Firstly, major apologies for the tardiness in this blogging situation... As many of you know, I was robbed on the Saturday night of the Global function and that kinda put a halt on my interaction with the worldwide web. A welcome change, yes, but a little annoying that I now have to backtrack almost 3 weeks worth of brilliant memory.
Let's start with where I left off... About to head to the famed Global Friday night party. While not officially Global as not the awards dinner etc, it is for many the big event looked forward to and after last year's surprise guest was revealed to be Fatboy Slim, there was just a bit of anticipation about what this year would bring.
We put our matching rainbow ponchos on and headed to the hotel lobby bar to gather and enter en force to the large pool area to host the party. The place was buzzing. Another over-priced drink later and we were on our way. Watch out, SF is coming. Off to the next door hotel and we were greeted with hundreds of people, even thousands, already milling about and, standing at the top of the stairs, looking down to a sea of rainbow, smiling waiters with trays of free drinks in hand and a thumping beat from the DJ booth to the right. Oh, and that clear blue sea to the left. Still clear. And still blue.
Absorbing like sponges into the atmosphere, the SF crew almost toppled the waiters in their rush for free drinks and I, with K and S, headed for a free photo in the Etihad photo area. Funny times. I think I ate K's boob a bit.
So the party raged on. I found myself in the pool with half swimmers/half underwear on, with my SF peeps A and P, in the earlier hours of the party before the pool turned its putrid murky colour. I think we started something. Oh, who am I kidding, the others just needed some liquid courage.
I ran into people I knew from other brands, not everyone I'd hoped but some people I didn't expect so it was a mixed bag of glee. The hour neared for the special guest and we barged our way to the front to hear... bam bam bam....... who is it? My CEO came up, poncho-clad also, to announce the DJ but dramatically allowed the artist's music/face to do the talking. Except that I had no idea who he was and didn't recognise the music. After asking someone who looked gay and into the whole dance music scene (blatant stereotypical judgement that paid off), I was told it was Roger Sanchez. Cool. Cooler in the early noughties, when he actually had some big hits, but still not too bad.
The night reached fever pitch when I found myself having various drink fights with my colleagues - nay, fellow party animals - and was absolutely soaked with alcohol, pool water and sweat. A party cocktail to end all cocktails.
Then it was 1am and it was over.
I met a couple of the girls from work and arranged to meet them downstairs for more partying elsewhere in Cancun. Got dressed and primed to head out and waited in the foyer. And waited. And waited. Entertained myself with some funny Irish guys, but didn't go partying with them as I had to wait for my mates. And wait I did. Until I grew tired and just went to bed. Such is the life of a party animal.
Let's start with where I left off... About to head to the famed Global Friday night party. While not officially Global as not the awards dinner etc, it is for many the big event looked forward to and after last year's surprise guest was revealed to be Fatboy Slim, there was just a bit of anticipation about what this year would bring.
We put our matching rainbow ponchos on and headed to the hotel lobby bar to gather and enter en force to the large pool area to host the party. The place was buzzing. Another over-priced drink later and we were on our way. Watch out, SF is coming. Off to the next door hotel and we were greeted with hundreds of people, even thousands, already milling about and, standing at the top of the stairs, looking down to a sea of rainbow, smiling waiters with trays of free drinks in hand and a thumping beat from the DJ booth to the right. Oh, and that clear blue sea to the left. Still clear. And still blue.
Absorbing like sponges into the atmosphere, the SF crew almost toppled the waiters in their rush for free drinks and I, with K and S, headed for a free photo in the Etihad photo area. Funny times. I think I ate K's boob a bit.
So the party raged on. I found myself in the pool with half swimmers/half underwear on, with my SF peeps A and P, in the earlier hours of the party before the pool turned its putrid murky colour. I think we started something. Oh, who am I kidding, the others just needed some liquid courage.
I ran into people I knew from other brands, not everyone I'd hoped but some people I didn't expect so it was a mixed bag of glee. The hour neared for the special guest and we barged our way to the front to hear... bam bam bam....... who is it? My CEO came up, poncho-clad also, to announce the DJ but dramatically allowed the artist's music/face to do the talking. Except that I had no idea who he was and didn't recognise the music. After asking someone who looked gay and into the whole dance music scene (blatant stereotypical judgement that paid off), I was told it was Roger Sanchez. Cool. Cooler in the early noughties, when he actually had some big hits, but still not too bad.
The night reached fever pitch when I found myself having various drink fights with my colleagues - nay, fellow party animals - and was absolutely soaked with alcohol, pool water and sweat. A party cocktail to end all cocktails.
Then it was 1am and it was over.
I met a couple of the girls from work and arranged to meet them downstairs for more partying elsewhere in Cancun. Got dressed and primed to head out and waited in the foyer. And waited. And waited. Entertained myself with some funny Irish guys, but didn't go partying with them as I had to wait for my mates. And wait I did. Until I grew tired and just went to bed. Such is the life of a party animal.
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