Ibiza. Spain

The fact that this log exists showcases that both the Admiral and Captain survived the onslaught of the Island known as Ibiza. Reading the contents of this log entry will make the reader aware that it was not easy to survive and the battles that were fought were hard and long. When you think of this island, think of your childhood, think of that one guy in any sport that was always the best at it, running, cricket, soccer, and now imagine yourself going up against that one person. On game day you, psych yourself up, bring everything you have got and you fight. That is the personification of Ibiza.An already battling Captain awoke to the Admirals calls, sickness in his chest had improved but not yet healed, the time was 4 am and they had to make a rush for the airport to catch their 7 am outgoing flight. The challenge came about not in arising but prepping themselves up for the journey to the Airport. Testing for them, Barcelona was in the middle of a Taxi strike, and even private limos were affected (as in previous strikes taxi drivers attacked the cars) this meant that the only way to commute was using the public transport system.  Luggage in hand the Captain and Admiral made a dash at 5 am to the closest bus rank, they made it just as the bus was pulling up, all luggage in hand they boarded and 15 minutes later were at bus stand number 2 for the second bus. Here the challenge went up a level, as they squished on to a bus carrying the maximum number of commuters along with luggage. The 1 hour journey standing squished was hell to say the least. Squished, standing, sleep deprived, sick all challenging the Captain’s will. Game day was coming up.

Finally making the flight, despite delays and Ryan Air dramas, the pair were off to Ibiza. The flight felt like it was over in a matter of seconds, as both had passed out only to awaken by the cabin crew to remind them that they needed to get off the aircraft now. Finding bearings, facing the island heat, they were off in a cab that coincidently started playing “Took a Pill in Ibiza” – was this a signal? Did they too have to show Avicii they were cool? Pondering their answer, they headed to San Antonio beach, where they were about to rendezvous with the Sippin’ Crew.

It was a grand reunion, hugs, laughs and all out joy, they had finally caught up with Squadron leader Arthur and his Admiral Alisha – Over 18 months ago the duo had been stationed off shore and since then the Captain had not seen them. The lack of sleep, exhaustion and sickness took a back seat for a while. Here they met the other Bedouins who had joined the adventure Major Alfie and Lieutenant Ray. Seems that they were up all night partying it up, sleeping only when the Captain and Admiral had left Barcelona.  The room they had arrived to was very hot, the balcony had been opened but the Captain once again was facing delirium as he needed to be cooled down – Barcelona had been difficult, he was hoping it wouldn’t happen again. Luckily for the Captain there was an Air- Conditioner that they needed to pay extra for, without knowing the cost he ran to reception to request them to enable it.

The crew joined forces, and the Captain and Admiral donned the new ‘We be Sippin’ tee shirts. It was early but never too early to Sip, the crew now sat together and devised a game plan, they too knew that this beast would require the greatest of skill to slay. They decided the first day would be a epic Pool Party at the Ibiza Ocean Beach hotel, and day two would be total annihilation as they slaughtered the Ibiza boat cruise and backed it up with a visit to one of the big clubs.

After some requests form the Captain the crew break up, the Admiral and Captain return to the apartment to get a quick nap whilst the Squadron leader and crew headed to grab some breakfast. It was when they arrived and knocked on the door, the dazed Captain rushed to open it and stubbed his toe on the bed, the stub was bad, there was blood and an instant swelling demonstrating that it could even be broken. An injury just before the proceedings were going to kick off were not ideal, but the Captain knew that once the toxins arrived in his systems the pain would go away. The worried Admiral bandaged his toe up as they were getting ready to drop Major Alfie and Lieutenant Ray to their hotel which was around the corner. Limping along the captain headed down with the crew, stopping at every beautiful lady to have a chat and to get them to chant the “we be sippin’ catch phrase.  They reached the hotel that the Major and Lieutenant were staying at, here both of them worked their absolute magic and managed to get an upgrade. Soon the crew entered their hotel room, which was D.O.P.E! An awesome apartment, with a balcony over the pool and a view of the ocean. This place was incredible. I think the crew all giggled a little after seeing the apartment.

Heading down to the pool at the hotel, the crew got some Pina Coladas and started serenading the bartenders. The time had come, they made their rounds of ‘juice’ started sippin’ and headed off to Ibiza Ocean Beach – Pool party. Walking along the beach esplanade, the testosterone was running as high as the temperature as the boys stopped and introduced the matching tops to various girls they passed on the beach. Finally reaching the club the crew were dazed by the venue. It was epic, a pool party just like the video clips. Cleavage as far as the eye could see. They quickly bought a series of drink coupons at heavily inflated prices and headed over to the pool. The Captain and Admiral starving, ordered an overpriced meal and to put things into perspective of what is meant by overpriced, the meal included a €12 bottle of water ($20 AUD). Soon the crew were deep in a mixture of pool water, cleavage, and alcohol, dancing, swimming, sippin, surviving. The crew had their A- Game on taking a chance to talk to everything beautiful that embraced the party.

