I can hear a faint voice murmuring outside my window... It is saying "Honey, nobody cares about Ibiza anymore, we lost interest when you started describing how you threw up in a bush."
But I don't really care who reads this post, I just want to write about Ibiza.
In my last post about Ibiza I was talking about Wednesday night, but today Kat said something on Facebook about Tuesday that I had completely forgotten about- it was one of my best moments ever on the White Isle: During Carl Cox at Space on Tuesday night, Kat managed to persuade hundreds of people to crouch down with her for The Drop. I am not exaggerating, it must have been a hundred people she got to copy her, because she wiped out half the dancefloor.
It was one of those moments that you hear strung-out forty-somethings (with leathery chests from years of going to Ibiza every summer) talk about: "Everyone was just waiting for the drop man, just all together, just like, all so in the music, like, together, in the moment, you know?"
But it was exactly like that. It was a Magical Moment and I think it will bring a warm, proud glow to Kat's heart whenever she thinks of it for years to come. Unlike most of my Outrageous Exaggerations, I actually have some video evidence for this moment. Well, Hollie managed to take a video of the second time it happened, but believe me the first time was so much more amazing. I can't believe Kat got so many people to follow her lead, and she did it at exactly the right moment. Carl Cox even thanked her- I really think it must been a Well Good moment for him; feeling the tension in the air as half of Space waits for The Drop... waiting, waiting for it and then suddenly:
So that was Tuesday and on Wednesday I have already said how we went to Zoo Project. After Zoo Project, we went to the Ibiza Rocks gig which co-incidentally happened to be Dubstep DJ and his two Dubstep DJ Cronies performing. Don't worry, I didn't do anything embarrassing, but it was weird... at one point me and Claire were stood on a balcony metres above their heads and all the crowd were spread beyond and they were chanting his name... A strange thought crept into my head: 'I have been for lunch with those men in Lyon, on their tour bus, and now I am watching hundreds of people watching them and I'm just the same as anyone else in the crowd.'
Anyway, the gig finished, the strange feeling passed and I drew a sharp line under that episode of my life in Paris. We had gotten wristbands for Privilege and in all the excitement I wasn't even sure who was playing- I've gotten so used to blindly buying for tickets for things in London on Ricky and Kat's recommendation that I assumed anything The Group wanted to go to would be good. It wasn't until Claire took a closer look at her wristband and exclaimed "We're going to a Gatecrasher night?" that doubts started setting in...
I knew I'd heard of Gatecrasher- the word rang alarm bells but I couldn't quite place it. What did it remind me of?
"Furry boots and neon fishnets." Claire said, and as we drew up to the club in our taxi we did indeed see a girl rocking up in a huge pair of furry boots, teamed with a white, stretchy leotard.
It was trance. Or 'trahhhnce' as the Southern Belles we were on holiday with insisted on calling it (me, Hollie and Claire were the only ones on the holiday not from London).
But despite not really getting into the music, I had a Very Good time pretending to get into the music with Claire and Owen. We did some very enthusiastic trance dancing until we got told off by Ricky for making a mockery of the music. The whole night was worth it though, just to see Chris and Danny being the happiest two clubbers I have ever seen. Here is a picture of them (curtesy of Owen), grinning with their Sublime Love for trance and each other:
So that was Wednesday. Face Painting, dubstep and playing at being Tranceformers.
Thursday was the last day of our holiday and it was really sad. I kept thinking I knew this day would come I knew this day would come and I couldn't really concentrate on the Good Times. In the afternoon everybody went for something to eat and I just slept. I don't know what was going on in Ibiza but it felt like my stomach was shrinking a little bit everyday, I just wasn't hungry. Looking back, I should have made myself eat. I should have used my Common Sense and maybe disaster could have been averted...
On Thursday evening we went to watch the sunset. (We had tried to see it on Tuesday but us girls had spent so long changing into our Sunset Outifits that we missed it.) We didn't really see the sunset because it was so cloudy, but it was nice to be out and about and together, trying to pretend that Tomorrow wasn't looming over us...
I was anxious about Friday because everyone was flying home early in the morning and my flight wasn't until 4pm. I knew the logical thing to do would be to wait in the hotel all day and go to the airport on my own, but we all had to check out together and I wasn't sure if I could afford the taxi on my own... I had a sense of dread weighing on me, pulling me away from the sunny skies of Ibiza to that dark place known as Severe Travel Anxiety.
