AUGUST 2006 :: IBIZA 06 - TAKING ONE FOR THE TEAM
If you ever find yourself spending a week as the designated driver for a carload of drunken lunatics, you might benefit from some of my experiences:
When they babble incomprehensibly at you, just nod, smile and agree with everything they say. It’s ok, they don’t have a clue what they’re saying either!
When one of them walks up to you and has the same conversation with you for the 16th time, be patient with them, it’s not their fault.
“yes this DJ’s name is Steve Angelo”
“yes he is good isn’t he?”
“yes he's the resident”
“I know, yes”
Re the prolonged sweaty dance floor hug. All I can say is the sooner you hug back, the sooner it’ll end ;)
The volume control on the car steering wheel is your friend. With practice you should be able to discretely turn the volume back down every time the passenger pumps up the volume and yells TUNE!
Bring back the lost artform known as “the mime”, don’t ask, just try it. Go on.
Oh, once they start picking fights with people in wheelchairs it’s probably time to leave them to their own devices!
17 AUGUST 2006 :: PACHA IBIZA
I could rant for hours on this subject, although, like most things in life it's probably best summed up with a Simpsons quote.
Worst. Club. Ever.
Military intelligence is a contradiction in terms.