of the island - you know how it is - I just couldn't pass up on the opportunity! So managed to flight similar flights a week before for just over £150, so I snapped them up. Wasn't expecting much compared to my usual visits, but Ibiza is Ibiza, regardless of what you get up to. Here's how it went down:

Thursday 09/06/16 - 04:00 am BST
Early start. Stayed at my brother's the night before, and both walked 5mins around the corner to meet the rest of the party before jumping in 2 minibuses which took us to Stansted. 14 of us in total. Knew a few of the lads by face, but hadn't really had more than a passing convo with most of them. We were staying at Ibiza Rocks. I would be staying in a room with my bro, and other cousin - the stag's brother, which suited me fine. Journey to Stansted was plain sailing, and we breezed through security. Had plenty of time to spare, and got practically the whole of upstairs of Wetherspoons to ourselves. Most of the lads ate, my liquid breakfast for me. Flight itself was without incident. Lots of "banter" which set the tone.

Once through security at the other end we piled into a dusty coach with a door which didn't open properly, and didn't drive much better! €10 each for the privilege! Would've been more cost effective to queue and get taxis, but hey ho. When we arrived at Ibiza Rock we began the arduous task of all getting checked-in, which seemed to take forever. Me, my bro & cousin got allocated a room on the 4th floor, directly behind the stage.

Soon we have congregated by the pool and were getting the beers in. At one point I think at least 90% were in the pool. Alas, it'd be my only time I went into the water for the next 5 days. I fell asleep in the sun. I had used precautions, but I woke to find one of the lads had placed a chair strategically over my head to shield me from the sun. One of the other of our group hadn't fared quite so well.

There was a brief discussion about plans for the evening. I had already come to terms with the fact that we were unlikely to be spending much of our time clubbing, so was pleased when my cousin said tonight would be the night "gotta hit it hard on the first night, ain't ya"

Would've rather been going to Music On, naturally, and Cream holds very little appeal for me. But it was the stag's choice, and I was in. Arranged to have some supplies delivered, then had a disco nap. We bought our tickets from reception, and had pre-drinks by the pool area. About 11pm we took a stroll to Ibiza Rocks bay and stayed until about 1am. By this point it had become clear that most of the group had flaked. We knew a couple of the guys we're already at Amnesia, but everybody else had apparently peaked too early, or opted for an early night.

We caught a taxi to Amnesia, and were inside by 2am. DJ Fresh was on in the terrace, with an hour left of his set. The first thing which struck me: emptiest I've ever seen Amnesia. Plenty of space, even on the dancefloor. No bottle-neck between rooms, and getting served was a breeze. Fresh played a pretty eclectic, accessible set. I recall Pendulum 'Tarantula' and Dead Prez 'Hip-Hop' plus his chart hits. Pretty standard stuff.

We'd only been there half an hour when the alcohol consumption caught-up with my cousin. We spoke to security and they allowed my bro to leave briefly to pack him safely into a cab then allow him back inside. Fatboy Slim came on at 3am. In terms of numbers this was the peak of the night. Still plenty of room, mind.

Norman did what he does. I enjoyed myself, but, again, you could predict the playlist. The pills we had acquired were particularly strong, however. This undeniably added to my appreciation of the night. The 3am peak was short-lived, and as early as 3:30 the terrace was visibly emptying out. Got chatting to a friendly Glaswegian fella in the smoking area. We mainly chatted about the Euros. Typically chatting shit. Was a good craic.

DJ SKT - who I'm not too familiar with - closed the terrace. By this point it was very quiet. We stayed until the end. SKT was alright. He seemed to repeat a few tracks, bizarrely. I had other friends who weren't apart of our stag group, who I knew were only over the road watching the sunrise in Vista at Solid.Grooves, and I yearned to join them. Later on I found out that Zabiela was the "secret guest" and I reflected on how different my night would've been if I decided to fraction from my group. Still, never mind. A good time was had. The stag enjoyed himself, so job done.

In the taxi ride back to the hotel we agreed the first night had been a success. If nothing else, we had found some decent beans.

To be continued...
 
