first
EDIT: I really wish I hadn't done that. I now hate myself for it. But screw it, I might as well tell a story whilst I'm here.

Not so much a weekend, as a pre weekend. But it was expensive nonetheless.

A few years back, two of my friends, Rob & Tom, and I thought it'd be top notch to go and take in "all the culture" of a holiday in Ibiza, for a second time. As liabilities go, us three together are some of the biggest.

We flew out on the Wednesday and we reaallllyyy did it on our first night. Here's our tale of alcohol and woe.

Obviously on our first day, we did the usual stuff of checking out the room (dive), the pool (no diving) and the surrounding area. After the mistake we made in our first year of going out at 11pm, which is the equivalent of going out at 2pm in lovely Blighty, we took a bit of a siesta before picking up some pre beers and getting warmed up, and then going for a meal to soak up the inevitable water park of booze we were no doubt going to consume.

For those who have never been to Ibiza, let me first tell you about the West End. It's basically a strip of what I could only fathom as millions upon millions of bars, with ridiculous offers of petroleum and orange cocktails to entice you in.

The three of us considered ourselves fine connesuirs of booze (read monster drinkers) and were in the middle of our fair share of drinking when disaster struck for me! The Mexican chicken I'd just eaten was making its presence known at my colons expense. So after quickly slurring to the lads "DON'T MOVE, I'M OFF FOR A SHIT" I made my way back to our hotel, as it was only 2 seconds from the west end and I didn't fancy getting my bum covered in the 'substances' usuall found on Ibiza public toilet seats.

And yep, sure enough, as soon as I returned, the bastards had disappeared. So, doing what only a young sensible lad could do in Ibiza, I got royally battered with a load of strangers and then went to gawp at some boobies in a strip club. A few hours later, after not being able to find my hotel even though I probably walked past the thing 5 times, I woke up in a random hotel room lying next to a fat bird.

After making a sharpish exit, I left that hotel, walked LITERALLY 10 metres around the corner to find where I was staying. The trudge to the 4th floor was quite unpleasant (scared of lifts, couldn't be bothered with the cocktail of hangover/fear). However not nearly as unpleasant as what I found when I got to our room door, which had been kicked damn near off its hinges, with a broken lock on it.

Rob was lying there on the bed. I stood there in silence, baffled by how unshocked I was at the current turn of events.

Rob told me that he had no idea what happened after I'd left the bar, but somehow he managed to lose Tom, and realising that I had one key and Tom had the other, he had no way of getting back into the room (of course in his state he couldn't comprehend that the hotel would have a spare). So he wondered aimlessly around the West End, very similar to myself, and then, with the main chunk of his night missing, woke up at around 8 in the morning from what he could tell, on a sunlounger, in a hotel he had never seen before.

Being still under the influence from the previous night, he could not for the life of him work out how to get out of the hotel. So he climbed over an 8ft wall to get out, gaining a nice long cut but losing a mighty chunk out of his leg at the same time. Then walking out towards the beach, he realised he was a good half hours' walk from the hotel. How he got there is still a mystery.

"But what about the room?!" I asked. "Why is the door off the hinges, were we robbed?"

"Well..." said Rob, in an ominous tone, as I notice all of Toms' belongings are firmly stuffed into his bag. And this is where the expensive part comes in.

Turns out Tom, on losing the pair of us, had decided that he was bored of the West End, so took a wander to one of the nearby clubs (either Es Paradis or Eden, I forget). This is where the spending begins.

Now, down the West End, drinks are cheap. Very fucking cheap. Hand over €15 between three of you, you'll get 3 beers, 3 shots, a pitcher of cocktail and the rest of the bottle of vodka that was left over from the cocktail, which is never a great deal anyway. But get to a club in Ibiza, prices are so high you need to get a mrtgage for a Vodka Red bull. So Tom, in his infinite wisdom, gets ruined on vodka and coke, a snip at €20 a glass. After this, he leaves the club much the worse for wear, when one of the locals becomes very friendly with him on his walk back to the hotel. Putting his arm round him.... Calling him mate.... Rummaging through his pockets... Stealing his wallet... Phone... Passport... Camera... Room key....

Tom, of course, did not notice this at all, and thought the bloke was just being nice!

Until he got back to the room. "CUNT" he thinks. And in his fury, standing outside our room, no key, puts his size 12 through the lock.
Then packs his bags.
Then goes to get a taxi.
Then arrives at the airport to get a flight home.


Then gets told to fuck off, because he doesn't have a passport.

So in one night of madness, Tom managed to spend:
Around 100€ on drinks, 20€ on getting into a club, About €120 on taxis to and from the airport and British Consulate, €70 on a temporary passport. 120€ on a new door/lock for the room, £80 on a new passport and god knows how much on a new phone and camera.

And because he was so annoyed at himself for nearly leaving the holiday on the first night, he bought me and Rob breakfast.

The rest of the holiday, in comparison, was quiet.
( the pink chicken sniffer sniffs pink chickens., Thu 13 May 2010, 13:05, 5 replies)

i'm guessing
you had the room key
( real i'm not happy 'til you're not happy, Thu 13 May 2010, 14:28, closed)

Left the key in his Accord?
(celticmick_7, Thu 13 May 2010, 15:45, closed)

Fuck off you cunt
b3ta.com/questions/nemesis/post712425

Please read, and then follow above instructions as appropriate.
( the pink chicken sniffer sniffs pink chickens., Fri 14 May 2010, 11:42, closed)

Are Tom and Rob your Teddybears?
(celticmick_7, Fri 14 May 2010, 13:59, closed)

Yes, a good insult!
That did make me laugh, I really do hate Honda Accord comments. Don't mind a proper joke, but Accord jokes ran their course a long time ago.

And no, my teddybears are Brownie (a little brown bear, not a jobby) and Pingu (because its a penguin). Thanks for the personal interest. When should I send the restraining order?
( the pink chicken sniffer sniffs pink chickens., Fri 14 May 2010, 15:36, closed)

lol

( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Sun 16 May 2010, 17:38, closed)

hahahahahahahahahaha

( the pink chicken sniffer sniffs pink chickens., Sun 16 May 2010, 23:35, closed)

Me and two mates stayed in San Antonio bay a few years back
The first night we were there one of the lads got absolutely shitfaced before the sun had a chance to set, and he managed to do a runner.

After a good hour of searching for the pissed cunt, I found him stumbling about in the hotel shouting "I'M LOOKING FOR JECCY!"

The next morning he remembered a few more details of the night, one of which was turning up has the hotel he was staying (called the Hotel Palmera) and ordering a taxi in reception. When it turned up, he jumped in and asked the driver to take him somewhere.
"Otel Palmera please driver."
The driver double-takes, then points out the window while saying "Keh?"
"Otel Palmera boss."
"Keh?" while still pointing outside.
"Oh cheers boss..." and with that he stumbles back into the hotel he just walked out of.

While he was still hammered I towel-whipped him across the arse while such anger that the sound echoed throughout the hotel, and the next morning it still stung him through his hangover. We told him that we'd rescued him from an arse-rape outside the hotel by a gang of elderly spanish women.


Oh, and with regards to your post the West End is literally cheap as fuck.
( Jeccius Steam Borderlands 2 junkie, Fri 14 May 2010, 17:38, closed)

I do that almost every day on the way to work, not even booze related:

Me: "Can I a single to Market Harborough please"
Train man: "... You're IN Market Harborough"
Me: "... fucksocks, I didn't mean that..."
( the pink chicken sniffer sniffs pink chickens., Sat 15 May 2010, 12:45, closed)