The definition of hard work I believe was fairly well articulated the morning after the rainbow domination of Cancun Beach. Forced to be on the waiting buses by 7:30am the next morning, there were about 4,000 reasons to quit drinking forever - and any who denied the fact were still drunk and began their hangover in the early stages of the conference during the same day. I survived by curling into the foetal position across to seats. Others weren't so lucky - for most of the journey, the smell of fresh vomit wafted past me and held me just barely to my own vomit-free sanity for the 45-minute journey.
They fed us well before the conference - we walked into a huge convention hall, the scene of the forthcoming gala dinner, and there were mariachi bands, piles of breakfast burritos (I shuddered at the meat option while others gorged themselves on it... just too early) and a donkey called Pancho wearing a sombrero. I felt sorry for that donkey and refused to get a photo with him. Although now it would much better illustrate the total humiliation the situation created.
The conference was entertaining, much more so than I expected, and was quite a quick wake-up call. Once in, we rushed to our assigned areas per group, jumped up on our chairs and started dancing to the soundtrack that would become a staple diet (alongside alcohol and burritos) for the entire weekend. I found myself even singing to the words - nay, LONGING for them - for songs that I'd never before moved a hip to. But now, in a room of overtired, hungover yet totally excited people, it was impossible not to wave that little SF flag as high over my head as possible until it broke.
One of the funniest moments in the conference had to be the poor girl that fell asleep - and there were a few - who got singled out and brought up on stage to sit in humiliation. The fact she was in deep sleep sitting up only 6 seats away from the CEO didn't make her case any weaker. I wonder if she still works in the travel industry. Maybe she tests mattresses.
The conference was really a big "go-and-get-em" for the company, with regular sponsor bits thrown in. And blatantly. Hey, we're not stupid, we know this multi-million dollar event doesn't have its fair share of support. I guess it was smart to create a Mexican soap series take-off as the way to give sponsors their 5 mins of airtime. Hard to explain but it worked... in a way.
The guest speaker was another source of speculation for the crowd (this company loves a good build-up) and when it was revealed to be USA Olympian Michael Phelps, there was a pleasing reaction from the crowd. Considering many in said crowd were female, I can only guess why. He was good, although with no basis of comparison, I guess I can't judged too harshly. He appeared with his trainer and was interviewed in a Q&A style with an MC, something unusual I think for this conference. Rumour has it he was a last-minute ring-in so no wonder he didn't have a speech prepared. He'd obviously been briefed though, and it was good to hear from the horse's mouth how one becomes so friggin successful. It is hard when people ask you what you secret is, like there's just one sentence to make it all make sense.
There was some dancing and poi/staff twirling from a local act which I found mesmerising (of course). Then the conference was over. Oh wait, we found out next year's location: Macau. Pretty exotic I thought, although I have realised that you could probably hold a Global in a convention centre in the middle of the desert and, as long as you have the right trimmings, everyone would still have a ball. But the thrill of desire does drive people to earn it.
We piled back onto the buses and, with the help of venue staff acting as temporary traffics wardens to get the dozen or so vehicles back onto the main road, headed back to the hotels. I thought we had another session in the hotel but thankfully the timetable was wrong and I could just SIESTA for a couple of hours. Oh, sweet siesta. I had hit a wall.
Then it was party time. I put on my party frock, black with gold as instructed, and packed my bag with things I thought I'd need for the night out (not really thinking at that point that we'd no doubt go back to the hotel to regroup before heading out anywhere else - a fatal error, I was to find out later). Eyelashes barely holding on the humidity, I strutted out in my sparkly black heels and headed into the niche meeting room to see my little black n gold buddies.
Everyone looked divine, as expected, and excitement was high. After some pre-drinks and the obligatory photo sessions, we piled back onto the buses and filed back to the cold, dank convention centre - only this time it was really heaving. To the left, the overprepared UK section waving a huge blue, red and white flag and backed by their own marching band, to the right a long bar with scantily clad Mexican dancers, to all sides people talking, dancing, screaming, jumping, looking for friends - it was a hive of energy.
