Recovery

Well, kinda. Only in the sense that I was drinking and dancing lots, but this time, at a beach...

I did try to chillax and catch some rays on a deckchair, but it was too hard. The music was great and it was impossible to ignore. Bora Bora is like an after party beach bar. Wrong place for recovery. Every so often a plane flies over us and a cheer breaks out from the mob. If it's an incoming, we all knew what those people on the plane had ahead of them. The party's just getting started. If it's an outgoing, we all felt for the poor bastards who've had to leave the island.

16 hours later, as I was passing out on a deckchair back at Bora Bora after another clubbing marathon, a girl approaches me and squats down for a whispered conversation.
Girl: "I saw you dance the other day."
Me: "Err, okay..."
Girl: "You looked really cool. And I was wondering..."
Me thinking: Maybe I'm about to get invited to a VIP party!
Girl: "... if you would like my spare drugs because I'm going home today."

*lol* Okay, so maybe, I dance a little retardedly :) I obviously attract attention.

Thank you Babe, for showing me Ibiza Uncovered ;) It definitely had a lot less drunken Chavs than I expected. I'm no longer an Ibiza virgin, and I have a great tan to show for it.

AdF, you're next to be initiated! Bring on your 30th!