If you’ve read any of my previous posts you know that my hubbie and brother-in-law work in the sailing business here in Palma de Mallorca and also dabble in the occasional race. If you haven’t read any of my posts, I suggest you get cracking. You’re missing out on many an entertaining shenanigan.
Well the last race of the season, La Copa del Rey, has just recently come to a close after five grueling days of heart pounding competition, the occasional wreck, post race parties, euros in preppy nautical garbe along the lines of what you might see in an LL Bean catalog.
As in all competition, there is a prize giving ceremony attended by the crews, their friends and family and of course racer chasers (I’ve just learned this term. Apparently they’re like groupies, but for sailors. Cute, huh?), oh yeah and the KING OF SPAIN! No big deal.
Don’t ask me why, but when I found out he was coming I somehow deluded myself into thinking that it would be like an intimate dinner event and we’d get to meet him, chat about interesting topics like politics, travel, how cute our outfits are… You know, the usual dinner party chit chat.
I was very quickly slapped in the face by reality. Not only did I not get to mingle with the King, but he didn’t even show up. Apparently, he had better things to do. Whatev. The Prince, however, did come. But we didn’t get to trade fashion tips or talk about our dream vacations. Sadly, he just came to congratulate the winners and suffer quietly through a few photo opps. BORING. Ah well, at least I caught a glimpse of his highness and enjoyed a lovely, albeit hot and sweaty and not in a good way, evening in the center of old Palma. Oh, and there were lots of cute euro sailors to ogle, including my adorable hubbie!