So, this tale starts ever so innocently with 6 friends sat in a back garden in matching t-shirts getting a little too excited about their closely approaching holiday.
Sadly, shortly after we left the house for some quality alcohol time before we got to the airport, the story didn't quite carry through the innocent theme. After arriving at the airport and playing Mum (top passport-holder-and-loud-friend-controller award goes to me), getting cheekily frisked and having a few of our bags searched, which is always nerve-wrecking with friends like mine, we finally got through passport control.
|Anyone spot the drunken one?|
The highlight of the week was easily the UV paint party, which was something ridiculous like 400 litres of paint and 1500 people. Personally, I've never had UV paint shot at me at high speed out of cannon before, but it was one of those epiphany-provoking moments that you really value your life as you feel like you've been shit on by a UV hippo.
Me being me, and my friends being my friends; I did have a few near death experiences along the way. Before we set off for Zante, I had a meagre two rules from Mamma Hope:
1) No swimming in the sea at night
2) No quad bikes.
I then went out to break each one of the rules and endanger life just slightly, but heyyyyy it's all part of the fun.
NUMBER ONE: After one too many 50 cent tequila shots, me and Jaymie decided that it would be a more than delicious idea to see if we could swim to the next Greek island. Yes.... the next island. We went in fully clothed (shoes included) and we must've swam for about an hour and a half, no exaggeration. When we finally half sobered up and realised it'd take us a good day to swim there, we tried to swim back..
...to find the tide was going out. We swam for half an hour against the current, and got no where. At all.
But finally managed to get back to shore, walk back home absolutely dripping wet and then throw up all over Jodie's balcony. Waking up the next morning with 'LETTUCE LICKER' henna tattoed on my thigh wasn't so fun in that moment of uncertainty of whether it was, in fact a real tattoo.
Suffice to say, the people at the quad shop just picked it up, laughed and let me get back on it.
(to be continued)