Memiors – The Wrong Homecoming

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The Spanish island of Ibiza was a captivating place with great sunshine/beaches, amazing people/friends, many bars/clubs, and impassioned times for 8 weeks. Despite feeling haggard from many nights out, I did not want to leave and my experience to finish. However, there had to be a time when the time was up, and I had to use the plane ticket that I had bought. Luckily, through early morning discussions, I found out there was a little bar in the back streets of San Antonio: a little town on the edge of the island. This bar, I was told, was the place that sold flight tickets for those people that wanted some cash. I decided I was going to stay and sell my plane ticket. The next day, I made my way over to the bar up a nondescript side street. The barman was a man of about 50; he looked like a sixties dropout. He told me to leave my ticket and come back in a couple of days to see if someone wanted it.

I arrived back at the bar two days later, the same barman sat behind the bar looking as he did not have a care in the world. To my surprise, he told me the ticket was taken just before the final day; I was to meet the buyer at 7 pm the following evening at the bar. I was hoping everything would go well as I had not got any money yet for my ticket. The next day soon came around, and I was back at the bar. I looked around and spotted the buyer at the arranged meeting point. I introduced myself; his name was Steve and he was with his mates who were all in a Volkswagen campervan to take us to the airport. I was soon in the back of the scruffy-looking campervan having a laugh and a joke with Steve and his mates on the way to the airport.

The reason I had to go to the airport was to get Steve’s baggage through the check-in and show my passport to the check-in staff. The journey to the airport took about half an hour in the beat-up Volkswagen. I could not believe they had driven it from England. It felt like it only just made it to the airport. We parked up and made our way into the airport foyer. I approached the check-in desk alone and completed all the formalities. Everything went off without concern. I gave Steve the boarding pass and soon he was out of sight towards departures and off home. That was it, I was staying, starting off with a few drinks with Steve’s mates back in San Antonio.

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