Adventures at The Pink Palace Pt 2

Part 2

The next four days are a little blurred from my memory. I know we quickly befriended nine of the most amazing Aussies I’ve ever met and one crazy Irish chic.

The rest of that day included perfectly respectable vacation activities such as a “car safari” to visit castle ruins, pretty beaches and a kumquat distillery.

Yeah a kumquat distillery! I’d never even seen a kumquat and was amazed that people made rare crystallized liquor out of the little things.

That night we gathered at the Pink Palace Palladium for dinner and witnessed the obligatory reenactments of traditional dance and plate throwing. I imagine it was vaguely similar to being at a large family wedding and not knowing anyone there. You smile big and nod your head to the music hoping it will be over soon.

Then suddenly at 9:30 the tables were removed, the lights went out and the disco ball appeared, but not before the announcement that shots were only 1 euro each. Our Aussie friends dragged us to the front of the bar as though it was a stage and Michael Jackson was about to appear (obviously I mean when he was alive because an appearance now would make anyone piss themselves whether they were a fan or not).

The next thing I knew, there were 12 of us lined up at the bar each with shot glasses five rows deep. I couldn’t believe I was standing in front of a bar with 60 shots on it. It was beautiful in an I’m-about-to-experience-the-hangover-of-my-life-and-have-no-idea-yet kind of way. You know, one of life’s great milestones of monumental stupidity.

SO FUN!

The great thing about being young was that the hangover didn’t happen right away. My liver gave me a full 96 hours to consume as many gyros, beer and kamikazes as my heart could desire. I had no problem waking up to get on a boat and see the Ex jump off a 50ft cliff the next day. I guess that’s not saying much since I was really looking forward to seeing that.

I didn’t expect Koala Dave to motivate us with his bare ass, but that made a great souvenir photo. Funny how I never got his face.

The second night started much like the first except that the 200 of us that were staying at the Palace had already lost our introductory shyness from the vats of alcohol previously consumed. All of a sudden, an Aussie girl was topless. Then I’m topless. Then a guy came breezing past me in all the glory his United Kingdom flag boxers could possibly muster while screaming to the Summer of ’69. It was a sea of boobies and boxers.

EHhhhhPIC!

Yes, I'm Cher and I party with Bald Britney and the ghost of Marilyn

By the third night we were beyond drunk and dressed in pink togas. I made out with a lovely gal from Colorado. The Ex enjoyed it, which defeated the purpose of trying to prove I was over him and into girls. The crazy Irish chick was lap dancing one of the Aussie dudes. One of the staff members said he’d never seen anything like that before.

I’m so thankful Facebook wasn’t public back then.

In conclusion…(he,he, why do people only use that phrase in high school papers?), the Pink Palace should definitely be on your list of things to do providing you are not over the age of 28 – or 40 if you’re a skeevy dude looking to pick up chicks.

P.S.

And the hangover…yes it did come, during the fourth day while I was on the booze cruise. I swear it was a cruel joke from the ancient Greek Gods as revenge for peeing behind one of their statues.

I walked in slow-motion past the three-foot long funnels of beer that were being poured into everyone’s mouth as we rocked back and forth in the middle of the damn sea. I must have been a severe shade of green as I slipped across the salty deck and barely saved myself from falling over the side as I hung on for dear life to the restroom door. After we finished rolling over the waves and I could see enough through my crossed eyes, I made it safely to the porcelain throne and released my organs to freedom.

NOT FUN.