Then the doors opened to the main room and we made a mad dash to claim a set of tables together so we could remain together for the rest of the evening. My form of mad dash in said shoes was little more than a confident stride (think Beyonce in Sweet Dreams filmclip). No one wants the night to start with a twisted ankle.
We got a good possie not far from the stage and I ended up with a mish-mash of people, as I'd come to Global as an individual and had not other peeps from my store to sit with. All good, I was just happy to be there! The awards were hosted by some good-looking American chap and featured some pretty awesome tribal-esque dancing mid-way, I think it was a point to the Incan side of Mexican history of some kind. But also a chance for people with fit bodies to wear little clothing, which I also appreciated.
The awards went through and it was amazing to see the achievements of some people - just when I was happy with my year-end result! Whoa. A definite highlight was when my area stormed the stage to collect "our award", only to find another area had been awarded it... from what I've heard since, it was some kind of rule glitch that we hadn't been previously informed about. Although I'd yet to hear the final word... Regardless, dancing on that stage was pretty phenomenal. Maybe we'll legitimately make it next year and give South Africa back their plaque. Probably not.
Then the last surprise of the night... and who will it be?? Collectively we rushed to the band area where it was revealed... Pitbull! Pitbull? Alrighty then, let's make the most of this. So we danced. And danced. And danced. I grabbed a hot gay guy to be all stupid with, actually I even found a hot Mexican guy somewhere along the way but ran away as soon as he started groping me, wondering later how the hell he managed to get into a closed event (something I should have entertained a little stronger at the time).
The bathroom called and so I headed out to have a quick break, only to find the tables cleared up and my bag nowhere to be seen. No matter, I'm sure it's been handed in. No, no bag here... Another girl, a bit more distressed than me, was also looking. She was heading to Cuba the next day so was a little more desperate for her things. I was just sure they'd turn up somewhere.
I asked around as much as I could, no luck. So I headed onto the bus as it started to rain and everyone was getting cranky to get a seat, and had some fun in the back with some random guys - laughing fun, I know that sounds more dodgy than intended. The other girl sat sullenly staring out the window. "We'll find the bags, don't stress," I told her naively.
I never saw my bag, my phone, my cute little vintage clutch or my makeshift wallet again. I blame Pitfull.
They fed us well before the conference - we walked into a huge convention hall, the scene of the forthcoming gala dinner, and there were mariachi bands, piles of breakfast burritos (I shuddered at the meat option while others gorged themselves on it... just too early) and a donkey called Pancho wearing a sombrero. I felt sorry for that donkey and refused to get a photo with him. Although now it would much better illustrate the total humiliation the situation created.
The conference was entertaining, much more so than I expected, and was quite a quick wake-up call. Once in, we rushed to our assigned areas per group, jumped up on our chairs and started dancing to the soundtrack that would become a staple diet (alongside alcohol and burritos) for the entire weekend. I found myself even singing to the words - nay, LONGING for them - for songs that I'd never before moved a hip to. But now, in a room of overtired, hungover yet totally excited people, it was impossible not to wave that little SF flag as high over my head as possible until it broke.
One of the funniest moments in the conference had to be the poor girl that fell asleep - and there were a few - who got singled out and brought up on stage to sit in humiliation. The fact she was in deep sleep sitting up only 6 seats away from the CEO didn't make her case any weaker. I wonder if she still works in the travel industry. Maybe she tests mattresses.
The conference was really a big "go-and-get-em" for the company, with regular sponsor bits thrown in. And blatantly. Hey, we're not stupid, we know this multi-million dollar event doesn't have its fair share of support. I guess it was smart to create a Mexican soap series take-off as the way to give sponsors their 5 mins of airtime. Hard to explain but it worked... in a way.
