Viva Brighton Issue #30 August 2015

flash fact..........................................HolidayBy Andy PlayerI’ve only been to Ibiza once. I was twelve yearsold and spent a couple of hours in the airportwith my mum and my sister.We’d woken up in Mallorca, the final morningof what had been a fabulous holiday of snorkelling,water-skiing and messing around with newfriends I’d never see again.With suitcases packed, me and my dad went tofind a taxi. Usually a mild-mannered man, mydad always got nervous and tetchy on the wayhome from a holiday. And that meant we’d headoff to the airport ridiculously early.In those days the taxi was probably an oldbanger, double my age with dodgy suspensionand squeaky brakes. Nevertheless, the tripthrough coastal resorts and the city was one lastchance to soak up the Mediterranean sights,sounds and smells.Already a simmering pressure cooker of emotions,my dad exploded at the check-in desk. Therest of the airport must have heard him. Theproblem was that our plane was over-bookedand we’d have to wait nearly twelve hours for anight flight.After an embarrassingly long and loud exchange,a compromise was reached. My dad was offereda seat on the original flight and the rest of us -me, my sister and my mum - would fly to Ibizaand then to the UK via Barcelona.Pretty much everyone in the terminal was followingwhat was going on and when my dad returnedto where we were sitting, we became partof the drama too. Whether our fellow travellersfelt pity for us or not, I don’t know. But once mydad had left, the airline staff couldn’t do enoughto make our journey luxurious.First we ate a memorable meal, on the house, inthe posh airport restaurant. My mum had Chateaubriand.Arriving in Ibiza, we were whiskedthrough to the air-conditioned first-class lounge.And our scheduled flight back to London wascertainly a cut above the usual tourist fare.We’d really enjoyed our adventure and as weapproached home in our taxi, we felt pamperedand relaxed.Of course, when we walked through the door,we didn’t let on what an excellent day we’d had.It was important to my dad that we’d all had amiserable time. He always enjoyed a good moanto round off a holiday, so that year truly hit thespot.This is the last in the series of readers’ short storiesfor the time being. Big thanks to Barbara andImogen of Black Mustard for organising it.Illustration by Lucy Williams....59....