I am acutely aware of my lack of what they call blogging this year and I thought it best to remedy this situation before a year lapses. I’ve been fairly busy, it’s a complicated case. Lotta ins. Lotta outs. And a lotta strands to keep in my head, man. Lotta strands in old Steven’s head. I will make every effort to cover the main bulk of these strands but for now I will stick to most recent activity. This being a holiday to the Playa de las Americas in Tenerife for a week with Ben which commenced on the 3rd October. Olay.
Got there at 11.30am as I was convinced the flight was at 1.20pm. On arrival at the airport we discovered the flight was actually at 3.50pm. A little error there then. Waited until 12.50pm and went to check in, immediately went airside (no man's land) and entered the pub, a dirty Weatherspoons. Had a pint and some carbonara, the beer was dreadful and Ben had a burger which he says smelt like dog food. After this we went and looked round the shops. I Bought Cradle of Egypt for my DSi in HMV.
Après shops we went to Cafe Rouge and had 3 pints each. The flight status then changed from nothing to boarding, so we legged it to the gate only to find the flight wasn't boarding at all. So, we went and had a couple of bottles of beer in the coffee shop and refused to board until there was no queue. We weren't last on, which was my aim, but there were only a few people behind us. I just can't understand why people queue to get on the plane, they're idiots.
Got to the hotel around 10.45am, after probably the most annoying transfer ever – said it would be 20 minutes but took an hour and 40. Put luggage in hotel room, necked some vodka and went out to Veronicas. Not before being told off by the hotel manager that we didn't print off the booking voucher. Passports sufficed, however. Went to a few places and were badgered terribly by the touts who pester you at every waking step you take. Ended up getting a cheese burger and spent most of the early morning in Tramps. I do not remember getting a taxi back or indeed being in a taxi. Met a bloke called Phil; this is about the extent of my memory.
Memory of Monday hazy. It is my belief that I had some cocktails around the pool and slowly migrated towards Sangria. All-inclusive was not good, had a chip roll, setting the trend for the remaining all-inclusive sittings. We went to the quiz at the hotel bar which finished at 10.30pm and then went back to the room.
First day we managed to sample breakfast. Surprisingly not bad, Huxley. Heavy drinking at pool bar all day, we then went to the hotel bar (after a chip roll, of course) and mingled with the other guests (bit of a mistake). Met a Scottish couple called Linda & Steve and a Northern Irish fella, whom I managed to deter by mentioning the Brighton Bombings during our first conversation. He then refused to speak to me. Linda & Steve plied us with sambuca shots and subsequently I went and started talking to anyone who would listen until, oh, 2am I guess.
We managed to make friends with a small person called Rich and another person who went to Veronicas with us. The taxi had to pull up at one point so that Rich could be sick in the street (I have no idea who this person was but I kept telling him I couldn't believe how small he was - didn't see him again after this evening). We went to Yordie's Bar and lost our two new friends and then lost each other. I had 70 cents and the hotel key in my pocket and set off on a rather aimless quest to find the hotel. Got in at 9am.
Spent the entire day in bed. We went out to the all-inclusive in the evening for a chip roll (only thing I ate all day) and then returned to bed.
Managed to get up and go to breakfast. Still felt awful on account of Tuesday's drinking adventure. Had some water with ice in it by the pool and may have progressed to one or two beers. We decided in the late afternoon that we should probably have a walk down to the local area and see the beach. Went to the port area and found a rather spiffing cocktail bar where we stayed until very late and went mad on Blue Lagoon’s, could have been to around 7am. Some bloke called Gary latched onto us at the hotel reception and he came back to the room for vodkas. Don't remember much after that went to bed though.
