THE LONG GOODBYE IBIZA 2016

THE LONG GOODBYE IBIZA 2016

 

Space. Ibiza. The Club

Legendary venue. Home to Carl Cox. The ‘Music Is Revolution’ party.

It’s closing!

Big news. I had to think about how that made me feel.

 

 

An Ibiza without Space. Sad, for a moment, to think of the generations who missed out. The incredible 15 year residency that was Carl Cox. No more ‘Music is Revolution’.

 

CARLCOXX

Source: https://goo.gl/images/1IUr12

 

 

It marks the end of an era. I definitely wanted to be there. To feel it.And I knew this early. I was not going to miss out. Ready. Already. I bought my ticket in April. September 20th was going to come around fast.

 

My summer plans were shaping up nicely. A handful of weddings (none of them mine) in far flung places. Lots of fun. So many flights. From Washington DC to Montenegro, I would be clocking up those air-miles. I could feel the rush.

 

What I wasn’t feeling was my shrinking annual holiday allowance.

 

So. Carl Cox. The ‘Music Is Revolution’ Closing Party.Sept 20th. Effectively, a school night. I can’t take time off.

 

 

I don’t want to miss it. How do I pull this off (and avoid a telling off from my boss and HR?) The answer came to me like a revelation. A play on one of my go-to sayings “go hard or go home”. This time, it would have to be “go hard AND go home” – a whirlwind 24 hours in Ibiza!

 

 carl_cox

 source:  https://goo.gl/images/MKImFR

 

Sure, I’ve done the Ibiza Weekender before. It was awesome. I can still feel the thrill of it. But condensing that into 24 hours? (And how much of a ‘rush’ would that feel!) I can do this. I challenged myself.

 

I’ll fly in, I’ll join the thousands. I’ll party ‘til dawn. And be back at my desk for 11.00 Wednesday morning. It would take some planning, stamina for sure (and caffeine always helps). But I was game. I was up for spontaneity.

 

First things first – the flights. Planes are constantly taking off and landing on this Balearic party island, so that won’t be too much of a problem. Besides flights regularly leave Ibiza after midnight. I know this. (I learnt this the hard way, turning up 24 hours too late for my flight one year, thanks to a confusing dates – an expensive mistake, but totally worth it for another day in the sun). Getting to Ibiza on a Tuesday evening from work would be a squeeze but nothing an early morning start couldn’t accommodate - thank God for flexi time. Getting back in time for Wednesday morning would prove trickier.  Being in London, we can make things happen. Flights with Easyjet from London Gatwick embraced the challenge with me.

 

Next up – purpose & pace. I cut down on check-in time by travelling light (just a carry-on with the essentials, and as much as I could wear myself) and ignoring duty free, going directly to the gate.  In fact, cutting out the airport shopping and hotel room, I told myself that I was actually saving money! My new found knack of travelling light was truly liberating (especially at the departure gate). What were all these other people thinking travelling so heavy…

 

We landed on time, (the planets were aligning). We all clapped. I guessed a few others were on the pilgrimage to see Coxy like me. I don’t think they were attempting my quick turnaround. Unlikely. After a quick nip to the ladies to get my party outfit on, I was outside in the taxi queue, feeling very pleased with myself, by 11:30pm. Stand out as Standard.  

 

Rumours were flying about on social media all day, Had people really been queuing outside Space since 5pm? Were there really tickets (not mine) being sold for €500? 

 

Ibiza airport is a 15 minute taxi ride from Space in Playa d’en Bossa. A mere hop & skip. By the time I arrived, pumped and ready to go, ticket in hand, there was a massive queue snaking its way around the building.  For those unfortunate enough not to have a ticket, the ‘one in, one out’ door policy was causing a headache, and heartache not far behind.

 

Once I was in, there was nothing like it.  People had flown in from all over the world. To be part of something big. This final night. Sentimentality engulfed us by way of commemorative flags and group hugs. Mass camaraderie ensued. We all danced with abandon, to a 5-hour raucous set from the big man himself. Carl Cox had the crowd in the palm of his hand, playing just the right mix of old school classics and floor filling bangers. He killed it.

 

ibiza

 source: https://goo.gl/images/W741pe

 

What an amazing night. To be there. In that moment. Waves of happiness washed over me. This is what dreams are made of. I just about managed to make it to the end. Coxy grabbed the mic and addressed the crowd, “Thank you all so, so, so much. This breaks my f***ing heart”. Euphoric and exhausted in equal measure,

 

And that was my cue. Back to the airport. Bathed in the sheer bliss of what had just happened. Hoping to catch forty winks before my bleary eyed flight home. (and no time on my hands for the ‘Not So Secret After Party’ at Benimussa Park).

 

A few hours kip at Ibiza airport. Some more on the plane. I was ready to face the day. The grey light of London. But with an Ibizan afterglow. My desk was bombarded. Everyone was eager to hear all about it. They couldn’t believe it. Mad. Bonkers. Nutter. All Excited and exhausted for me in equal measure. Some, even jealous. Others inspired.

 

 

I did it.

I grabbed life by the neck.

On a school night.

I need to do more of this!

Work-life. Balanced

 

 

 

 

By Sophia,  UNICORN


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