Day 2

We got back to IR and sat by the pool area, finishing our water. Gradually we each made our excuses and headed back to our respective rooms. I was still pretty buzzin', and knew i wouldn't be able to sleep. My bro took himself to bed, and my cousin was well and truly KO'ed, so i decided to take a wander to get some beers. Being that it was still early, there weren't any nearby supermarkets open. So i went for ol' faithful: a leisurely stroll to Wips! Got a carry-out of 6 San Miguel. They didn't stock the pull caps so i had to buy a bloody btl opener too! I wandered back and then enjoyed some beers back by the pool. Another of our group joined me for a while. He was older than me, and had left his wife kids at home. As such he was feeling guilty and had booked a flight home on saturday night. We chatted about our past Ibiza escapades. When he decided it was time to hit the hay, i carried on. The staff were now up and getting the seating area ready. It was at this point when a few more stag parties showed up. They enquired about my beers, and i pointed them in the direction of Wips.

Finally i decided it was time for some shut eye.
I wasn't first to wake up in our room, but i was the first up. My cousin had thrown up all over the bathroom. He had attempted to clean up, but had failed miserably. The maids knocked and we warned them about the mess. At first they indicated they didn't mind, but having looked at it they threw the mop in our direction I told us we needed to do it ourselves. I didn't blame them.
Slowly we all congregated by the pool. A lot of the lads had hitten too hard and barely got past the West End. We made loose plans to see the sunset this evening. The poolside was throbbing, but it was a cockfest - hardly any birds. Some of the single lads (and a few in relationships! :spank:) voiced their disappointment. Tonight was R.A.W with Luck & Neat, Ms. Dynamite & Wilkinson, so the likelihood was that we wouldn't be heading out elsewhere afterwards.

About 10 of us took a walk along the sunset strip, and ended up at Golden Buddha. We ordered drinks and ate, but ended up leaving before sunset. On the way back the group joker was playing silly bugger and had us all in stitches. On reflection every else probably hated us as a result of his behaviour. So apologies... It wasn't planned, but i ended up having another nap before RAW kicked-off. Me + my bro went twos on a litre of Morgan's spiced rum. We all went to the stag's room, and it had the best vantage point of the stage. Felt sorry for Pat Nazemi warming-up as there was only a handful of ppl down below, and all of them were standing by the bar. Then came one of the downers of the whole trip: security came to the room we were in and told us it was 5-max to a room. This really put a bitter taste in our mouths, as we had all been as good as gold. It wasn't so much what we were being told, more the aggressive manner in which we were. I still don't know if this is official hotel policy, but i suspect it may have had something to do with the fact that it wasn't busy at all. The other thing which pissed us off was that other room's were so obviously flouting this "rule" and getting away with it.
Tail between legs we all headed to the dancefloor.
I'm no garage fan, but Luck & Neat did the spiel they've been doing for 25 years and it went down well.
Ms. Dynamite still had it! The crowd went most crazy for her solo hits and her collabs with DJ Fresh.
Wilkinson - again, not my bag - was okay. Played it pretty safe imho, much like Fresh the night before. Did little for me.
 
Personally I considered WAR a bit... pants. Unfortunately the group decided we'd carry-on at Ibiza Rocks Bar for the afterparty. Begrudgingly I accepted defeat and agreed to join them. Fortunately on our way there we bumped into a few of the lads heading back in the opposite direction, explaining that it was dead. Most of the rest of the group appeared to be calling it a sign and heading to bed, a handful of others had pulled - wahey! - me, my bro and 2 others decided to buy a take-out from Wips and then we headed towards Calo des Moro.

We enjoyed our beers sitting on the rocks infront of Kanya, and watched the world go by chatting shit. It was a welcomed downtempo moment.

Whilst we were sitting there we noticed a fella behaving very strangely on the sand. He was trying to perform a handstand in the shallow waters. Unsuccessfully.

He soon gave up, and then came over to us. Immediately I knew this was going to be a laugh.

He was a free-spirit, hippie type called Drew. Originally he was from Essex. We humoured him, and chatted shit. He was harmless enough. Just a lost soul. He explained how he just had a barney with his missus. He seemed quite worldly, and well traveled.

We exchanged our different experiences on substances. He was a big advocate of DMT.