Can't remember if we made breakfast or not, I suspect not though. I don't recall a thing about the day I think I was asleep and Ben went to the pool bar and started drinking. Went for curry in the evening and went to the same cocktail bar in the port area, the people there recognised us and started talking about Jaeger Bombs and stuff that we were doing there on Thursday - none of it anything I could remember! Stayed there for a sherbert and then we walked to Veronicas. Felt proper ropey but managed to drink through it and felt alright 6 pints later. I then progressed to Smirnoff Ice and wish I had done so sooner, went down very well. We got a taxi back at 4.30am after having a little dance in Tramps.
I managed to get up (somehow) and have breakfast. Ben couldn't face it and stayed in bed. I felt quite good for some reason so in a reversal of Friday's activities I went and drank by the pool whilst Ben slept in bed. Had a good 7 or 8 pints round the pool and got chatting to a couple of people from Conwy in Wales. I went back to the room about 5.30pm to find Ben still in bed. Went out for a steak in the evening and had a few more beers. Went back and went to bed around 10.30pm.
Checkout day. Went and had breakfast and then had a lie down. Went to Aqualand after checking out and stayed there till it closed at 5pm. Went on the Kamikaze ride twice and then saw the life guard at the bottom had a makeshift stretcher attached to his life guard’s chair. Thought better of it after that and stuck to Congo River and the Rubber Dingy Rapids, brother. Had a burger later and had to get a taxi to the airport as our bus transfer didn’t turn up.
A few addition points
1. Ben lost his phone on Tuesday night and we subsequently did not call to find out about the transfer back to the airport – we also forgot anyway as Ben was in bed and I was at the pool bar. When we realised what was happening it was too late to ring as their office had closed and was shut on Sunday.
2. On Tuesday Ben got into the hotel room despite not having a key. We can only assume he got management to let him in.
3. The sausages at breakfast were very nice.
This is a diagram I’ve constructed of where I was on Tuesday night during my 3am disappearance from anywhere distinguishable:
These are the memos that I made on my phone during the holiday, I think I will finish with these:
1. Turned up fucking early to the airport.
2. Monarch decided to fuck up the boarding message on the departures board.
3. Fucking transfer took 1.5 hours, not 20 minutes as stated. Last ones off the coach.
4. Philips speakers no better than dog shit.
5. All-inclusive only good for chip sandwiches, all other food smothered in muck.
6. Ben lost his phone.
7. Six hour trek caused by getting lost and got in at 9am - saw the fucking sun come up whilst walking aimlessly around.
8. Insulted a Northern Irish man by bringing up the Brighton bombing as my introductory welcoming.
9. Going into St Eugen's to discover it was karaoke night and listening to some cunt sing-a-long to the likes of Lionel Richie and 'you're more than a number' for a good twenty minutes.
10. Having to go for a liquid exit no less than three separate establishments on Thursday night.
11. Getting a lighter stolen from some little Spanish shits.
Friday Night’s Memo
1. Negroni cocktail available in the Elvis bar, fucking Dubai cunt. Smashing cocktails, though. He said he was going to leave 3 times now and he's still trying to milk it. JUST LEAVE, PLEASE.
2. Now he goes and they keep expecting us to applaud the mother fucker.
3. Are you okay? Everybody happy? Good evening. I hate you, please stop.
3. Why why why Delilah? We don't know.
4. Five Euro for a pint in Sound of Cream, you're paying the equivalent of four pound thirty four there, a fucking rip off in my book. Six Euro for a vodka diet coke, you do the maths. Good music though, DJ Mr Wilson was very good.
5. Yates. The bloke just plays music and is obsessed with Popeye. A flippin’ idiot who should definitely have gone to chicken cottage for a six ninety nine bargain bucket and not McDonalds. Flippin’ idiot. Ten euro for three drinks, that's two ninety Kubricks at my exchange rate.
6. Every time i burp it feels like sick may well come out, i still have the best part of three pints left to go.
7. It's 3.45am, we've just hit the motherload.
8. Arrive back at 5am, up and down to breakfast at 10.30am. Considering what to have to drink at the pool bar, will probably ask for a pint of water with plenty ice.