This post is dedicated to Joe, the man who got 0 hours of sleep the night before a job interview because he was making sure I didn’t die.
Oh that’s an auspicious beginning, right? But more on that later.
Tessa and I decided that our respective Spanish cities were not providing us with enough beach. So, after careful consideration (looking for the cheapest Ryanair flight) we decided to take a weekend jump over to Mallorca! And when the day came I, of course, had a nasty, mucous-inducing cold. However, Jeannette fears no colds (and I’d already paid for the tickets) so I threw my bikini in my backpack and was off!
The trip was uneventful. I got to Mallorca, got from the airport to our beach, and didn’t run afoul of any Ryanair jerks or annoying travel screw-ups. When I arrived at the Arenal beach, I was dreaming about food and sleep. So I found my hostel and ditched my bags. The plan was, I would find a snack and then go nap on the beach until Tessa arrived or the sun set–whichever happened first.
Yeah…I made it as far as the hostel’s porch, where I was flagged down by 2 Kiwis and a Brit. And then my attempts to take care of myself went out the window–I started drinking vodkas (with OJ, vitamin C man) and exchanging stories about drunken antics around the world. Apparently Rory the Kiwi had missed his plane home and was celebrating another 24 hours in Mallorca with copious amounts of alcohol. Dave and Joe were job-hunting, which is definitely facilitated by being too drunk to walk straight 😀
Three hours later, Tessa found the hostel and me sitting on that same porch. And then the night really took off!
We went to the highly popular Mega Park. And there are no words to adequately describe this place. Imagine throwing all the Spring Break stereotypes in a blender and you’ll be half-way there.
We were surrounded by sunburnt Germans: some in cowgirl outfits, some topless, and all of them singing along (and sometimes fist bumping) to the shitty music that boomed through the building.
Oh yeah, plus Go-Go dancers.
Dave the Kiwi tried to flirt with them, while they were on break. Which went over like a lead balloon, naturally.
In fact, let’s chronicle the adventures of Dave:
Demanded free drinks from every promo guy in Palma.
Insulted all the promo guys who wouldn’t give him free drinks.
Tried to pick a fight with 1 promo guy
Hit on go-go dancers while they were on break.
Offered random women drinks, very confused that they did not delightedly accepted.
Asked me for advice on How to get Roofied, because “Free drugs!”
Danced on tables with dancers, got kicked off twice until a friendly one let him stay.
And this is only what I clearly remember…
At some point we finished our 5L graduated cylinder of vodka and staggered back to the hostel to pass out.
The next day, Tessa and I were in no mood to do anything beyond chill on the beach. Luckily, it was right down the street from our fantastic hostel!
We unfortunately were lounging right next to the most f**king obnoxious British girls on the entire island–however their stupid comments were kind of entertaining. Tessa made a new friend, a giant grasshopper who attacked her leg.
We also met the same promo guys who Dave had flipped off the night before. Yeah, they remembered us…
That night, we made friends with all the loquitos in the hostel. For some odd reason, we were quite tired and not feeling up to massive German parties for a second night. However, because MALLORCA we drank tequila shots and beers until about 2 a.m. And then in a great moment of Bad Life Decisions, I decided that my immune system could totally handle going out for another drink.
Joe had an interview in the morning, but decided that alcohol was a great way to prepare, so he and I went searching for booze. As we wandered the boardwalk, I decided to bum a cigarette or two… (Mom, you can’t kill me from the other side of the planet!)
We found a crappy beach bar that was filled with people who worked on the island, and drank some terrible fruit juices…okay they probably had alcohol but I don’t remember tasting it. I ended up teaching the bartender what a Screwdriver is…yeah he’d never heard of the name.
After this, well then the fun began…
At some point, I started wheezing instead of breathing properly. And I couldn’t stop. And couldn’t manage to get more than a little air into my lungs.
It lasted for ages. It blurred together for me, but Joe swore it was over an hour.
I’ve never had an asthma attack like that. In fact, I haven’t actually needed an inhaler in over 6 years. Luckily for me, Joe had one laying around (yeah I know, sharing meds is bad, blah blah). At some point, I managed to recover my air.
So…Lesson learned. Smoking when you have bronchitis cough is a terrible f***king idea.
Plus, the next day I had the hangover from hell, combined with the memory of my lungs trying to choke me.
Somehow, I rallied and survived the pain of my hangover enough to get into Palma city. Tessa was mistaken for a 16-year-old and we wandered through the old city, mostly chasing the sun whenever possible.
We managed to make it back to Arenal in time for the sunset on the beach, definitely a perfect end to my hungover day.
The next morning, I had to wake up at a reasonable hour–BOO–to catch my flight home. However I did get a couple hours of sunshine before leaving the gorgeous island.