Steve had persuaded me enough so we set off in his boy racer like Fiesta. Steve had become accustomed to Malaga’s lifestyle more than me, as he had turned into a crazy, road raging driver just like the locals, because of this most of the time I focused on something that was inside the car so I couldn’t see what was happening outside.
We had arrived at Zygo’s and were allowed straight through the barriers and past the bouncers, as Steve was still a good friend of the manager. Zygo’s was certainly popular with the punters and there was always smoke and alcohol which was not admittedly my idea of a good night out.
I gazed around the packed dance area, the strobe lighting added to my developing headached. If there had been less space I don’t think I would have been able to breathe. The place was packed! Steve and I just managed to squeeze through the crowds to the bar. At one point I was nearly lost under the swarm of people, luckily Steve was lanky and blonde, and easy to spot.
“Do you want a drink?” Steve asked. “Yes please, I’ll have what ever you have,” I replied. Steve ordered two ‘Tequila Sunrises’. I downed them in a flash, and it went straight to my head.
My heart was thumping like a drum with all the clubbing music. My eyes started to water as the room filled up with smoke; if there had been any more I think I would have needed to pay a visit to the doctor! The night passed extremely slowly and it was about as much fun as watching Barcelona Vs. Fulham, sorry, I’m still English.
Steve was obviously having fun I saw him go up to the bar for a drink at least five times in the space of an hour. I found myself carried by the throng, closer towards the flashing lights, which were reminiscent of Blackpool illuminations, as dancers took up the large space in the centre. This was definitely a worse option, so I fought my way back towards the bar.
Steve bought me another couple drinks and I started to feel very light-headed. I became dizzy, the room started to spin. I could vaguely see Steve so I told him, “If you are going to buy me another drink I’ll only have a non-alcoholic beverage, O.K?” I did not hear a reply so I gazed around but I could not see where he had gone. Out of nowhere a crowd of people surrounded me. They were peering down at the floor. Before I could look down two bouncers barged through and knocked everyone out of the way, like skittles.
I could just make out through the drink, crowd and smole that there was someone sprawled out across the floor. I wanted to see more but it is very hard to view through the gaps of people especially when you’re intoxicated! A worrying thought came in to my head perhaps it was Steve. Perhaps he had collapsed from the excess of ‘Tequila Sunrisers’.
I could hear an ambulance siren over the thumping music, but only just. I was still trying to squeeze through people to see if it was Steve, but this was hopeless.
I saw the paramedics rush in with a stretcher, the bouncers making a path for them. They escorted the paramedics out; they were coming closer to me and had to pass me to leave. The face was a blur and I could not focus, but something told me it was Steve by his blonde hair. I lurched after the paramedics but they did not seem to want me to go with them and reassured me that he would be fine.
Now that Steve had left the nightclub, I finally had an excuse to depart. As I had no means of transport to reach Malaga’s hospital, I called a taxi. I waited and waited for the taxi but in Spain they don’t really care about time ‘manana’,
The taxi finally slouched up to the curb, so I got in and told him where to go. My Spanish was poor and even worse from the effects of the drink, as he had gone an even longer route, probably to get more money out of me.
We came to a halt, it was a traffic jam. That’s why I hated Friday nights in Spain. The only good thing about being in the cab was leaving the noise, smoke and strobe lights behind. I fell back into the soft black leather seat, and my body slumped into a relaxed posture. The grey haired elderly cab driver talked incessantly, but I was not listening. I was far too weary to even reply. It looked like it would be a long night ahead but at least I could rest my tired aching limbs even if this might be in a noisy casualty.
I finally arrived at the hospital. I asked at the admissions desk which ward Steve might be on. The elderly lady behind the desk replied, “He’s been admitted to ward B7 which is a medical unit” luckily for me the receptionist spoke good English.
Steve looked pale and weak and was obviously sleeping off the effects of the alcohol. A kind nurse came up to me and offered me a visitor’s bed, which I gratefully accepted.
As I said earlier this was undoubtedly the best nights sleep I have had in Spain, even though my best friend was in hospital and things did not quite turn out as I had expected.