It’s our second day in Ibiza and I wake up with a banging headache and a mouth so dry it's cemented shut. We have half a bottle of water left and my hangover is screaming for rehydration. Ideally, I’d not move my sore body right now, but we have to get up because my work booked an excursion for us that I’m supposed to be filming. I wake up Looney, whose state is no better than mine and shortly after Moaney comes too. The three of us miserably waddle into the car. I barely feel capable of driving 40 minutes to Sant Antoni. With the traffic, parking, and the fact that my brain is working 25% slower than usual, we get there super late. The woman who works there tells us, in the nicest way possible, that we fucked it and probably lost the money, but she’ll try to find a slot early tomorrow morning. Great, no footage for work, I’m on about 3 hours of sleep and no matter how many bottles of water I squeeze down my throat, I can not rehydrate my body. Looney suggests we go to a beautiful beach nearby to relax and recover. I’m imagining a dip into the cold sea and letting the sound of the waves lull me into a peaceful sleep. But I do not have the mental capacity to drive, so we fetch a taxi. After a 10 minute ride, the guy tells us we’ve arrived and we slowly crawl out of the car.
It is 1pm, the sun is scorching the top of my head. I am standing on the edge of a huge cliff with no way to reach the water other than a 20 minute climb down a dodgy path. There is also no beach, just rocks and practically no shade. We’re at the wrong place. I turn around to get back into the car, but the taxi is gone. We are stranded in the middle of nowhere with no water and no way to get out of here, because Uber does not exist in Ibiza. There is a cab company that you have to call and hope that they send someone to find you. I can feel my body weaken with every droplet of sweat that runs down my back, the headache is getting worse and we genuinely have no idea how to get back to civilization. The thought of waiting out in the beating heat for hours hoping a taxi comes by, is too much. The exhaustion overcomes me and I crumble to the ground and cry, for exactly 30 seconds. Whilst my mental breakdown is short lived, it’s not something I usually do. So Looney knows: Shit’s bad. Determined to save our asses, she stands up and announces she will find us a way out of here. For the next 10 minutes, I’m living the Spongebob movie, defenselessly lying like a starfish under the bright light that is robbing me of every last drop of moisture in my body. Suddenly a voice: ”Come on girls! Hurry before they leave!”
As I follow this angel, I am promising to never sin again and thanking whatever supernatural powers out there blessed us with this miracle salvation.
Looney somehow found a Norwegian family parked up nearby. I remind you: we are in the middle of nowhere. This family does not speak a word of English, but Looney is Swedish, so she knows a bit of Norwegian and managed to communicate our desperation. They agreed to let us hitchhike to a road where we could find a taxi. Moaney and I get there and try to thank them, but they just smile and nod at us. They open the trunk, we load our bags into it and assume it is time to get into the car. Oh sweet, cold air-conditioning, come to Mama. We grab for the door handle. What we don’t see behind the blacked out windows is their 2 year old son, leaning against the inside of the door. The door that is now opening. It only takes a second, but we all watch it happen in slow-motion. The child falls, head first, onto the asphalt and splits his head open. A high pitched scream, blood gushing from the wound. We are frozen with our mouths wide open. All I hear is a voice in my head saying “No way, this just happened” over and over again, and I can’t move my body. As the child is hyperventilating and his wound violently bleeding, his parents are trying to comfort him. We don’t know what to say. I have never been actually speechless, but my body refuses to make any sound. We just scarred this child. The child of the people that were helping us. Looney tries to apologize in Norwegian, but it feels like there is nothing we can say that would improve the situation. So we stand there, awkwardly watching, praying that the kid will be okay, until they managed to calm him. Somehow they still let us go with them for the most uncomfortable 10 minute drive of my life. We get to a road and find a taxi that brings us back to our car.
Oh yeah, I still have to drive 40 minutes after this nightmare. We sit down, traumatized, but assuming the worst was over. Wrong. At this point, I have had my driving license for a solid 2 weeks. I’m a good driver, but I’m also a new driver and an exhausted driver. We set off, we don’t have the energy to speak, expressions blank, trying to process. 25 minutes go by. We’re on Ibiza roads that are winding up and down hills, speeding along at 60 kilometres per hour. A tighter bend approaches, so I tap the brakes. Barely anything happens. I try again, applying more pressure to the pedal. The car barely slows. I swallow hard. We speed through the bend and are now on a longer stretch of empty road. So I slam the brakes. The car mildly slows. I turn my head to the others. “Chey...?”. “The breaks aren’t working.” “What do you mean the breaks aren’t working?!” “The car is not stopping or slowing.”
I try not to panic and to figure out what’s going on. I look around. The hand brake is pulled up. I forgot to undo the hand-brake and have been driving like this for 25 minutes, completely wearing down the brake pads. The realization comes too late, the breaks are done, and we are speeding on country roads with traffic coming towards us. In that moment, I kid you not, a doppel-decker tourist bus swerves into our lane wanting to overtake another car. This literally feels like a scene from Final Destination. I can’t slow down. The three of us scream as his huge vehicle is coming straight towards us. I’m trying to figure out which ditch I could drive us into to avoid collision. But in the last second, the driver realizes he wasn’t gonna make the manoeuver and retracts back into his spot. Now shaking, I put the car into first gear to slow it down and continue the last 10 minutes. I pray to those same assholes in the universe that teased me with the Norwegian family, just to kill my hopes with a bloodbath, that I would get us back safely. We make it, I park up and let the wall finally stop this car.
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