Some memorable nights come about after a well laid plan, and others come about spontaneously, and after 4 hours overdosing on adrenaline I was ready for a beer or two and whatever would follow.
The scene was set when we settled in the bar overlooking the oasis, with our Scottish chums Dawn and Reg from the dune buggy. The first beer arrived and was gone in a flash, on to the next one and Dawn started to tell us about an obnoxious, misogynous chap called Dave who was from London, he had clearly got up her nose but apart from that we were getting along just fine with tales of mountain biking and then time for another beer.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed, Dawn started hissing and then said, “there he Is, Dave from London”, as a chap walked along the balcony and took up a seat near us. To our disbelief, it was “John from Raynes Park”, or Dogbite John as we were calling him. Admittedly he seemed to have his faults but there were daggers looks flying between Dawn and John. This which was a bit awkward as he moved over to talk to us, I decided it was time to have another beer and focus on mountain biking with Reg.
Wooksie pointed out there must be a mistake, as he was called John not Dave, but Dawn had made her mind up and put up the barriers. So, we drank up and headed on to the next big event, the BBQ, which involved lots of lovely foot and lots of Pisco Sours, this evening was really beginning to escalate.
Then our Scouser chums Helen and Glenn appeared and joined in the evolving party spirit that was driven by adrenaline overdoses, free beer and now a bottomless jug of Pisco Sours, along with some young people who thought we were younger than we were.
Poor old John was excluded from the fun, so my wife Wooksie, being a truly lovely person went over and kept John company, Dawn continued her hate session and I got to know the young people as we;; as Glenn and Helen.
When the free beer and Pisco Sours ran out, most people of a certain age retire to bed. So we bid farewell to Dawn and Reg from Scotland along with Dog bite John and I decided to test the water with our new Scouser chums about going on to a later bar.
To be fair, they took no persuading at all so we headed to the infamous “Wild Rover” bar. our coach was due to leave at 6am, but 1 more drink wasn’t going to hurt us, what was the worst thing that could happen anyway (there was the problem right there, that is my out of control mantra).
Wild Rover bar
When we entered the bar there was some strange formalities, like I had to prove my age and my identify, which took at bit of time but it was immediately obvious that this place was built for fun and young party people, and luckily for them we had arrived!
Things started quite slowly with a bit too much Abba for my liking but the young people seemed to be enjoying themselves so I put up with the music and joined in. The more we talked (or by now shouted) at Glenn and Helen the more we realised we had loads in common and the night accelerated even further when we discovered that a jug of Pisco Sour was an amazingly good investment, so we bought two jugs just in case they ran out of jugs.
Wooksie was now picking up a head of steam as well, normally she is quite reserved but clearly the company of Helen was encouraging her, then Bettina from the dune buggy arrived and things seemed to take off even further.
An unfortunate incident was thankfully avoided. Wooksie, who was happily dancing to the music and singing along when she headed to what she thought was the dance floor. Thankfully someone noticed that the aforesaid dancefloor was actually a swimming pool and disaster was avoided when she was ushered in another direction.
Meanwhile, the DJ had now decided to insert some karaoke into the evening mix and there were now young people on stage singing along to the tracks. Glenn and I were moving closer and closer to the stage as we were singing along with increasing enthusiasm and picking up momentum, After “Blue Monday”, Joy Division was just too much for us to take, we couldn’t control ourselves any longer, grabbed the mikes and gave the young people a great version of “Love will tear us apart”, to be honest we didn’t need the microphones.
At this point, we noticed a disturbance at the bar, to our amazement one of the bar staff was now walking along the bar pouring free tequila down punters throats. It was just like the scene from Coyote Ugly, amazingly I’d always wanted to do that. The young people were a bit tentative in their indulgence so Glenn and I hustled our way to the front to have copious amounts of tequila poured down our throats whilst Wooksie looked upon with horror.
By 3am, the best of the evening had been had, then we remembered that we had a bus to catch in 3 hours, it had completely slipped our memory, Wooksie was having a lovely time with the cool people near the bar, Glenn and I were still telling stories and becoming friends for life.
Turning the music off didn’t quell our enthusiasm and eventually we were politely ushered from the establishment and sent on our way home. We wandered the streets wondering where we lived and eventually, we found our hotel and got our heads down by 4am.
Breakfast started at 530am and unfortunately it turned out the kitchen was right beside our bedroom, and the preparation started at 5am. So our was curtailed after about an hour by the sound of clanking pans.
It’s always amazed me how much damage one hour’s sleep can be to your physical state, I went to bed at 4am very happy and when I was awoken at 5am to the sound of banging pots, I felt like a dead rat had crawled into my head, farted a lot, had thrown up before dying on my tongue.
At 5.45 we gathered all our gear together, grabbed a drink and some fruit and headed for the rendezvous for the coach to see the Nazca lines, which was only 4 hours away in a minibus.
Dawn and Reg were waiting for us, with big smiles on their faces and were happy to share what a great nights sleep they had enjoyed and asked us how our night had gone.
I think our eyes told the story, but it was time to head on to one of our big events of the holiday, the Nazca lines.
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