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Legal highs at festivals

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This weekend, the Government asked organisers of this summer’s music festivals to warn revellers about the dangers of ‘legal highs.’ This follows the upgrading of Mephedrone (or meow-meow) to a Class B drug, after it was linked to the deaths of two teenagers in March this year.

Just because the drugs are legal to possess, doesn’t necessarily mean that they are safe and at the end of the day, you can never be 100% sure of what each drug is made up of. The effects can therefore be unpredictable and quite different from person to person; I personally have never tried any drugs; the fear of what might happen has always been enough to put me off.

My sister and I love going to Ibiza and I remember in 2002 (my best holiday ever to date!) we had ventured to Eden for Skool Disco night. It was an eventful week to say the least; we had hotfooted it down to Thomas Cook and asked the travel agent to find us anywhere in the Med, except Ibiza, leaving in the next couple of weeks. I had a totally one-sided opinion (based on news reports largely) that Ibiza was loud, brash, tacky and somewhere you were likely to get mugged and glassed, probably at the same time.

Well, availability was tight and all that she could muster was a week’s Twenty’s holiday in San Antonio Town. Reluctant, yet desperate for some fun in the sun we took it….and what a week we had.

We knew as we boarded that coach to our hotel, that we weren’t in Kansas anymore; our Mum had written a letter to the tour rep giving permission for my sister, Lynsey, aged 17, to go on the holiday and to drink alcohol…as our rep Devali boarded the coach and shouted to us all “who’s here to get good and proper sha**ed?!”, without meeting her eyes, I slowly folded the piece of A4 and told Lynsey to sit down and say nothing. The horror of what could have actually transpired that fateful afternoon has never left me.

We spent most of the time hiding from the Twenty’s rep, who insisted on trying to flog us “bargain” tickets to all the clubs and boat parties; when in reality we got in to each club for free and after the welcome meeting (involving simulating acts which I’ve since repressed), we praised the lord that we hadn’t succombed to said flogging. Anyhoo, this particular night we decided that we had better appear sociable and indeed alive, by accompanying our fellow guests to the ’80s spectacular that is Skool Disco. After the ritual walk through the West End, complete with foghorns and flags (“Lynsey, keep your head down for the love of God!”), we entered the dark and dusky venue and started our partying at 10 pm.

As anyone will know who has ever visited Ibiza, it isn’t a cheap affair, not least for drinks in the clubs. We therefore bathed in Sex on the Beach cocktails before we left, a sticky yet satisfying experience. It got to 6 am and only a few select (i like to call, “hardcore”) people were still standing; two of which, of course, were us. As they ushered us out, I always remember one of the bouncers saying “what are you two on?!”. We casually turned and replied “Coke?”, “thought so!” he replied and it wasn’t till later we realised what he actually meant. Yes, we are that naive…the very idea that he couldn’t believe we were still out and raring to handjive without the aid of drugs astounded me…saying that, six pints of Coke will probably give you its own brand of high…we couldn’t sleep for hours later.

I suppose my point is; when did it become commonplace for festivalgoers or clubbers to not be able to last a full night without taking something? Maybe it’s not that at all, maybe it’s just recreational and for fun, nothing to do with lasting the night out. But toying with my very life has never been a favourite pastime of mine. Give me an Orangina and a Chupa Chup any day.

The full article can be read here:


Written by shelleyhanveywriter

June 21, 2010 at 2:23 pm

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