LONG blog post – IBIZA

Hey guys, i wondered if you guys wonder if its a webmaster or me, infact everything, all your emails, all the social media, all the content, all the bug fixing on the reply, replies to the helpdesk. is all done by me – i am an IT consultant by day but not at all a web developer, so ive learnt as i’ve gone along and very so much so enjoyed it

I plan to get to bed early tonight to film 45 minutes of video in the morning while it is still dark ūüôā if i have time before work i will edit them and get some up, if not then itl be after graft ūüôā

Finally, i totted up a little paragraph or six of my few days in ibiza – hopefully itl be a little giggle ūüôā

And before I paste it in – ive also embedded a youtube shoutout for flexing lads channel ūüôā

and for the google hangout – its currently under re review ūüôā


Ibiza ibiza.. ibiza….
So I flew in with 2000¬†joshuaarmstrong.co.uk¬†business cards¬†+ fliers in my pockets! My first mission was getting to sleep! I had 3 videos to make and deliver them before my flight. I got to the hotel at¬†10 pm¬†at night and my flight was at¬†6am. So I did what I always do… got the coffee on and man, get the f*ck up and get to it.

I smashed through the 3 videos and delivered them to my lovely customers. Then getting my head down around¬†1am¬†for the4am¬† wake up to the airport. The airport hotel (Manchester Airport) shuttled me to the airport… but, before I¬†left I decided to leave some Joshua cards on the toilets in the¬†Manchester Airport hotel (tee hee naughty Josh).

I arrived in the airport and my first stop was security. I went straight through with no issues and no worries with clean pockets and record!

Went to the airport lounge because my second stop was obviously PROTIEN. I found myself a nice 10 egg white omelette with spinach and lots of salt and pepper. If you guys could have seen the woman’s face who served me, it was a picture worthy moment. But¬†it took about 15 minutes to explain to her why I don’t eat diary, wheat, etc. Then eventually I had to speak directly to the chef, who also as blank as a chalk board.

Once that was over with, it was time to wait for the plane… so I used my first trick again and left business cards in the Manchester Airport toilets! I went around to all the systems and left 10 cards a piece on each of them. I looked very suspicious going in and out the cubicles, because lets face it… I’m not exactly discrete, am I?

So boarding the plane… sat on the plane, didn’t choose any certain seat, just got the cheapest possible option as I am not a man of luxury. I go with the flow and I am happy with anything given to me. I know I am blessed to be from a country like the UK when I know others suffer so much. I never ever ever complain about ANYTHING, but some dick decided to be well… a dick and managed to get himself thrown off the plane. Luckily, the airport police came and did it before I threw him off.

Little plane ride later¬†and I arrived in¬†Ibiza!! To rain ūüėÄ

I landed with nizoral over my arms from a shower in the night before to dry up my crappy skin which has plagued me ever since travelling to the USA and sleeping a total of 3 hours in around 2 weeks lol. I met up with some lads then went straight to Café Mambo for steak and veg, which was followed by another steak and veg, which was finally followed by a final steak and veg.

Not going to lie,¬†I got some looks ordering 3¬†back to back steaks but they were need and by god they were nice with just water. But the night out was not due until later on at Es Paradis. So for the time being, it was me just dishing out business cards in and around San Antonio… which ended up me just eating in many places before going back to the room for a shower, a freshen up, a gel up, and down to the first super club. I kept the drinking¬†relatively light (honest)¬†but one of the funniest parts of the night was in the middle of Es Paradis was the rodeo bull, which had been brought out, was calling me.

I refused to get on it. Refused again and again and again until soon enough, the entire club had egged me onto it… 20 minutes later, no f*ker could get me off it. The only reason I stepped down is because the bastard cow took a 3rd degree burn out of my hand. Which has caused belly ache ever since coming back when gripping dumbbells (picture as shown!! Lol!)

I had a great night stomping¬†away like a madman till¬†6pm. I then headed back, but before heading back to the apartment via whatever shop I could find open for tuna +rice cakes, which turned into 6 tins of tuna and a full pack of rice cakes before passing out and waking up at wait for it…¬†6pm.

Yeah good attempt at marketing and enjoying the sun that day¬†Josh “doh”… oh btw,, before anyone says¬†‘you missed the sun’!! Blah blah! There was no sun, it’s the end of September and it was raining! Ha!

So night two-” play 2″ and proper hardcore rave. Straight from the wake up, into a steak and veg meal, a quick glycogen fill up with some haribo, and down the west end I went to support a friend of mine’s night. Vested up and getting poked left, right, and center, but had a blast and yet again rocked in and fell down until late tea time.

About half the business cards remained at this point, so my thoughts went to delegation and the remainder of the days I decided to keep an eye out for someone to leave them with who I could trust to help me out.

Upon waking up on my 3rd and final night, it was the Space’s closing party, via the Zoo Project for the full day, so we were up early and getting me painted. I actually got painted twice: first by myself really, really badly. Kinda looked like the Radioactive Chlamydia man.