As they get more intoxicated, Marshal Mark arrives with his crew member Adrian, the festivities continue. The sun sets, but the Dj Sets keep getting better and better, dancing sipping, time just flies by as fast as the money being poured over the bar.  The night ends around midnight when all that sun and booze show their after effects, an exhausted Captain and Admiral stop by some dinner and head home to get some much needed rest, the crew split, we discover the next morning that Squadron Leader Arthur got home at 2, Ray at 3 and Alfie the machine at 7am.

Hungover AF. The Captain arose to some loud video that Arthur was playing, this continued alongside a pounding headache and pulsating toe for another 15 minutes followed by silence, as Squadron leader Arthur left for breakfast soon after. Hours later he remerged and got the household up, this time the Captain’s headache did not join him.

They got ready, today was game day. Soon they sat by the pool of the Hotel, the crew re-assembled, telling war stories and Sippin. It was determined that the crew were Sharks in a Pond, soon there was a Shona war cry – Tisumahsharkie! The sipping having some dire effects they were feeling pretty cooked, and it was time to head to the Pukka up boat cruise meeting point, where Marshal Mark and Adrian met them.

The Captain and Admiral were well under the influence to the point of slurring when they boarded the small boat the sippin’ had turned to gulping as they pushed to finish the pre-drinks before boarding the Ship. The cure for his possibly broken toe was now in effect. The Captain was in his element and the cruise was absolutely mental. Nothing else to describe it. The most beautiful Mediterranean Sea, littered with Spanish islands, the blaring hot sun, the wind in the face and the sounds of an amazing Pukka up DJ. Here the champagne started to flow, bottle after bottle the crew were on fire, 3 bottles down before the Captain found himself having a chat to the DJ from Sweden and his music producer from the States, who invited them to the Villa for an after party. Exchanging details, they informed the crew of plans. The sun was setting, the Captain & Admiral were peaking and one of the most beautiful sights were before them. Emotions ran high as the boat docked and the three-hour cruise was over.

The crew stumbled out. Intoxicated and drained they decided that they needed to eat and get ready for the night. Marshal Mark and Adrian headed back to the hotel, and despite initial plans to join the Djs, they decided they needed some downtime if they were going to make the night count. A quick dinner on the street, which consisted of a Garlic bread slice for the Captain and Admiral since they did not feel like eating and they headed home to get ready to head out.

Albeit exhausted and the after effects of drinking all day was hitting, they couldn’t stop drinking for long if they were to survive – they quickly got ready and regrouped at the Hotel where the sipping started again and batteries started to charge up once again. The Chants of Tisumahsharkie and ‘ We Be Sippin G’ heard across the hotel halls. Here Marshal Mark joined us to tear up the night.

The crew split in two, with Ray and Alfie heading to see Black Coffee and the remainder of the crew selecting Pacha for the night – it was Paris night, featuring Bob Sinclar and Benny Benassi, It had always been the Captain’s dream to visit Pacha, a club he grew up hearing about, The likes of Ministry of sound, Cream fields and Pacha.  He felt like a kid in a candy store as they arrived at the venue. It was magnificent. The venue was everything the Captain had envisioned and more. they started comparing it to Tomorrowland, but they knew that was like comparing a mountain to an anthill, yet they still enjoyed the vibe, the venue etc.  The beer ridiculously expensive at €9 euro a pop, they refrained for going crazy although a series of gleeful emotions flooding the Captain’s veins mixing nicely with the toxins in his body, once again his mental levels started to peak. Everything was sheer happiness as he stood on his injured toe and danced the night till morning. By the end of it as the clock hit 5am the crew was exhausted, and although the Captain could continue he knew it was time to call it a night and head back.

Still not feeling the hunger aside from the hunger to dance, they made a quick stop and picked up one dirty Kabab that the Captain and Admiral shared. The Marshal not agreeing to such things as eating and deciding that he will sleep it off. They bid farewell to the Marshal and headed back to the apartment with the Squadron leader and his Admiral, struggling to keep down whatever they put in their mouths. Only seconds passed before they were in a comatose state dreaming of the lights of Pacha.

Awaking the next morning – they felt broken, bodies sore, hungover, head hurting, Sundayitis. However amongst the pain of the onslaught,  a slight feeling of satisfaction, as they had overcome the island, as well as a feeling of sadness as they bid farewell to the sipping crew, promising to catch up again soon.