A wild night out starts when you are ready to party and a fifty year old security guard at a private resort denies you access to land through her pier.
Our sailing boat had such a small zodiac that it could only take two people at a time. It also had a power issue so taking it all the way around the cape to Porto Cervo’s Harbour was a bit risky, not to mention embarrassing. So the most sensible option was to get off at the residence desk in front of us, cross its garden and take two taxis to town. After all, we were only 2 km away.
Our problems began when the security guard (a fifty some year old Italian woman with the worst temper ever) decided that we were not using her deck. We had spent the last two hours taking turns to shower on the small vessel. We were happy to be there and excited about a night in town. By the time we were all ready to cross the private property, there were two residents still swimming in the private beach, who tried to give us permission to accomplish our plans by saying that they did not mind at all our trespassing. This upset the lady even more. She shouted a few things in Italian and lifted the bridge in front of our disappointed faces. Vaness, the only one in the group who spoke Italian, tried to convince the lady to let us in but nothing seemed to melt that woman’s determined heart.
The sun was setting and by the time the six of us were standing on the now isolated floating pier, the evening did not look very promising…
Being as gentle as usual, Jack suggested a plan B for us to make it to our date in town. He said that he could drop us off at the nearest beach. With the serenity of a middle age Dutch men he started to take us two by two on subsequent trips to the beach. It took him so long that by the time we were all dropped off it was dark and we had to find the group using the lights of our iPhones. With no shoes on and full of sand, we went on our way to find the main road.
The little path ended up at a busy road and off to the side there were the six of us, who suddenly looked as prostitutes looking for clients. This realization immediately made us laugh at ourselves. Since I was wearing a sequin dress they thought that I should lead the way until it got quite dangerous and we had to switch to he opposite side. We tried stopping some taxis at no avail and before we knew it, we had walked the two kilometers and were in Porto Cervo.
I stopped and shook the sand off my feet and pretended that the last thirty minutes had not actually happened. It had not been a very distinguished entrance. That is for sure.
After devouring a plate of pasta and some ice cream, (and in my case, digesting it all with a fight on the phone with crocodile) we headed over to our date with the boys who had already texted the meeting point. Most of us had never met or seen each other before so putting together a group of twelve strangers and pretending to have a naturally flowing conversation was almost mission impossible. But drinks and small talk helped break the ice a lot.
They were cute well educated men with impecable British manners, or so we thought. After 45 minutes we were laughing and joking around, talking about going to the islands´ most famous club together and thinking that this was going be a great night out.
Then something extremelly odd happened. One of them got a call. He stood up and went inside, his friend followed him. Soon thereafter three other of the boys were also gone. We were now around a half empty table with Phillip the owner of the boat, who was sitting next to Florence and who she had already baptized Fifi just for laughs.
Twenty embarrassing minutes later we understood that these guys were not coming back outside, they were standing us up. Evidently that call had changed the course of the evening.
We said goodbye to Fifi who sincerely apologized for his friends behaviour and left.
What a great night.