The guest speaker was another source of speculation for the crowd (this company loves a good build-up) and when it was revealed to be USA Olympian Michael Phelps, there was a pleasing reaction from the crowd. Considering many in said crowd were female, I can only guess why. He was good, although with no basis of comparison, I guess I can't judged too harshly. He appeared with his trainer and was interviewed in a Q&A style with an MC, something unusual I think for this conference. Rumour has it he was a last-minute ring-in so no wonder he didn't have a speech prepared. He'd obviously been briefed though, and it was good to hear from the horse's mouth how one becomes so friggin successful. It is hard when people ask you what you secret is, like there's just one sentence to make it all make sense.
There was some dancing and poi/staff twirling from a local act which I found mesmerising (of course). Then the conference was over. Oh wait, we found out next year's location: Macau. Pretty exotic I thought, although I have realised that you could probably hold a Global in a convention centre in the middle of the desert and, as long as you have the right trimmings, everyone would still have a ball. But the thrill of desire does drive people to earn it.
We piled back onto the buses and, with the help of venue staff acting as temporary traffics wardens to get the dozen or so vehicles back onto the main road, headed back to the hotels. I thought we had another session in the hotel but thankfully the timetable was wrong and I could just SIESTA for a couple of hours. Oh, sweet siesta. I had hit a wall.
Then it was party time. I put on my party frock, black with gold as instructed, and packed my bag with things I thought I'd need for the night out (not really thinking at that point that we'd no doubt go back to the hotel to regroup before heading out anywhere else - a fatal error, I was to find out later). Eyelashes barely holding on the humidity, I strutted out in my sparkly black heels and headed into the niche meeting room to see my little black n gold buddies.
Everyone looked divine, as expected, and excitement was high. After some pre-drinks and the obligatory photo sessions, we piled back onto the buses and filed back to the cold, dank convention centre - only this time it was really heaving. To the left, the overprepared UK section waving a huge blue, red and white flag and backed by their own marching band, to the right a long bar with scantily clad Mexican dancers, to all sides people talking, dancing, screaming, jumping, looking for friends - it was a hive of energy.
Then the doors opened to the main room and we made a mad dash to claim a set of tables together so we could remain together for the rest of the evening. My form of mad dash in said shoes was little more than a confident stride (think Beyonce in Sweet Dreams filmclip). No one wants the night to start with a twisted ankle.
We got a good possie not far from the stage and I ended up with a mish-mash of people, as I'd come to Global as an individual and had not other peeps from my store to sit with. All good, I was just happy to be there! The awards were hosted by some good-looking American chap and featured some pretty awesome tribal-esque dancing mid-way, I think it was a point to the Incan side of Mexican history of some kind. But also a chance for people with fit bodies to wear little clothing, which I also appreciated.
The awards went through and it was amazing to see the achievements of some people - just when I was happy with my year-end result! Whoa. A definite highlight was when my area stormed the stage to collect "our award", only to find another area had been awarded it... from what I've heard since, it was some kind of rule glitch that we hadn't been previously informed about. Although I'd yet to hear the final word... Regardless, dancing on that stage was pretty phenomenal. Maybe we'll legitimately make it next year and give South Africa back their plaque. Probably not.
Then the last surprise of the night... and who will it be?? Collectively we rushed to the band area where it was revealed... Pitbull! Pitbull? Alrighty then, let's make the most of this. So we danced. And danced. And danced. I grabbed a hot gay guy to be all stupid with, actually I even found a hot Mexican guy somewhere along the way but ran away as soon as he started groping me, wondering later how the hell he managed to get into a closed event (something I should have entertained a little stronger at the time).
The bathroom called and so I headed out to have a quick break, only to find the tables cleared up and my bag nowhere to be seen. No matter, I'm sure it's been handed in. No, no bag here... Another girl, a bit more distressed than me, was also looking. She was heading to Cuba the next day so was a little more desperate for her things. I was just sure they'd turn up somewhere.
I asked around as much as I could, no luck. So I headed onto the bus as it started to rain and everyone was getting cranky to get a seat, and had some fun in the back with some random guys - laughing fun, I know that sounds more dodgy than intended. The other girl sat sullenly staring out the window. "We'll find the bags, don't stress," I told her naively.
I never saw my bag, my phone, my cute little vintage clutch or my makeshift wallet again. I blame Pitfull.