Then at like¬†6-7pm, some wonderful ladies became available to re-spray me properly green and awesome; however, it actually took 8¬†cans of body paint to¬†cover my required body mass, when¬†usually it would take 1-2… this amused me greatly.

After bouncing around at the Zoo Project for sometime, I got a private taxi to the Space. It was for the closing party with Carl Cox.

So here I am, dressed this time as the hulk¬†(not lime green but properly hulky), getting to skip thousands just because I’m green and nobody wanted to be near me, bouncers asking for selfies, owners asking for selfies, and clubbers asking for selfies with me from the beginning of the¬†night till the end.

In fact, I spent my time in the quietest room (the smoking room) for two reasons: one, because I was going to die of heat in any of the other main rooms and two, there were less people wanting a picture of me. In the end, we started charging for the selfies. As I was drinking very little and don’t really smoke. I decided to provide for my friends. So in order to have a selfie with the lime green hulk/Radioactive Chlamydia¬†man you were required to give¬†one of my two pals either a drink or a fag, of which everyone obliged!

It turns out the total number of selfies taken¬†was 300+. So if you have a look through your friends social media pictures over the time of the Space closing parties, more than likely I’ll be in a picture somewhere. I also vaguely remember signing some kind of model release form, too bad I didn’t ask for it.

So, my return flight was at¬†11:30am, the night finished at¬†6am¬†and I had to stay awake, because if I slept there was no way¬†I was¬†making it. So what did I decide to do? Yeah that’s right- walk around¬†San Antonio¬†bay looking like and absolute tit from6:30-9am¬†¬†eating KFC and ice cream. I did exchange some selfies with shop keepers (yep the selfies exchanging continued).

I rocked back to the apartment and packed my back and was ready to go down to get a cab. Before I knew it, I came around on the floor 6 hours later! All of my useless friends still down and out for the count. I had completely missed my flight.

Alarm bells started ringing at this point, but¬†if I’ve learned one lesson, it is that¬†Shit Happens. So I sat down and jumped on my phone (bought the data for this reason) looked for return flights, and managed to not get ripped off to get back… unfortunately, it was the wrong airport. But nevermind, a taxi back¬†in the UK could sort that out.

So what to do for my final night Ibiza that I was not expecting to be there for? The mood to go out was not there. I am not naturally a partier, I just enjoy it every once in a while to not seem a complete hermit.

The answer was… we went to the local supermarket and I treated everyone to 130 Euros worth of sweet, savoury and ice cream and we sat¬†and ate crap till we passed out. I was¬†so depleted from all the bouncing on¬†little food, my body needed the reefed and it welcomed it. I just bounced back to my usual size where as everyone¬†else¬†felt fat! Ha!

The next day was the return trip home! I found a local guy, who was well connected in San Antonio, who I left the remainder of my business cards with. He promised to distribute them and I have noticed¬† some traffic sources from¬†Ibiza¬†on my Google analytic since returning but really not many… experience and story on the other hand! Another league!

I packed my bags and I was off to the airport. I ended up throwing all my clothes in the bin as the 5kg hand luggage didn’t apply to the 20kg luggage I’d pad for, which was stated on the telephone as available as carry on. Therefore, I just binned everything instead of checking in 9kg. Really could NOT be arsed with the luggage on the carousel on the other end, was feeling poorly.

Got through security (just) as I was still a painted a little green and at this point it looked like an illness. I managed to get 6 scrambled eggs. My god that was difficult to say no toast, no bacon, no sausage, no tomato, etc. whilst knowing no Spanish and the Spanish only know how to eat crap.

Jumped on the plane and decided to see who the roulette was that I got to sit next to. To my pleasure, it was a young little raver, who had been at it very hard for 8 days. Bless her! She couldn’t believe my stories. She was shivering, so I decided to be¬†the gentleman and purchased her an on flight¬† sleep blanket. I gave it to her and got called a gem then went to sleep myself.

Upon arriving in the WRONG airport, a taxi was required to the correct airport. After battling for a £70 set fair, I was able to transfer from Leeds to Manchester, where I was able to jump into my motor and begin on the road back to the north-east part of England with the windows down, the music was up, and the heater was on full blast. At this point, I just wanted one thing, to be at my end destination. I was sick of energy drinks and selfies.

I just wanted a few things: some protein (no pun intended), a wash, and my bed. Of course luck would have it, upon my arrival I was unable to move for at least¬†24hrs, but the backlog at work and the need and want to update my website with content the second I got back over ran everything else. So even feeling like sh*t, the crazy life of Joshua Armstrong continued…

Oracle DBA by day…. Muscle God by night… (and sometimes really early¬†in the morning before being a DBA) haha!

Signing out… Josh!

2014-10-05T19:33:54+00:00 October 5th, 2014 7:33 pm|