Eventually I could sense Dave - a non-sense fella in our group - getting aggatated at the presence of our newfound friend. We said our goodbyes, and headed back to Ibiza Rocks. It was now closing 4am, and we wondered where the time had gone.

We went back to the stag's room and got chatted to the people in the room next door. They explained to us that they had been told-off by the security during the event too. They had complained to the manager and been given an apology.

We decided we needed to hit an afterparty in one of the rooms, and spent 45mins wandering the halls of each level trying to locate the room of a balcony which was still in full-swing. After a few knocks on incorrect doors, we decided that we should probably call it a night instead of annoying anymore of our fellow guests.

We hit the hay. What would Day 3 bring? It's was England's first game in the Euros! From our experience at poolside earlier we knew that the hotel was full of blokes, and had a notable Welsh & Scottish contingent.
 
Day 3 and woke-up late. As per stag rules this was mandatory full kit (yes, we were those wankers!) The stag wasn't in on this, and he was forced to wear the full goalie kit including gloves and shinpads.

We watched the Wales game at poolside before the England/Russia match.

Obviously the match was a massive disappointment conceding the equalizer in stoppage time - especially since Wales had won earlier. (of course it would pale against the disappointment endured later in the tournament!)

Our mood was compounded by the jeering Scots behind us.

Earlier in the day the stag had suggested that he was open to the idea of hitting Space tomorrow (Sunday) seeing as it was their final year, and he wouldn't get another opportunity to go. I wasn't hopeful that it would happen. In any case, for it to even to be an option it meant everybody had to conserve money now. That suited most people since the result didn't put us in the mood for carrying on the antics.

... But it's Ibiza, innit. So of course we gradually convinced ourselves that getting an early night just wasn't an option.

Had a leisurely stroll, and ended up having a go on the slingshot - so much for saving money, eh! Still a good laugh.

Went back to the hotel and did a shitload of gear before hitting the West End.

Had a decent time, I'm not ashamed to admit. Didn't see any trouble. Was mainly stag & hen groups out on the lash. We visited a few bars and worked our way down. The music was you would expect - commercial. One of our group got very inebriated after downing a load of shots he assumed were free. Turns out they weren't! He got in such a state that we ended up having to take him back. He couldn't even talk properly, and was uneasy on his feet. Took us a while to get him back. I was in need of using the WC, so it suited me popping back. When we got in, he collapsed onto the bed (where he stayed for the remainder of the holiday) In the process he had lost his phone, which typically included the only group photo of us all in our England kits.

Did a few more lines and then headed back out, but the night was as good as over as people had ran outta money & energy.

I tried in vain to lure the last men standing to Hush, but everybody now had tunnel vision for the day after.

To my surprise Space was still being discussed as a real possibility. But first I would have to endure a day at Ocean Beach...
 
Day 4

I thought the night before had been pretty tame. But when I woke up I felt terrible. Had only done ecstasy on the first night at Amnesia, but this felt like a comedown off a 3-4 day bender. I tried getting myself together but I was struggling. Then I worked out that apart from the occasion at Golden Buddha on the evening of Day 2, I had neglected to eat anything since we landed. I think I had pinched a few tortillas and maybe had some Pringles, but that was pretty much it. It was overcast. I met with the stag and the best man at poolside, and I decided it would be stupid to do anything but get a meal inside me.

We headed around the corner to a café where they had eaten previously. (they had tried Fatso's at my recommendation on morning #1 and were less than impressed). Looking a google streetview the name of the establishment appears to be "Se7en" although I didn't notice this at the time. Perhaps it has changed recently? Anyway the food was good - had a burger. The English Breakfast was proper too. (No frankfurter!) The Spanish waitress also couldn't do enough for us. Tremendous customer service. Although we overheard her giving a male colleague, maybe the chef, a taste of her sharp tongue!! Wouldn't wanna get on the wrong side of her.

