Now, I had never been to Benalmadena before, preferring city break type trips. I like wandering around museums and art galleries and going for a nice glass of wine in a decent restaurant. Oh dear.
My first hint that this was going to be a weekend of carnage was discussing the hen do with my friend (lets call her Sally). Sally HAS been to Benalmadena before, and told me all about the Geordie welder she had pulled in some dirty English all night bar. Lovely. I explained to her that I would be getting up to no such hi jinks, and she just laughed at me. Hmmmm.
Sally is everything I am not when it comes to going on holiday - she likes lying in the sun all day, and big fruity drinks with umbrellas, and Geordie welders. If she had a brilliant time over there, chances are, I won't. BUT, I put on a brave face and, determined to enjoy myself, I told myself to go with the flow.And flow I did.
We started off with the inevitable drinking games, downing shots of honey rum after quizzing the bride about her future husband (the bride by the way, is cousin to one of my best friends. Lets call her Sharon). Sharon was already legless fairly early on in the day, so the night deteriorated rapidly.
Much of it is a blur for me. When I woke the next morning, my eyes stinging from the endless smoke, my mouth feeling like something had died in it, and my feet throbbing, I turned to my best friend (we'll call her Kelly), and asked her what the hell I got up to.
"What didn't you get up to!" She laughed at me.
"What do you mean?" I asked, slightly concerned. The last thing I remember was going into a bar called Linekar's (later, I was informed that Linekar's is the bar of choice all over Europe for the rowdiest of rowdy stag and hen do's).
"Well, where to start. First, you downed a pint just of vodka red bull cocktail through a yard long straw..."
Ok, so that explains the banging headache.
"Then, you demanded a microphone from the DJ, and sang along to Waterloo..."
Oh dear god. I always did love a bit of karaoke - in the privacy of my own home. What was I thinking?
"And then at the end of the night, I had to drag you off some poor lad that you were snogging in a dark corner."
Oh no. "Don't tell me...was he from Newcastle?"
"Nah. He was a Brummie welder!"
Sally was so proud.
