While enjoying a vacation in the Mediterranean, the sun was shining, promising a warm 31 degrees Celsius. It seemed like an ideal day for shopping, savoring a lengthy lunch atop a picturesque Spanish rooftop, or lounging by the hotel pool.

I had a different idea.

I couldn’t bring myself to merely relax indoors on this beautiful day in Spain.

The allure of a glamorous European beach club had always captivated me.

At the far end of an infinity pool, a view of the Mediterranean Sea stretched out to the horizon. This locale offered sunbeds, towels, delightful music, and table service, complete with any cocktail you could dream of—all for a single entry fee.

Here, stunning individuals drifted barefoot between shaded lounges under the sun, reveling in a carefree atmosphere as they raised their glasses in celebration.

My friends and I were eager to indulge in a day at the beach club.

We were in Madrid for the week and woke up early to catch a 1.5-hour high-speed train to Valencia, a picturesque coastal resort town. With our train tickets secured and a reservation at the trendiest beach club, we set off with the sole intention of creating lasting memories.

Upon reaching the beach club entrance, we joined a queue of fellow dreamers and were relieved to find that the clientele matched our age group. This wasn’t a venue for rowdy teenagers or raucous bachelor parties; it was an exclusive spot where hardworking individuals could enjoy the fruits of their labor, sipping on three-liter Rosé bottles and Tattinger champagne in ice buckets.

Isabella, our charming Spanish hostess, escorted us to our private sunbed, detailing the amenities included with our stay and ensuring we wouldn’t need to move except to dip into the refreshing infinity pool.

Food and drinks would be brought to us; all we had to do was wave down Pedro, our attentive and busy server.

After applying sunscreen and sinking into the plush pillows of our cocoon, we raised our glasses in a toast to the day ahead.

As the temperature climbed to a delightful 31 degrees, we found refuge in the in-pool lounge chairs, where the cool water enveloped us while keeping our drinks safe from chlorine.

By afternoon, the music was pumping, and the beach club ambiance was fully alive. Our group attracted new friends from around the world, sharing stories of their travels and homelands.

Gaetano and Franc hailed from Switzerland. A trio of lively Spaniards, accompanied by two Brazilian girls, informed us that they frequently spent weekends at this beach club as a prelude to another demanding week at their finance firm.

Beneath the beach club lay a maze of luxurious changing rooms adorned with full-length mirrors, toilets, and atmospheric lighting. This underground sanctuary not only provided a place to refresh but also served as a discreet meeting point for partygoers seeking to “powder their noses” before returning to the sunny deck to keep the festivities alive.

In this den of indulgence, our day took an unexpected turn.

While I was using the restroom, my friend accidentally collided with three Spanish individuals exiting a stall.

Having consumed a fair amount of alcohol throughout the day in a place where inhibitions were left at the door, the thrill of engaging in a clandestine party ritual added to the day’s allure.

We were no strangers to drug use and were all aware of the hidden truths behind the glittering facade of many party venues.

When groups of affluent individuals, accustomed to yacht trips, rooftop parties, and designer attire, gather for a day of unlimited premium cocktails, there is often an accompanying offer of euphoric pills and small bags filled with Colombia’s finest.

Our Spanish acquaintances were generous, urging us to join them and assuring us that what they were using was pure and safe, promising an unforgettable afternoon.

The sensible part of my mind screamed that this was a reckless decision. Yet, with drinks flowing, the sun blazing down on our sun-kissed skin, and the beats of lounge music enveloping us, all sense of reason slipped away.

Before long, I found myself in a spacious restroom stall with five friends, a long metal key loaded with a mound of vibrant pink powder pressed to my nose.

A wave of warmth spread through me, and I felt an overwhelming urge to embrace my new friends and return to the dance floor.

We drifted back to our sunbed, poured another round of drinks, and engaged in profound discussions, feeling as if we had solved all the world’s problems from our beach club corner.

In our euphoric state, the day felt simply perfect.