Anyway... as I mentioned previously, we were scheduled to be going to Ocean Beach today. I felt mildly better after eating, but still pretty rough. A lot of us were actually suffering by now, my brother included. The best man had booked a table at OB and already put down a considerable deposit for the privilege. Had this not been the case, I reckon we would've pulled the plug. As it happens myself (and a few others) felt obliged to go. Apart from it 100% not being a piece of me, I really couldn't justify the money as well as feeling like death warmed-up. The issue was that for each man that dropped out, the remaining would end up paying more each. In retrospect we should've just all chipped-in to reimburse the best man. But off we went! I think we were about 5 men down.

The walk there took an age, and while most of the group raced ahead, I trailed behind with a guy called Aaron - the same guy who I shared the slingshot with last night. I did contemplate sneaking off. When we finally got there I was really feeling rotten. We had walked in silence. We got seated pretty quickly, as it was early, but upon entrance I had the most thorough (borderline aggressive) search and pat-down I've ever experienced in Ibiza from the guy on the door. They really do not want drugs in there! I didn't have anything on me (or indeed anything left!) If anybody else did, then they managed to stow them in time as we all got in okay.

No sooner had we walked in then Aaron doubled-over and slumped forward. At first we thought he was over-exaggerating, but soon became clear he was in some trouble. He was saying "I'm fitting", although he didn't appear to be convulsing and remained conscious throughout. I later learned he suffers from mild epilepsy. As we were all feeling rough, we suspected that his condition was a result of hitting it too hard, and, to be fair, it probably had at least a playing part. The security also thought it was self-induced, and asked him what he had taken.

Here's the thing: for all it's faux wealth and pretentiousness I can't thank the Ocean Beach staff enough for how they handled the situation, and looked after our friend. It was really faultless and great customer service. They didn't vilify him or throw him as I'm sure other venues (including in the UK) would have. They took him to the medical bay and got him checked out by a first aider. Ran his stats, and got him some water. Some 15-mins later they escorted him to our table and he looked much better. He spent the rest of the afternoon taking it easy. Not my idea of €110 well spent, but at least he was okay!

I couldn't stomach any alcohol, so I just let everybody else get on with it and order what they wanted.

The music was fine: soulful, vocal house. I think I knew pretty much every track,but it suited the vibe. The only DJ who's name I recognised on the line-up was Colin Francis.

I hated the experience as much as I thought I would. Although granted, I wasn't really in the right frame of mind to be enjoying myself. I'm no anti-VIP brigade - I have been known to use the bottle service at Pacha in the past - but I just felt this was proper plastic. Overpriced and most people spending hideous amounts of money looked as though they weren't exactly the types to have so much disposable income to spare! They were also a high concentration of tossers. Proper tossers. The guy looking after us was more interested in socialising and chatting-up women, and we often waited ages to order and then for our drinks to be brought out. They also wound down the umbrellas, despite being the ones telling us that Aaron should stay in the shade! I suspect it was too windy to keep them up safely, but it was just the blasé manner in which they did it without consulting us. they didn't even tell us why when we pressed them.

After about 4 hours I had had enough and took a walk back to the hotel by myself. I felt a bit paranoid walking back. The effects of last night, no doubt. When I got back to my room my bro was watching the football - Germany or Northern Ireland, I don't recall. I told him he hadn't missed out (and had saved himself a small fortune!)

I took a much needed nap. Terrible interrupted sleep. Not quite sleep paralysis, but very vivid dreaming. When I got up a few hours later I felt worse if anything. TBC...
 
Day 4 continued...

I woke to learn more of the guys had returned from Ocean Beach. It didn't sound like I'd missed anything. I was feeling about as lousy as I've felt in Ibiza. Soon after darkness fell it seemed like the vast majority had made their way back to the hotel, the stag included. I was trying to get myself together (shower, brush my teeth, painkillers), when he knocked on the door. "Are we going to Space then, or what?"

My heart both jumped and sunk simultaneously. "I honestly don't know if I can."

"You're gonna have to, your brother has already got your ticket. C'mon."

So that was that. Space was on! Plus there was the small matter of Tenaglia on the terrace which I simply could not afford to miss.

I went down to the shop and got a case of beers, knowing that I needed to get into the zone. A phone-call later, and we were off to pick-up supplies from a worker friend of mine. This time we got a different type to the ones at the start of the hol.

