The Magaluf Job (pt 2)

May is hardly high season for Magaluf, but by 2pm all the restaurants on the beach are full of people.

Some of them are even eating.

There are street vendors selling fake gold chains and captain hats.

An odd combination.

However I saw enough drunk captains, red necks festooned in chains, to concede it was a good grift.

Even though it seemed all good natured I could sense the possibility of shit hitting the fan.

If you live in the UK you get used to it. Move away for long enough and then return? You soon notice it, bubbling under the surface.

The Brits are not the only ones here but the vibe mostly comes from them. The other nationalities just seem to get smashed, fall asleep or fall over.

Mind you our hotel was full of German retirees armed to the teeth with golf clubs, so you never know.

I had one possible close call on the the last evening when I was finished with the work and was taking a stroll on the main drag around 8pm.

So still kind of early.

I saw 2 guys coming my way. I got that little warning twitch and sure enough the one with pinned eyes and arms spread wide, like he was giving a benediction, was shouting “ Hey, what’s going on!”

And yes, there were those bloody gold chains, swinging and glinting.

I passed Leary Jesus thinking “ignore him,” but could not resist.

“Great song!”

I looked back. He looked confused. Standing there like Christ in search of a cross.

“Wha…?”

And then… again “Hey! I said what’s going on!”

I decided I would not have a late one that evening, we had already worked late the night before and it had all gone really well. So why tempt fate.

The Night Before…

As I said  in Part 1, once things got rolling in the evening everything went really well. We found lots of great people, all too happy to chat.

After the tattoo guys and Anais we came across an Irish girl working outside a club, trying to draw punters in.

She was a delight and full of warmth for the community that exists in the town amongst fellow workers who are always looking out for each other.

It turned out her mum was from Limerick, just like my mum!

She had trained as a nurse?

Just like my…

… I realised this was getting weird; an old git telling a 24 year old they were just like his mum.

She did not seem to mind; such a kind disposition.

After this there was the young Danish guys, part of a visiting Handball team, one of them was sporting a badge that said ‘the only virgin left in Magaluf.’

Perhaps the most memorable encounter came towards the end of the evening when we were taking a break outside a club.

Sat quite close where a couple of girls, one of whom had the gift of the gab and the stamina to keep it up all night.

The guys sat next to them probably thought it was their lucky night only to soon discover they were just the audience for her show.

I casually said to Will, kind of as a cheeky joke “hey go chat to her.”

Before I even had a chance to blink he did.

After  a while I joined them and got to watch the star attraction do her stuff.

Jesse was amazing. Barely seeming to pause for breath, one theme just flowed into another and if you asked me what I remember the only thing that comes to mind is that she was a barber from Manchester and definitely not a hairdresser! What an insult!

Oh, and her fiancee owns a digger.

Jesse and her incredibly patient friend Saffron were both up for some photos and I got a nice series of shots.

Another interesting encounter at the same place was with a guy I saw earlier.

Unremarkable at first glance; just some guy leaving one of the clubs and hopping onto one of those big modern scooters.

The only reason he caught my eye was because I have been watching an Italian show about Rome gangs called ‘Suburra.’

The most dangerous character (Samurai) is an older guy who gets around on the same kind of bike.

I may have been closer to the mark than I thought .

He later returned and began asking us what we were doing.

He definitely fell into the ‘suspicious of journalists camp.’

He did not want to be interviewed nor have his photo taken, but he was amiable enough and I had a long chat with him.

Gabriel was his name and it turned out he owned all the clubs around us!

At one point he recommended another place further along, which seems like an odd business practice, until he said it was also belonged to ‘the family.’

He hung around when we were interviewing Jesse and Saffron but seemed convinced we were harmless.

At some point I ended up in another club of his trying to get photos of the crowd, looking back now I realise it was all a lot weirder than it seemed at the time.

All those hen and stag groups filling the place; a carnival of mad costumes and manic happiness, somehow poignant, perhaps with a dash of regret?

I remember something Jesse said.

“Pros of dating me? I’m funny.”

“The  cons? Its cuz I wasn’t loved as a child.”

Magaluf is for when you absolutely have to get happy, no matter what.

(In Part 3 we escape to an idyllic restaurant made famous in a TV series)