“Did anyone else notice that the powder was pink?” I eventually asked.

“Now that you mention it, yes. But I don’t think what we had was cocaine,” replied one of my friends.

Under normal circumstances, I would have panicked, regretting my impulsive decision to take drugs in a foreign land from people I barely knew.

However, the pink powder left me devoid of fear, worry, or concern for our safety.

We were all in the same boat, unable to shift into any reflective or negative thoughts.

What had we done?

We decided to return to the pool, where the cool water felt like a refreshing embrace against our warm skin.

After leaving our VIP space, one of my friends returned with a small bag containing more of the pink powder.

She informed us that our new friends had excess supplies and were happy for us to take the leftovers, cautioning us not to consume too much, as it was suspected to be Tusi rather than cocaine.

> “This substance is pink, sometimes has a strawberry scent, and goes by various names: tucibi, tusi, pink powder. Affluent circles often refer to it as pink cocaine and consider it a luxury drug, with prices reaching $80, $90, or even $100 per gram.”

> “But pink cocaine is neither cocaine nor luxury. Between 2019 and 2022, the organization Energy Control analyzed 150 samples of pink cocaine. They found dye in nearly all of them and cocaine in just two. Most pink cocaine was a mix of cheaper drugs; 44% contained ketamine, MDMA (ecstasy), and caffeine.”

We unanimously decided that, despite the warning against overconsumption, we felt so euphoric that a little more couldn’t possibly harm us.

We rationalized our choices by reminding ourselves that we were on vacation in a lavish day club, experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

As the euphoria surged through us, we eventually needed to return to our beds and lie down.

I closed my eyes, wanting to savor the glorious sensations coursing through me. However, with my eyes shut, I began to see swirling patterns morphing into a kaleidoscope of vibrant images, initially fascinating but quickly escalating into an urgent need to sit up and race to the restroom.

As I walked, hallucinations made it difficult to maintain my balance. My body felt disoriented, torn between collapsing or continuing to move.

Clinging to the handrails, I descended into the changing rooms, only to have my stomach revolt, expelling its contents at the bathroom entrance.

I was powerless to stop it.

I found a solitary toilet stall and remained there for what felt like an eternity, purging everything from my system.

The effects of this drug can range from mild to severe, depending on dosage and ingredients.

Pink cocaine can induce hallucinations, euphoria, nausea, rapid heartbeat, and in severe cases, seizures and respiratory distress.

When I returned to my friends, we discovered that we had all undergone similar experiences. Each of us had hallucinated, felt drained, gotten sick, yet still experienced waves of ecstatic joy.

Perhaps the one silver lining in our predicament was that we could collectively acknowledge the same side effects.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the house music grew more intense, our group spiraled downward due to our unwise choices.

We lay there, drifting in and out of sleep, clutching water bottles and hoping for a smooth journey back home.

We managed to catch our train to Madrid, but unlike the exuberant morning trip, we were silent, clutching our beach bags and striving to steal moments of sleep while trying to erase the day’s mistakes.

The nausea lingered for hours until we finally reached our hotel room, collapsing into bed and expressing gratitude for making it home safely.

The next morning, our group chat lit up with photos from the previous day, each person contributing just two words: NEVER AGAIN!

We undoubtedly had an adventure, created memories, and enjoyed a beautiful day under the Spanish sun.

Yet, we all recognized an important lesson learned that day.

It is crucial to treat drugs of any kind with caution, especially when in unfamiliar territory and around strangers. The allure of a lavish beach club and a carefree day led us down a perilous path that we were fortunate to escape with nothing more than headaches and sunburn.

From now on, we resolved to enjoy vacations filled with good company, delicious drinks, and stunning scenery—without the need for synthetic enhancements.

We learned our lesson the hard way, but we appreciate the experience as a reminder to prioritize safety and exercise caution in every situation.

Never again will we take such unnecessary risks for a fleeting high; it’s simply not worth it.