“Enough to make a football hooligan blush: What happens when 8,000 British students descend on a Spanish family holiday resort” – this is what was posted by the Daily Mail about our antics. Read the full article here.
“Suddenly there was a flashing light outside Snoepy’s nightclub and the young woman was being put on a stretcher by paramedics.”
Yes, that was us.
Paramedics, projectile vomiting, a few incidents of drowning, being kicked out of the hotel, being refused by all airlines due to our reputation; this was the most shameful chapter of my life. Do I regret it one bit?
Not at all.
Don’t get me wrong, I love culture, I love art, and I love whipping up a few pretentious paragraphs when I’ve been somewhere nice; it’s what I do. I’m a travel writer. But every so often, I get the urge to dress like trailer trash, drink like trailer trash and act like trailer trash. Tour, tour, tour – the arena of shame – how I’m not ashamed to know you at all.
We were an embarrassment, so much so, that I don’t feel I can add any more to this chapter.
Let me just end with saying that there was very little sport going on, on this “sports tour”, but I guess that’s the beauty of it.