The road trip from Nerja to Benidorm would take around 5 hours according to Tom Tom. Fran at the gym assured me it would take 4 hours. So, I set off at 9:30am, 30 minutes breaks should be there by 2-3pm. I would hate to see how fast Fran drives. I arrived at 3:45pm.
The trip is not too bad once you get past Motril and hit the motorway. Getting stuck behind camper vans and roadworks on the N340 probably added 30 mins to the journey time. Also the signs for "Services" do not give any indication as to whether it is on the motorway or 5 mins away from the junction. Really annoying especially when you find the cafe is shut.
I arrived at the apartments and first impressions were not bad. Nice pool. Seemed to be orientated for the family. Tried to book in with my poor Spanish only to realize that the receptionist was German. That would be my first and only attempt to speak the lingo. The official language of Benidorm is English (tinged with a scottish accent it seems).
Found the lads around the pool. They appeared to be relaxed, taking in the afternoon sun. On closer inspection they were all suffering from hangover. I announced that it was time for my first lager of the holiday, anyone else? The silence was deafening. Lager & 3 cokes it was.
The lads around the pool totalled 8. Where were the others? A few were still in bed. Bush (AKA Shane) informed me that another group had congregated around a hen party from Ireland on the other side of the pool. The group was lead by Wrongberg (AKA Paul Shaw). Apparently it was the girls last day and they were going at 5pm. The lads were after free booze which they managed to scavenge successfully. Bush managed to secure a carrier bag full of suncream. Well, at least it was practical.
The evening meal was a Chinese near to Churchill's, the pub was to be our base as it was in 2000 on my stag do. 11 of us went for the banquet. Veterans amongst the group jockeyed for position at the table. We were split up on two tables. Eyes glinting, mouths drooling, Mick & Bob took prime position at the end of table 1. I made a quick dash for table 2. Too quick, as I was positioned against the wall. But not to worry, there was only Rawdo to worry about on the table. The fatal mistake was made by Lenny (AKA Ste Parker). He was cornered on table one.
It proved to be a very nice banquet, everyone agreed. Except Lenny. He never got a look in. With each dish arriving at the table, Mick & Bob had taken the lion's share before the plate hit the table. The rest were quicker than Lenny. They had forks drawn ready to snap up the rest. Lenny was left with scraps and that's being generous.
Over to Churchill's and the place had not changed much over the years. Same pool table. Same entertainment. Same positions taken by the lads, next to the pool table. A few quick beers before we hit the town.
The first stop was the "Star & Garter". This was to be our official Karaoke bar. Not that many of us were going anywhere near the stage but it seemed that Baz & Wrongberg enjoyed a singsong. That would keep until tomorrow night though.
Off to Shamrocks, the official Irish bar. No resort would be complete without one. However, my idea of an Irish bar and Benidorm's seems to differ. The place was a freak show. The number of Stag do's, Hen Nights, Birthday party's and even Divorce Party's was frightening. All in fancy dress of some description. Name a superhero, cartoon character or any famous person (dead or alive) and chances are you will meet them here. I didn't make it inside on this occasion. That treat would be saved for tomorrow night.
The place that everyone ends up is "The Square". Its more of a pedestrian walkway full of bars and disco's. The two places that we would most frequent, Champions and Cafe Benidorm, are at the top end. Champions is the one with the Mechanical bull. For 4 Euros you to could be twissed around, embarrassed in front of everyone and concussed when you headed the bull whilst falling off. Still, it was fun to watch the ladies ride it. No guesses where we stood in that bar.
Cafe Benidorm became the official disco bar. Inside you got the usual freaks but it seemed to be toned down from the Shamrocks level. Or was it that we were all too drunk to notice anymore. Probably, as it was the only place were we all got up and danced the night away.
Gradually through the night the lads would slip off home. Craig, who I was sharing with, always seemed to disappear in the first group. A fatal mistake that he never learned from. Waking Craig up on my return home became a ritual. Well, I didn't want him to worry all night did I?
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