Nic, Ryan, Woo and I strolled off the plane and into the morning Mediterranean sun as we crossed the tarmac of Ibiza airport. It was hot and dry and still only just after 9am as we got a taxi to take us to the Lux Mar Apartments in Figueretas. Luckily nobody was to be checked out of our room, so we were able to check in immediately and head up to our room. We spent the day lazing about the pool, catching up on sleep and generally preparing ourselves for what would be a massive weekend of partying and Spanish flavoured craziness.
By mid evening on Friday, we had purchased our tickets for the infamous Pacha nightclub, got some food and booze for the evening, but had still not been able to locate any motivation for the evening’s festivities, however after a bucket load of red bull and vodka, we were on our way into the Ibiza night with a lot of expectations. We arrived at Pacha, and while it was still pretty empty, the club itself was very impressive. Rooms led onto arena which split into outdoor areas and secluded caves with more bars and rooms sprouting off them. Before we knew it, the club had filled up in what seemed like a matter of minutes and people filled every area. As the night wore on our inability to find motivation frustrated Woo, Ryan and myself as with a red bull and Vodka costing 30euro, we didn’t have alcohol to fall back on. Nic however found a group of British lads who were happy to ply her full of whatever motivation she was after. She had “possibly the best night of [her] life”, whereas Ryan, Woo and I all enjoyed our night, but were home and asleep a good few hours before Nic.
The next day consisted of sleep, lying on the beach and sleep. I was lucky enough to randomly bump in Erin, as I had lost Kate’s (Erin’s sister) mobile number when my phone was stolen and had planned to meet up with them in Ibiza for some party times. Down the beach Woo was able to locate something he had been looking for and we returned to the hotel, ready for a night out at Bora Bora and keen to take on Ibiza in round two. Somewhere around this time, I apparently lost my mind. I remember so little of this evening that hearing the stories of me chucking a tanty, taking photos of scantily clad Italian girls and general poor behavior are nearly as embarrassing as seeing the photographic evidence of me dancing around like a douche bag with my shirt off inside the club. Awful, disgraceful scenes. Although, until I heard all this the next day, I thought I had a pretty fantastic night and was once again back on the program and looking forward to the third and final round.
The next day consisted of sleep, lying by the pool, and more sleep. We dragged our asses out of our hotel by 10pm and went out to a bar where we got some reasonably priced drinks and Woo was once again able to sniff out some motivation for the group. We rocked up at Space nightclub by just after 11pm, met up with Kate, Erin and their crew and got the night cranking with a set of funky tech with a live drummer belting out some rocking beats. We then moved into the main room and the night cranked up another gear and we rocked into the night, occasionally going up to the terrace to hear the planes fly low over our heads as they came in to land at the Ibiza airport.
By about 6am, it was time for us to leave. We needed to be on a plane to Valencia by 9am, and would have no time to sleep. We got back to the hotel, packed all our stuff and got in a taxi to the airport. I said my goodbyes to Woo at the airport as he is heading back to the UK, while I head to Valencia and La Tomatina. We trudged like sickly, sleep deprived zombies out across the same Ibiza tarmac as we had three days ago. We came. We saw. We kicked its ass. Kinda.
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