A blog which does not pertain to any one topic, genre, leitmotif etc. Basically what I want and when I want. What is a necessary outlook on life, sans frontières. Depending on what I'm doing most likely; music, literature, travel and general criticisms.
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Wednesday, 17 August 2011
Would you like me to lie down or just touch my toes?
I’m now back from a notoriously head splitting week at Ibiza, many memories to speak of; but perhaps more distressing in some cases very few memories of some nights out.
(The Beautiful Backdrop to our mess)
One of the greatest shouts of Ibiza has to be the beach club/hotel Ushuaïa. However with this there also naturally lady fortune who presents us with a double edged sword. For example it is an incredible hotel venue and it completely blows Ibiza Rocks way out of the water. It has incredible dancers and a massive chic VIP area; which unfortunately even with the notoriety of this blog, it wa not enough to warrant access to the more luxurious parts of the hotel. Thus the shameful walk back to the plebs was imminent. The Music was also intense and there were enough raised platforms or things of that ilk to keep my travelling companion happy.
However this is where Sod's Law comes into play. Yes we should get mashed before, but wait!! Be careful not to really too mashed or in reality at all because you need to get in. Hmm ok, so an hour of dancing later, I am sobering up / need a beverage to take ‘the edge’ off it; thus let’s go buy a ticket to get a drink.
Myself: Excuse me beverage lady, does your manager know that you are categorically stealing from me in broad daylight! I want to see the manager.
Beverage Lady: Well sir, if you really feel that way I shall invite him to partake in this discussion.
(Manager arrives, looks me up and down, and then puts his hand in my pockets searching for a wallet or phone to steal)
Manager: Yes my wide eyed gentleman, what seems to be the problem?
Myself: This beverage lady is robbing me in broad daylight…and as a matter of fact your hand seems to be in my pocket.
(After picking my phone, wallet and passport out of my pocket, stoops to star undoing my shoelaces.)
Manager: Yes sir it would appear that you are indeed financially getting raped and defiled by my staff and myself, however I shall repeat that all customers are treated the same.
(A drunk man stumbles by, a fresh open wound is on his side, a kidney is clearly missing.)
Now what does this all mean? I shall explain
Menu - Bebidas
Cerveza - €10
Agua (and I mean a really small bottle) - €8
Do you see my point!!
Myself: Well, I suppose if you are gentle I will let you rob me, after all we are here to see the Swedish House Mafia.
Manager: Well, thank you for our corruption.
Myself: Pardon, what did you say?
Manager: I said thank you for your cooperation.
Thus it reaches 11.00pm, the entirety of the Plebs section awaits with baited breath. The big screen flashes the words
So I stride up to the Manager who has got his Vaseline in readiness.
Myself: Excuse me, although Moby is satisfactory, where are the Swedes?
Manager: Did you not read the fine print it categorically states, SWEDISH HOUSE MAFIA presents.
Myself: Fuck! ...would you like me to lie down or just touch my toes?