From getting on the plane on Friday morning to getting off it Sunday night when returning home that was a hell of a trip. As gutted as I was about the result, not even City not turning up will ruin the memories.
I didn’t consume half as much alcohol as I have on previous European away trips - the 10.30pm curfew played a part in that plus I wanted to stay reasonably sober on Saturday as I didn’t want to end up doing something stupid like losing my ticket or getting it nicked. That didn’t stop me going arse over tit when pissed up Friday night though down by the river. I’m struggling to recall exactly what happened but it was probably about an hour or so after the City v City off
@Didsbury Dave bag snatch incident. I ended up with some lovely grazes on my right elbow, a very sore right knee, and about 24 hours later the biggest purple bruise I’ve ever had appeared on my right side. What happened next I’m not sure but with the aid of Google Maps I tried to find my way back to the Vila Gale hotel. It should’ve been a 25-30 minute walk and it was inland but for some reason I ended up walking and walking along the river past the big bridge and all the way out of town. It was only when I was in the middle of nowhere that I started to sober up and realised I’d fucked up. There was a Burger van with a load of locals round it. Tried summoning an Uber but the payment kept failing and after a while I had to resort to asking someone at the snack bar to order me a taxi. No problem they said - it should be about 5 minutes. Well 5 minutes turned into something like 25 and still no sign of a taxi despite them repeatedly saying it was on its way. In the end I got pissed off and fucked it off as it felt like I was being had over so I fired up Google Maps again and headed back the way I’d came. This time I followed the right route but it was a hell of a trek and involved walking up the most daunting hill I’ve ever seen. How the fuck I made it up without rolling all the way back down again I’ll never know but when I finally got to the top it felt like I’d climbed Everest. From there it was a bit of a breeze and I ended up bowling into my hotel a bit after 1am.
Saturday was about as sober a European away match day as I’ve ever had. I had no hangover but the sore knee was doing my head in. Even so, still managed a fair few scoops and it was another good laugh down by the river and the post box. One City fan was repeatedly trolling Balague about him saying Messi was nailed on to come to us! After the match, I couldn’t be arsed watching Chelsea lift the cup so walked back into town. Luckily, my hotel was en route so I was back there just after 10.30. Normally I’d stay up - a lot of blues brought their take out beers to the lobby and stayed on the piss until the early hours - but my injuries were really kicking in then and I couldn’t summon up the energy. One bottle of Super Bock in my room and I flaked out. Spoke to my mates on the phone in their apartment and they fucked it off too.
On the plus side, that meant we were all refreshed Sunday morning and it was a great day on the other side of the river. Walked along the bridge and took the cable car down. Had a scran, a fair few pints, and did the 5 ports for 5 Euros.
All in all a top trip that could’ve gone pear shaped for me with my tumble and little venture out of town!
