A pensioner on the loose

Ibiza has always been a gap in my back catalogue of life, I’ve been all over the world having a great time, parties, adventures and visiting the best places, but for some reason Ibiza had passed me by and I do enjoy a gritty clubbing night out, so at this late stage in my life, it was a chance to fill the gap, so I said “great, let’s go”.

Technically I think I’m a Baby Boomer, but what the hell !

After the first night, we are on a roll

Time to go clubbing

Next day I was amazed we were up in time for breakfast, went for a walk and by the Premier League kicked off we found ourselves in Ibiza Rocks bar, listening to an excellent DJ, watching the games and preparing for the second night. Things were rather complicated by a friend of my mate (Sue) coming over and needing to be picked up at the airport in the evening. This was a good opportunity to doze of the beer before preparing for the night out, which was one of the biggest clubs in the world, Hi Ibiza, formerly Space.

Hi Ibiza and Glitterbox

Sunday is one of their big nights, with the Glitterbox theme. We pitched up at midnight and it was only EIGHTY FIVE (85) euros to get in, Sue proved her worth at this point and scrounged some discount armbands from outside Ushuaia, so it was only 55 euros. It was only 15 euros for a water, quite a bargain really.

So, this was it, my first visit to an Ibiza super club. The clientele was an interesting mix for sure, no youngsters as it was too expensive, people in bondage garb, and most of all, a few grey foxes like me, though more bald than grey in my case.

The place takes around 5500 people, and it was rammed, if one person had a cold we were all going to get it. First room was the main room, which was huge dance floor surrounded by VIP suites and balconies. Big sound system and graphics wall as you would expect, the problem was that it was so rammed there was hardly room to move let alone dance, people were moving around and bashing into the people dancing. To be honest, first impressions were that it was crap, you can’t enjoy a night club if you can’t dance and the first DJ in there didn’t help so we moved on.

I was then informed by my chums that we were off to the Toilet room, the next dance floor. It. seemed an odd name, and we squeezed into the space that indeed looked like a toilet. It was so full that the only part of my body I could move was my head, which eventually gave me a sore neck. I then realised we were actually in a toilet.

They had put a DJ booth in the bog, while we were dancing there were people pissing and dumping in the cubicles, The DJ was brilliant and seemed to have her whole family in the booth with her mixing drinks and selling them to the people pushed against the screens, writing this up I’m beginning to wonder if the whole thing was a figment of my imagination, anyway, I went in a cubicle just to have a dump with a DJ playing 3m away for the experience.

A bit confused, we headed for the Club room, and this was the real deal. Phenomenal sounds system, top music, people dancing everywhere and even a bit of space at the back near the fire exit for me to get going. Unexpectedly a pole dancer appeared (see video) in the middle of the dance floor and displayed amazing skills on the pole, this caused me a bit of a problem.

A Simple misunderstanding

As it happens my youngest daughter took up pole dancing as a hobby, so I was admiring the dancer’s amazing agility, so I did a quick video and sent it to my family. To my horror, they thought I was in a lap dancing club at 4am and I woke up to lectures and abuse from all of them the next day.

We finished off the night back in the main room, which had thinned out and the last set was brilliant. A dance mix based on Talking Heads “Once in a Life Time” is now permanently baked into my memory of the night with more videos of dancers just to agitate my family. After that it was back to San Antonio for a pizza and in bed by 6am.

The mother of all storms hits town

Day 3 we didn’t make it to breakfast and much of the day was lost eating and enjoying the sun because a storm was being forecast for that night. The clouds came in and it got a bit muggy, but at midnight we headed out to the West End again for some predrinks before heading to Eden that night.

At about 1230, there were spots of rain, after 5 minutes it was time to take our drinks inside, and after 45 minutes the main drag was a torrent of water, the deluge was unbelievable. After an hour there was enough water coming down the street to use a body board. We had been in tropical storms in Costa Rica only 8 weeks ago and now the weather god had tracked me down in Ibiza. By the time we splashed out way to Eden, the streets were 2 inches deep in water and we were soaked through to the skin.

This was our 3^rd night, and my body clock was adjusting and ready to go at 2am. Unfortunately, the storm had put the dampers on things, but we were undeterred and headed into Eden, which was probably less than half full and everyone was soaked. If it hadn’t been for the circumstances, I think this would have been my favourite club, a bit grungier and full of people wanting to dance rather than just “be there”.

My commentary on Eden is a bit brief mainly because I can’t remember much about what happened, other than dancing and thinking the water was cheap at 10 euros a bottle and the disappointment that the pizza shack was closed when we left, or maybe it was just washed away and another 5am night under the belt.

Next morning didn’t really exist and we missed another breakfast, and again I woke up to more WhatsApp messages, this time checking I was alive, turns out the storms on the island were all over the UK news, especially in Ibiza Town. God looks after drunks I always say. I even had a civil emergency warning on my phone which wasn’t easy to process as my grip on reality was weakening.

The Legendary Pikes Hotel

Research into the options on Ibiza for oldies had highlighted the legendary Pikes as the place to go. So, we kept this one for our last night and it was great fun, the Wham video of Club Tropicana was filmed here, it was Freddie Mercury’s holiday retreat, and the owner Tony Pike was at the centre of the Ibiza phenomenon.

