Night one. After a three hour flight delay, *shakes fist at Aer Lingus* we were pretty low spirited and fed up. That is, until we walked onto the strip and ONE average looking British guy said ''Awwrite, You Oirish guurls cumin inta our bawr?''
From that moment on we behaved like nymphomaniac alcoholics on day release.
The following few hours were a blur of sand, sambuca and vomit which was documented only by some extremely questionable photographs, from some even more questionable angles.
Inevitably, the six of us got split into two groups. One group had the only two sets of keys, the rest of us, had me and an insatiable urge to go home and vomit before curling up in the fetal position for the rest of the foreseeable holiday.
With the mix of alcohol and my alien surroundings, I was extremely irked.
I demanded that one of my unfortunate friends place some aggressive calls under my squinting, but watchful gaze to one of the girls who had a key. The girl in question I have nicknamed Snape for the purpose of the blog. It's a nickname she earned in Magaluf when she let her hair dry naturally one day, in the fashion of Severus Snape himself. It's a nickname I believe she's extremely fond of.
''Hey...am, yeah Snape...Yeah you should probably come back to the flat. Saucy's quite angry now...yeah, yeah she's looking at me right now....''
This was not to my taste. I WANTED MY BED. No one was going to enjoy themselves until I had been provided with it.
I snatched the phone.
''HELLO, SNAPE? SNAPE?? SO YOU THINK YOU CAN HEAD OUT AND HAVE FUN, HUH? THINK YOU'RE 'ON HOLIDAYS' DO YA? DO YA???.....''
I started to do my angry phone walk. It's when I place one hand firmly on my hip put my head down and pace in an extremely animated fashion.
I frog marched forward, frowning with the phone glued to my ear.
I energetically walked/ran into what had to be the cleanest and thickest glass door in Spain. I feel three feet backwards from the sheer force and proceeded to stumble around in circles like an electrocuted lamb.
This above sentence is brought to you with the benefit of hindsight. To me, I had been walking along when I was suddenly three feet back from where I started with a wet face. It wasn't until the stars I'd been seeing cleared that I could focus on what looked like a splotch of blood seemingly floating in mid air in front of me, illuminated by my phone which had fallen on the floor...
Yes indeed, that really was the cleanest glass door in all of Spain until I burst my nasal cavities all over it. I put my hand to my mouth in shock. It came away scarlet red. Oh dear. I stared and stared.
'Hello? Hello, Saucy? Are you still there.....?'
Snape's voice floated up from my phone on the pavement, dragging my clumsy drunken brain back to reality. Shit, I just walked into a door....
Anyone else's first thoughts may have included: 'let me go and find some medical attention, or a tissue at the very least', or perhaps 'maybe I should now walk into the glass door NEXT to the one I just walked into, which is and was being held open for me'. But my first, and solitary thought:
'THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING. QUICK, DON'T LET ANYONE NOTICE.'
Oh alcohol, how you continue to manipulate my thoughts.
Subtlety is not my forte, let me tell you that much. I tried to, as inconspicuously as I could, scoop the torrents of blood which were now flowing rapidly from my chin and nonchalantly place it back on my face.
I picked up the phone.
'Hello, Snape? Yeah....I'm still here.'
To the shocked passers-by, I stood there with a very fixed blasé expression on my face, continuing my phone conversation while casually smearing blood on my own face. Cheeks, forehead, chin, everywhere and anywhere that wasn't already flowing blood. Just scooping up the fresh blood....and putting it back on my face. Picking up the blood....and putting it on my face. Kind of like when you're a kid in school and you sneeze and the most humungus snot you've ever seen in your life comes out, and you decide to conceal this by casually wiping it the length of the arm of your school jumper. My method was both as unsuccessful and obvious, but about tenfold more disturbing. Not to me though. To me it was a stroke of genius. In my head, if ALL of my face was red, the blood in contrast would be practically invisible. Thus to the naked eye, no one would know I had walked into a door.
At that moment, Snape returned. I'd done such a 'good job' of hiding my injury, I'd actually forgotten about it myself. I stood up to greet Snape, with the big Christian-Bale-in-'American-Psycho' head on me.
'Saucy...oh my g-'
'Snape! I don't wanna hear it. In future, just make sure someone with a key is around to leave us in.'
'But Saucy....your face...'
'I know, Snape. You can probably tell by my expression how truly angry I am, but I'd like us to put this behind us now....'
Snape stared open mouthed at me.
I misread this to be shock on her part at how very forgiving I could be. And with that I walked without another word, to bed, where I lay like an extra from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
This, combined with the Home & Away incident made for an extremely exciting holiday. Developing a cold made the whole thing very exhilirating. I literally could have been anywhere, at anytime, with any one and at a mere moments notice, I would sneeze; ejecting blood and all manner of unwelcome junk on my person and all unfortunate surroundings. Charming. The scottish men were absolutely flocking to me.
Part three en route!
The Saucy Cow