By John Coyle
Margarita was dead serious yesterday morning as we were preparing to bounce from Barcelona: “You’d better not plan on getting any sleep tonight! Tonight we are going to party in Ibiza!”
Since the last two days have seen us make epic drives from Paris to Barcelona, it’s not like I’ve gotten much sleep regardless of what exotic locale was on the day’s menu, and I’ve long ago resigned myself to the fact that I’m just going to crash out cold on my flight home. But I think she meant it more in a figure of speech kind of way. But her statement was a good opportunity to bring up the fact that, as her favorite hat says, “A Little Russian Party Never Killed Anybody,” and make some jokes in the bad Russian accent I’ve been cultivating all week. Of course, before we could punish our systems with some ferocious partying to celebrate the end of the rally, we were going to have to make the four-hour drive to catch the ferry to the Mediterranean techno mecca. That would prove somewhat challenging.
For the first hour or so, everything was going fine. Since it was the last day of driving, both Alisa and Margarita were in the Lamborghini. We figured they’d spent enough time shuttling around the support staff—and the likes of me—and deserved a fun run where they could chill out and make conversation in their native tongue.
But as we got closer to the boat, the cops became unavoidable—and they weren’t screwing around. The boys in blue had deployed rolling speed cams inside a police vehicle, which was moving at a snail’s pace in the far right lane.
They pulled over every car sporting Gumball livery, and it was clear they saw the rally as a way to pad their wallets. Despite trying to stick to the speed limit, we got pulled over and fined after every toll plaza on the highway. Given that all the fines were due immediately, with cash, you can bet that most of the money was never actually turned over to the local governments.
Regardless, Team AnastasiaDate.com was €500 poorer when we arrived at the ferry terminal. Repeated shakedowns aside, the posh ferry made for a really good ride to the Med. Everyone on the Rally was in good spirits, and it was cool to see everyone—or most everyone—in once place again.
The Gumballers had received a warm welcome at the hotel the night before, and that Spanish hospitality was extended in Ibiza, as crowds lined the streets and begged the drivers to rev their engines.
Tomorrow, I fly home to LA, but look for a post next week where I’ll wrap up some of the points—and entire cities—I had to gloss over during this absolutely insane week on the road. For now, I’m headed to the final Gumball party of 2014. Keep your fingers crossed I don’t over-party and do something stupid like miss my plane.
Until then, head over to AnastasiaDate.com for all the details on 2014’s hottest Gumballers!