It was a relief to be able to go somewhere that opened before midnight, so a few predrinks, then we picked up Sue and off we went for a 10pm start. We needed an early night as we were flying home the next day.

When we arrived, we were confronted by the house rules, which seemed very appropriate and contributed to an excellent night. My daughter in law expressed her surprise that I was allowed in with these rules !

The whole place was really quirky and cool, though the swimming pool was a bit tempting for an adventurous spirit like mine but they soon moved us inside after 11 so the residents of the hotel could sleep I guess.

 Unbelievably, there was no entry fee on the door, and the drinks were less than 10 euros, so I drank beer instead of water for the night. The music was amazing and a dark and sweaty dance floor as well. When it got to 2.30am with no sign of letting up, we decided to call it a day, it was now or it would be 5am again before we knew it, so I grabbed a naughty photo of the garden on the way out !

The amazing things was that we didn’t seem to have hang overs as our body clocks had adjusted, though once we got home the Ibiza flu kicked in we’ve all been feeling crap since, but we will get over it and only have the memories of a great few days.

I’ve also discovered I’m proudly hedonistic – so on to the next pleasure, but not before arriving home with horrendous colds/flu symptoms and spending a week in recovery.

It’s almost as if I am too old for this stuff – nah.

Lets get the party started in San Antonio

Is 66 too old to go clubbing in Ibiza, so technically I’m a Baby Boomers. This was the first question I asked myself after my mate “The Mechanic” announced he had bought us a short break in Ibiza, as a “thank you” for helping him out. I was also overwhelmed because no one buys me anything much anymore

Ibiza has always been a gap in my back catalogue of life, I’ve been all over the world having a great time, parties, adventures and visiting the best places, but for some reason Ibiza had passed me by and I do enjoy a gritty clubbing night out, so at this late stage in my life, it was a chance to fill the gap, so I said “great, let’s go”.

I did a bit of research and over 40s and 50s seemed to be enjoying it over there, so why not. I had been late into the dance music scene 35 years ago, so had always been one of the oldest in a venue, or “the oldest swinger in town” as my wife puts it and I’m not particularly self conscious.

The thing I try to remember is that I’m a guest in the young people’s world, so it is important to respect them having a good time and get into the spirit of the event, only speak to them if they speak to me, don’t oggle, and don’t be a twat or be one of them. Keep a smile on your face and get into the party mood and nobody has ever troubled me up until now.

The Easyjet Ibiza Express

First challenge was the flight out from Bristol. there were clearly 3 distinct groups heading to Ibiza. Firstly, there were the young ones in their teens or early 20s on their lads or lasses’ holiday and making a lot of noise. The second group were stag and hen weekenders to celebrate something, often with two generations of family involved and they made even more noise getting on the flight, the final group were the grandparents heading to their all-inclusive and full English breakfast holidays. The Mechanic and I tried not to be associated with any group and listened to music looking cool.

The EasyJet steward was French and less than cool, lacked any sense of humour after no doubts a long week and then drawing the Saturday night Ibiza Express shift. As soon as the door shut, he was up on the microphone giving everyone a lecture and warning us that if anyone made any more noise, we would not be going anywhere.

At this point a Welsh hen group told him to cheer up and started singing, in response he threatened to turn the plane around (we had only gone about 25m) if there was anymore lip. So, we headed to Ibiza in a plane full of drunk people who did a lot of sniggering and giggling, mostly uncontrolled, that reached a crescendo after the drinks trolley tour and the alcohol levels had been topped up, we came into land.

San Antonio West End strip

We arrived in Ibiza and made our way to the hotel in San Antonio by midnight. The hotel lobby was full of young people around the age of my youngest lad; he would have been quite at home sitting in reception at midnight staring at his phone as well. So, we quickly unpacked, plugged in my speaker, cranked up the music, opened the duty free and went out on the balcony to see the sights and sounds of San Antonio, including a view of the Eden night club which was next door.

The hotel balconies were full of party goers, so no chance of an early night.

After a quick scrub up we headed to the West End strip (there are a few strips around apparently), a street of bars that seemed to be in place for one purpose, debauchery and fun, not to mention drugs that were on sale on every corner. It had just about every type of entertainment on offer so we settled for an Irish bar as a safe haven to get our bearings and enjoy the fun atmosphere.

To be honest, we were amongst the oldest party goers in town, but it didn’t seem to matter as the party rolled on. We ended up in the Saona bar opposite the Irish Bar (we didn’t have to wander far) with probably the most bonkers DJ I have ever seen, not to mention his mate the Italian answer Eminem who looked a lot better than his singing but it all added up to a great night.

The night drew to a close around 4am and we headed home but not without a bizarre incident. As we headed out of the strip, I was accosted by a woman of the night offering a range of services that I didn’t need, whilst groping around my person. I politely declined her offers and wandered on. 60 seconds later she tapped me on the shoulder and gave me my wallet and ran off.

As you can imagine, I was a bit confused and hugely grateful for her honesty. I assumed she had found it on the floor, so I ran after her to say thank you and to give her some cash as a gift. When I tapped her on the shoulder and said thank you, she looked very confused as well, it was at that point I opened the wallet and found she had already taken a “thank you” in the form of all my cash. However, I still had my cards and driving licence so wandered off happy and 10 euros poorer.

Next day I was amazed we were up in time for breakfast and ready to go after the night before.