There was 10 of us hitting Space in total, so three cabs. We didn't have to wait too long, and were soon on our way.

Space was filling up nicely when we arrived. Claptone was already on in the terraza with an animated display behind the decks. There was space to move into, but fairly busy. He played a remix of Underworld 'Born Slippy'. So far, so good.

We made our way up to the Premier Etage as most ppl wanted a smoke. I dropped half a pill. Before I knew it I was rushing. It was so intense. I couldn't believe how quickly, and how strongly I had come up. (Usually by day 4 my serotonin levels are spent). I wasn't alone, the rest of the group were commenting on how strong they were. There was lots of swinging jaws. I assumed I was gurning as badly as they were. Anyway... long story short, we stayed upstairs faaaaar too long. The music was fine - Dave Seaman & labelmates hosting the floor - and the people were pleasant, but it was killing my buzz and I wanted to get amongst it. Half of the group bailed at this point. This didn't surprise me. It was a shock that they had decided to come in the first place. Felt sorry for one guy though as he was flying at this point and practically got forced into going home. Later learned that he hang his head out the window of the cab like a dog the whole way back!

We popped into the discoteca and Jonas Rathsman was delivering some twisted, errie tech house. It seemed good. However - f*** me - it wasn't long before we ended up back on the Premier Etage! Bloody smokers! On any other occasion I would have bailed on them and had my own night, but this was the last night, I was there for my cousin, and I was feeling fragile so sticking together was the only option in my view. I was still so up and I wanted to get dancing properly.

Eventually we made our way back downstairs and found a spot in the main room between the front right-hand side of the DJ booth and the step/bar on the far right - a favourite location of mine down the years, it must be said.

Darius was at the helm now, and he did the business. There was plenty of space on the dancefloor, even at the front, and getting served at the bar was a breeze. But there was enough of a crowd for a good atmosphere. Darius seemed to play and play and play. I was beginning to wonder if Alan Fitzpatrick had a flight delay. When he did come on he did what he always does, and smashed out some proper techno! We stomped around, and it was great, although by this point it was visibly emptying out.

My half had finally worn-off. Given the strength of it, and how late (or early...) it now was I made the conscious decision to leave it at that. My feet were really sore by this point. I took my brother to one side and said that the latest we should stay should be 06:30. This was based solely on how rough myself and others were feeling, and knowing that we only had the room until 11am before being booted out (our flight home was until the early hours of Tuesday morning!)

Suddenly I remembered Tenaglia on the terrace! I spoke to the group, knowing that it would be hard to convince everybody to uproots. My bro agreed to go with me... well, what a disappointment. The terrace was virtually empty. There was less than a dozen people on the dancefloor. Tenaglia cut a solemn figure, and I kinda felt for him. It actually reminded me of the last time I saw him in Ibiza when it was me and a handful of others at the death of Sankeys Opening a few years ago, in the Lab. Anyway, no matter how good the music may have been - I can't recall to be honest - the lack of atmosphere made this a no brainer: back to Fitzpatrick.

We stayed until about 06:30, and numbers were starting to shallow by this point. The last remaining 4 men standing - me, my brother, my cousin the stag and his brother - exited to no queue for the taxis. We jumped in one and headed back to San An. On the way we passed a vehicle which has careered off the road. Our driver pointed out to us as he himself was doing close to 90! Hope the driver and any passengers were okay.

We decided to get dropped at the Egg roundabout and walk the rest of the way back. This was to save money - of which there was collectively very little left - and also just to savour our final moments in Ibiza, knowing it would all soon be over. My feet were killing, and the walk back seemed to take ages. There was no question this time though: it was straight to bed when we got back.

I knew the alarm set for 10am would be sobering. So glad I went to Space, though. So glad we all went together, and got to see Darius and then Fitzpatrick on top form. I intend on going to the Closing in October, but I knew that for most, if not all, of the other guys it would've been their final visit. It wasn't the quietest I've seen Space (that honour falls to a Toolroom Knights events in late September 2012), but it was quiet. The crowd was Brit heavy. Lots of stag and hen groups. They were bang-up for it in the main room - small on numbers, high on spirits.

A few hours sleep, then pack, then... then die by the pool I suppose.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top