As he spoke, he was spraying himself very generously withJoop! to cover up the smell of the antihistamine cream he’d smeared all overhis bites.
“I’d go easy on that if I were you,” I said. “You’re meantto use it sparingly, not go around smelling like you’ve had a bath in it.”
“Better safe than sorry,” he said, adding some deodorant tothe mix. “It gets pretty hot and sweaty in those bars.”
He had a point. It was mid-July in Ibiza, and absolutelysweltering. I decided to spray a bit of extra deodorant on myself. I didn’twant Sarah’s first impression of me to be of some bloke with B.O.
Soon we were ready: two smartly dressed young men ready topaint San Antonio red. We were to meet in the bar downstairs at 8.30pm.
Although the event had been put on for the new arrivals, noone had said we couldn’t go. Nick had done it all before, but I hadn’t, sotechnically, in my eyes, I was a new arrival, too.
I knew for a fact that Sarah and Sam would be down there inthe bar, but I also knew that we wouldn’t actually start talking until we gotto the first bar in town.
She had recounted the tale of how we’d first met many times,which was just as well, since I couldn’t remember it. All I needed to do nowwas stick to the script.
We headed downstairs. I was eager to get my first glimpse ofmy future bride, and sure enough, there she was, long, golden hair cascadingdown over a light blue dress that came down to just above her knees, chattingto Sam.
I steered us over towards them, curious to see if I couldcatch her eye. She glanced in our direction, but looked straight through us asif we weren’t even there. It seemed I hadn’t left much of an initialimpression, even though Sarah had sworn blind to me in years ahead that it hadbeen love at first sight.
So, I bided my time until we got to the first bar, where ouroft-recalled first meeting had happened. We left the hotel in a large group andthe reps led us out of the hotel, through the streets, and towards the musicsquare in the centre of town.
It was a vibrant, buzzing place with touts on every cornerdesperately trying to tempt the punters into one of the dozens of bars thatlined the narrow streets with their various offers. It seemed that the BOGOFconcept wasn’t something that was just confined to supermarkets.
I made sure we held back a little and walked just behindSarah and Sam so I could listen to their conversation. They were babbling awayexcitedly in their Welsh accents, talking about Es Paradis, one of the mainclubs in San Antonio.
The four of us had been there already, on Wednesdayafternoon when they’d held a water party on the dance floor, so I made a mentalnote to enthuse about it when we got talking.
I couldn’t hear a great deal of what they were saying as Ihad Nick babbling on in my ear about some other bar he’d heard about where youcould drink as much as you wanted in an hour for 1,000 pesetas.
“We’ll go there tomorrow,” I answered, annoyed at hisattempts to derail my plans for the evening. “I want to stick with the rest ofthe group tonight, give us a chance to meet some of the new people.”
When we got to the bar, there were not many people there,but it soon filled up. All of the Club 18-30 holidaymakers from all of thehotels had convened in the same place, and before long it was “banging”,another favourite word of the reps.
There was a dance floor area at the back and as we orderedour drinks the music began playing, a recent hit from Run-DMC vs Jason Nevinsblasting out from the sound system.
Sarah and Sam had moved over to the edge of the dance floor.They’d ordered a fishbowl, full of Tequila Sunrise, and had placed it on achest-high table at the edge of the floor. They were tapping their feet to themusic as they swiftly drained the bowl through their straws.
Nick and I both had pints of lager. I wasn’t a huge lagerfan, but clubs and bars in Ibiza didn’t tend to cater for real ale enthusiasts.I gestured towards them, and said to Nick, “Hey, what do you reckon to thosetwo?”
He looked across and said, “Yeah, she’s well, tasty. Theblonde one, that is. Don’t fancy yours much, though.”
I thought he was being a bit harsh. OK, Sam was a littlechubby, with freckles and frizzy dark hair, but she wasn’t that bad. She’dultimately ended up being Sarah’s bridesmaid at our wedding, which had been alittle uncomfortable for Nick who was best man.
I didn’t see Sam much after that because she drifted out ofour lives once Sarah settled permanently in Oxford. She was a nice enough girl,but Nick wasn’t very keen on her.
After the holiday, she’d tried to keep in touch with him,but he didn’t want to know. He’d never mentioned the fact that he’d fanciedSarah before, though. Perhaps he’d stepped aside once I’d beaten him to it.
Looking at the way he was eyeing her up now, I realised Iwas going to have to make my move before he tried anything. I couldn’t have thewhole of the next 27 years being changed by something as trivial as letting himspeak to her first.
“Don’t you mean yours, mate?” I replied, “I saw them first,I’m calling shotgun,” and I strode quickly across towards them.
“Hang on a minute,” he tried to protest but it was too late,I was committed. Destiny was calling and there was nothing he could do aboutit.
After that, it all went swimmingly. I offered to buy her adrink, got chatting, drank heavily as we moved from bar to bar, and eventuallyended up in a drunken snog in Es Paradis.
It was already gone 3am by this time, which didn’t leave memuch longer with her. My curfew on European time at this time