After the (sort of) sunset we went for drinks at Cafe Mambo where me and Claire inexplicably got very drunk. Everyone else nipped back to the hotel to pack but me and Claire stayed put, drinking Sangria and having a very serious conversation about how this time last year, we were in exactly the same spot, with no idea what the next twelve months had in store for us and so much had changed and nothing stays the same and yet some things do but you never can tell which is which until it's too late...
The others finished packing and then called us to say they were at a tapas restaurant. It is the same one we found last year, right at the end of the Sant Antonio strip, down a very long and lonely dirt track... but the food is Amazing. Actually it's amazing that me and Claire managed to find our way there, but we succeeded somehow. We even stopped at a market and Claire bought us matching bracelets to mark the occassion. Hmm, looking back, we were really drunk. I had to
drag Claire away from those giant inverted bungee jump things and a 24 hour piercing shop, because she was convinced she was getting both her nipples done.
When we finally got to the restaurant, we ate really nice tapas (it worked out at ten euros a head, including beer and it's called, simply, Tapas Restaurant, if you are going to that part of Ibiza it is definitely worth the unsettling walk down the deserted country lane, just look out for two blue lights in the distance...) and then we got on a very loud bus to Amnesia for our Last Night in Ibiza.
The big shots that night at Amnesia were Above & Beyond but I can't honestly say I remember seeing them. Because we had been there for about half an hour when I suddenly got ill. Worryingly ill. I thought something horrible was going to happen. I got that feeling when you know you can't stand up any longer and you can't talk because you'll be sick and I tried not to think about it and I waited for it to pass... At one point I dragged Owen and Claire outside with me for some fresh air, but I didn't see any improvement. We did, however, see Joey Essex, but that's neither here nor there.
We went back inside and I tried to dance with everyone. It was the last night, everyone else seemed to be enjoying the music but I couldn't really hear it or dance to it, I couldn't really feel my face or my feet, I could just feel my stomach and it didn't feel right...
At one point someone, I can't remember who, looked into my face and said "Are you all right?" and in reply I crouched on the floor and before I could stop myself I... ok I don't know if I am able to type this.
I vomited. On. The dancefloor.
When I first got down to the floor, all I could see were hundreds of paris of legs and then in the next second, after The Event, there were strangely no legs around me anymore. There was just a twenty foot space where horrified holiday-goers had scrambled out of the way to give Vomiting Girl a wide berth.
Oh my days. I cannot believe I was sick on the dancefloor like that. Why was I so ill? It's not fair. Ok, so I have a sneaky suspicion about why I was ill... but it still doesn't seem fair.
I had to go home early and Claire came back with me. She said she wasn't enjoying the music either but I don't know if she just said that to make me feel better. Ergh.
When we got back to the hotel I lay on the bed feeling like death. I knew that in two hours I would have to move around, pack up my stuff and say my goodbyes...Then, all of a sudden, I had a Brain Wave. I would have a bubble bath. I don't know why the thought came into my head but all of a sudden I felt great. I ran myself a hot bubble bath and as soon as I got in I felt better. I lay in the bubbles, marvelling at my brilliance (and realising that this would be the last bath I get to have until I go home for Christmas), for what felt like minutes but in fact must have been at least an hour.
Then Kat and Hannah came in. It was time for them to go. I packed up and we all checked out together. Everyone from London was leaving straight away, but Claire and Hollie weren't flying until 11am, so we had a couple of hours to try and sleep. I said goodbye to everyone in the hotel lobby but I still felt a bit weird. I felt like I was floating around everyone and saying goodbye didn't really feel real. I thought saying goodbye to Kat would make me cry but I didn't feel sad really, because I didn't really believe that we were really going our seperate ways.
I invited everyone to Paris, of course. Everyone replied with a 'Yeah...' and then a look flashed across their eyes that seemed to say '...when hell freezes over.' Still, last year I invited as many as possible to come and stay with me and in the end I had ten visitors over ten months, so it just proves that, erm, you only reap what you sow, or something like that.
Anyway, we all said goodbye. The London Lot left. Me, Claire and Hollie slept for about an hour and then we were up and out and on our way to the airport. I waited in line with Claire and Hollie, not really believing I was going to be left alone. And then, suddenly, I was. And that's why everything went horribly, horribly wrong.
Right, I didn't mean to leave it on a cliffhanger, but have just realised how tired I am. I have been on the internet for hours and it is not healthy or cool. I am going to bed for a good night's rest and tomorrow Kayt is going to ring me as soon as she wakes up. We are going to do something cultural in the day and in the evening we are going to go out and have a Marvellous Time and I won't be a sad gimp who sits at home all night by herself.