TOM: It’s 5am on a Friday morning and EasyJet, the kings of the unfriendly flight times, have a 05.35 from Gatwick to IBZ – its hardly worth going to bed but hey ho a weekend in the world’s top Island awaits
Why does it not feel like 5am? Gatwick is rammed – chaos – people “on it” and spirits are high. I count 7 (yes SEVEN) stag/hen parties – the “victim” (groom or bride) it seems must be dressed as someone they are not – a sheik/ballet dancer/jockey (he is small)/nurse and various others. Good luck to them is my view – not my thing but live and let live – they are happy!
But I’m glad I’m going to Ibiza – the sexiest island on earth – mention Ibiza in LA or Vegas at Tomorrowland or even Glastonbury, New York or London and all humans nod in appreciation of a Worldwide Icon – a distant place from the Stag/Hen groups going to whatever downmarket cheap and cheerful corner of the Med that they are off to
Well f**k me – not 1 but all 7 stag/hen parties are on the same flight as me – to Ibiza and I’m sitting next to the jockey who is being force fed Vodka and red bull.
One guy really stands out as a bit of a weird dude – black jeans, T shirt, beats headphones, a tattoo, earring and short hair – I think he is a DJ – He must be thinking he’s on the wrong flight?????
For anyone who has a connection with Ibiza from the 80s of Wham to Calvin Harris today there is a sense of being part of something special – unique – precious.
So am I too protective of my memories, have I become an Ibiza snob? It’s mine and I want it to stay special!
Or – Is Ibiza wandering towards Benidorm??
p.s. the jockey is now asleep on my shoulder 😦