Ole for the three amigos

And after weeks of planning, what could possibly go wrong?

Well, although our flight left on time, we were no sooner up in the air when one of the passengers became ill. So ill, in fact, that the poor soul spent the entire journey stretched out on the floor at the rear of the aircraft with an oxygen mask on.

This meant we couldn’t get access to the rear end of the plane for the toilets, which, although it obviously wasn’t the poor guys fault, wasn’t great.  

Next, a girl in the seat in front me pressed the buzzer for a sick bag.

“Oh no,” I thought, “I can’t deal with people being sick.”

Five minutes later, a girl from a hen party who looked somewhat pale, rushed down the aisle attempting to go to the toilet.

“Sorry, you can’t go down there,” insisted the stewardess.

“But I’m going to be sick ...”

So another call went out for a sick bag.

Next, a female somewhere behind me shouted.

“Quick, my pal needs a sick bag”.

Sick bag! Sick bag!! Sick bag!!!

Now I don’t know about you, but word association is enough for me.  Why don’t they call it a bloody medical bag or something other than a sick bag, because the mere mention of the word is enough to make me queasy?  

Somehow I held on to the contents of my stomach and arriving safely, we were desperate to soak up the sunshine. But never having had a bikini on for some time, Christine and I were reluctant to expose ourselves on the beach.

“We’ll  play it low key and just slink quietly on to a sun bed,” I suggested. “No one will even notice we’re there.” 

But, every bed on the small private beach was taken so we had no choice but to saunter along the beach in front of the sunbathers.

Suddenly, a couple of suntanned guys in shorts started shouting at us in Spanish and shooing us away like unwanted pigeons, which started to draw the attention of the other sunbathers.

“Hola,” they roared. “Film. Film.”  

To this day, we have no idea how we managed to wander on to the set of a movie whilst the crew were filming.   

“I’m mortified,” laughed Christine nervously. “So much for acting low key. We just walked on to a film set and were nearly in a movie!”

“Everyone’s staring at us,” said Raymond ushering us towards a nearby beach bar.

 “Let’s hide in here for a wee while and have a beer.”

Pondering over the beach bar menu, Raymond attempted to order our food in broken Spanish.

“Hola. Three small beers and three cheese and ham toasties, Por Favor” he said to the waitress.

 “No se sienta. No se sienta,”  the girl said, flapping her arms.

 “No sit there. This is part of the film set.”

Humiliated, the three Amigos cowered under our sunhats as we made our way from the pretend beach bar with everyone pointing and snorting at our idiotic actions.

It was two days before we plucked up the courage to venture back to the same beach.

Slathering on the sun cream I laughed.

“Well, we’re finally here, so let’s just relax and enjoy the peace and quiet.”

Knowing I had a painful neck condition Raymond suggested I book the beach masseur who was gently and quietly massaging a young blonde sitting upright on a towel in front of us, and I thought. “That’s just what I need.”

Somehow my massage didn’t turn out to be quite so relaxing.  

Pedro, the masseur, laid me face down on the sun bed and quickly unfastened my bikini top.  

“He didn’t do that to the Blonde,” I thought.  But I said nothing as I didn’t want to cause a commotion.

The two Amigos had now perked up somewhat and were nudging each other and giggling.

All was going well for the first few moments and I could feel the tension in my neck starting to ease until Pedro ordered me to sit up on the edge of the sun bed.

Now this wasn’t easy as I attempted to suck in my stomach and keep my unfastened bikini top in place.  

Next minute Pedro started slapping my shoulders. And I mean slapping. The slaps were so loud that sunbathers put down their books and tilted their sunglasses to get a better look.

Any tension that had gone was now back with a vengeance as the sunbathers focused on the unflattering floor show.

Pedro poured on more oil and next minute started karate chopping my shoulders.

Ohhhhh.... Argh.... I couldn’t help myself as each chop was blinkin’ painful.  

The slapping and chopping sounds echoed around the quiet beach and before long it seemed like every sunbather was sitting upright like a Meerkat staring at me.

Pedro paid no head and continued with the torture.

Meanwhile the two Amigos were in hysterics and now had their mobile phones out taking pictures, which only fuelled my tension further.

This continued for fifteen very long and embarrassing minutes until Pedro finished and I lay down like a rag doll underneath my beach towel until all had gone quiet.

“That’s the best laugh I’ve had in ages,” chuckled my loyal travel buddies.

I did mention it was supposed to be a walking and cycling holiday?

Well, we did walk a lot, but mainly around shops and bars.

And cycling? Well. It was far too hot for cycling so luckily I managed to find us some Segway (electronic) bikes, which were much easier in the draining heat.

And  the good news is, we’re planning  to do it all again in September!