Thorns

04

February 26th
Bahrain Grand Prix

Lelia Amani

Ibiza was a mix of emotions.

A small island off the coast of Spain, 150 kilometers from the nearest Spanish city of Valencia. Its beautiful beaches were warm and windy, allowing anyone to feel every ray of sunshine hitting their skin. The marinas were filled with large yachts, millionaires finding unique ways to make the venture out to the small island.

The waters of the Balearic Sea were clear, and the sandbar was never cleaner as every living marine animal was visible. Not a cloud occupied the sky, perfect weather when treating a hangover with a cold Bloody Mary in hand.

The "yoga retreat" Tessa and I took here back in our freshman year for spring break had been a week I would never forget. At least, the parts that I remembered, I would never forget. To be back here was nostalgic, to say the least.

After feeling every ray of sun hit my skin for hours on end, slowly curing the hangover I had from last night, Tessa and I found ourselves back at one of the largest and most well-known nightclubs in all of Ibiza. Hï was the first club Tess and I had ever been to, and to be back at the break of dusk was allowing hundreds of memories to flood back, whether I was sober enough to remember them, or they were memories that I didn't realize I had. However, those were few and far between.

The club was crawling with people, both locals and tourists. I could only imagine what it was like living in Ibiza and partying often. Tessa mentioned numerous times how it was her retirement plan, to be fully retired by thirty and be living and partying full-time in this city. Dragging me along with her was part of that plan, but I was perfectly content with visiting her on occasion.

"Come on! I'll push us up to the front," she insisted, grabbing my wrist in a tight, almost uncomfortable grasp as she started to navigate us both through the thick crowd of people dancing, jumping, drinking, doing drugs, and getting into fights. As much as I was prepared to rip my arm away from her grasp, I let her lead me, more worried about getting a fist to the face than the painful grip she had on my small wrist.

"Tessa, the closer we get to the front, the closer we are to getting kidnapped, raped, or murdered, or all three," I shouted over the blaring music, the kind you could feel making your heart beat faster, at nearly the same rpm as the songs blaring.

"No, trust me. You'll like what you see," she shouted back, giving me a promising look for a quick second before turning back around and continuing to push harder. I let her lead me, the limited view of the stage getting closer as the music somehow continued to grow louder. While I enjoyed going out with Tessa, especially to the bars back home in Miami, a place like Hï was not my cup of tea. I preferred the bars. A more low-key environment, one where the bartender knew your drink as well as the regulars knew your name.

The comforting feeling of being in a safe place, despite it being Miami, was something I cherished. Big clubs like Hï were supposed to be a one-and-done situation after spring break that year, but somehow, I had found myself back here, and some reason, right before the start of the Formula One season. This was not how I should be spending my last weekend before the first race in Bahrain, but I had no choice.

I just ended up here. With Tessa, who lived over 7,000 kilometers away from me.

She had managed to squeeze us through the tight crowd, pulling us to the very edge just before the stage. The group of DJs behind the booth were all either drinking and taking videos or spinning the disks and creating whatever remix had come to their mind. Lights were flashing in every direction, fog machines blowing faux smoke from both sides of the DJ booth, and people around us were pushing the two of us around like ragdolls.