A ‘teenage’ night out in Benidorm
A ‘teenage’ night out in Benidorm
I don’t understand why so many people turn their noses up at the mention of Benidorm. Although known for having its fair share of lager louts, Benidorm has something for everyone – from theme parks, to beautiful beaches, nightlife and even the odd tea dance here and there.
My teenage kids have been going to Benidorm most Saturday nights for the best part of a year. All the local English kids do, meeting up on the train and heading off for an all night party.
Although I have had nights out in Benidorm myself, I hadn’t actually toured the bars of the British quarter where all the teenage bars and discos are located. As I had a friend over recently from the UK with her two teenage boys, we decided to book a hotel for the night and see what it’s all about.
Starting out at 11pm, we head for the ‘strip’ where we hear it all happens. By 11.10 we’ve picked up a good few free ‘shots’ walking down, as all the bars have people outside offering them to entice you in. A bar offering ‘two for the price of one’ encourages us to drink yet another free shot and buy a Vodka tonic each to get another two free. In the UK shorts are precisely measured, but not here – each glass contains more than half vodka with barely room for the tonic on top. We also get treated to live entertainment by ‘Sticky Vicky’, who although I have seen before, sat through once again for the benefit of my friend who really shouldn’t miss this ‘treat’. For the few who haven’t heard of Sticky Vicky, she’s the crutch queen of Benidorm, appearing totally naked (in her 70’s) and pulling all manner of things from her nether regions.
More bars, more shots, more shorts and by 4am we have drunkenly danced ourselves to exhaustion. I didn’t know I still had it in me! Weaving back down through the British quarter, we see people passed out on the floor, puddles of vomit, fights and our kids (trying to hurry away before we catch up with them but not succeeding). At this point I am told, I went alone into a rave club, from where the kids had to rescue me from the dance floor where I thought I was ‘raving’ along with the other occupants. Of course it was more from embarrassment in case any of their mates were in there, than the need to save me from myself. At this point I had lost my friend, which is easily done in the crowds down there, and decided to make my way back to the hotel. Jumping on the back of a strange boys moped, apparently I demanded a lift back as my feet hurt. My daughter was trying to get me off and the poor Spanish boy was apologising for not being able to take me because his mate was waiting for a lift. I dread to think what he must he have thought – this ‘old bird’ jumping on his bike. Disembarking ungracefully, I left him in peace and went off to find my friend with whom I staggered back to the hotel, via a food van selling cardboard chips.
All in all, we had an excellent night out, but I now have reservations about my kids going there. The British square in Benidorm is a teenagers paradise but a parents worst nightmare. No one appeared to be looking out for those kids passed out in the street, making sure they don’t choke on their vomit. Where were their mates, who should have been helping them? I am told, although wasn’t around to see it, that every morning at 8pm they have to steam clean that strip to remove the blood, sick and broken glass.
As ‘sensible’ adults, we were enticed by free drinks, ‘two for the price of one’ offers on shorts, and the overall party atmosphere – so can fully understand how these kids get in the state they do. Our kids were fine that night, but whose to say it won’t be one of them next time?
My teenage kids have been going to Benidorm most Saturday nights for the best part of a year. All the local English kids do, meeting up on the train and heading off for an all night party.
Although I have had nights out in Benidorm myself, I hadn’t actually toured the bars of the British quarter where all the teenage bars and discos are located. As I had a friend over recently from the UK with her two teenage boys, we decided to book a hotel for the night and see what it’s all about.
Starting out at 11pm, we head for the ‘strip’ where we hear it all happens. By 11.10 we’ve picked up a good few free ‘shots’ walking down, as all the bars have people outside offering them to entice you in. A bar offering ‘two for the price of one’ encourages us to drink yet another free shot and buy a Vodka tonic each to get another two free. In the UK shorts are precisely measured, but not here – each glass contains more than half vodka with barely room for the tonic on top. We also get treated to live entertainment by ‘Sticky Vicky’, who although I have seen before, sat through once again for the benefit of my friend who really shouldn’t miss this ‘treat’. For the few who haven’t heard of Sticky Vicky, she’s the crutch queen of Benidorm, appearing totally naked (in her 70’s) and pulling all manner of things from her nether regions.
More bars, more shots, more shorts and by 4am we have drunkenly danced ourselves to exhaustion. I didn’t know I still had it in me! Weaving back down through the British quarter, we see people passed out on the floor, puddles of vomit, fights and our kids (trying to hurry away before we catch up with them but not succeeding). At this point I am told, I went alone into a rave club, from where the kids had to rescue me from the dance floor where I thought I was ‘raving’ along with the other occupants. Of course it was more from embarrassment in case any of their mates were in there, than the need to save me from myself. At this point I had lost my friend, which is easily done in the crowds down there, and decided to make my way back to the hotel. Jumping on the back of a strange boys moped, apparently I demanded a lift back as my feet hurt. My daughter was trying to get me off and the poor Spanish boy was apologising for not being able to take me because his mate was waiting for a lift. I dread to think what he must he have thought – this ‘old bird’ jumping on his bike. Disembarking ungracefully, I left him in peace and went off to find my friend with whom I staggered back to the hotel, via a food van selling cardboard chips.
All in all, we had an excellent night out, but I now have reservations about my kids going there. The British square in Benidorm is a teenagers paradise but a parents worst nightmare. No one appeared to be looking out for those kids passed out in the street, making sure they don’t choke on their vomit. Where were their mates, who should have been helping them? I am told, although wasn’t around to see it, that every morning at 8pm they have to steam clean that strip to remove the blood, sick and broken glass.
As ‘sensible’ adults, we were enticed by free drinks, ‘two for the price of one’ offers on shorts, and the overall party atmosphere – so can fully understand how these kids get in the state they do. Our kids were fine that night, but whose to say it won’t be one of them next time?
posted by Debbie at
9:51 am
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