I HAD no idea what to expect after booking a 32-hour ferry trip from Portsmouth to Bilbao to see Manchester United hopefully beat Spurs in Wednesday's Europa League final.
I'd also read reviews of the Portsmouth to Bilbao ferry ride, calling it "one of the most serene ways to travel to the Continent".
I'd heard the BBC podcast on Man Utd and West Ham fans having a full-blown riot on a boat trip to Holland in the 1980s.
The reality of my trip so far, thankfully, is nothing like either of those.
The atmosphere has been absolutely brilliant, with fans of both clubs mixing in the pub long before the 10pm departure, and in the ferry bar long after last orders at midnight.
There's even an Arsenal fan out here hoping to see Spurs lose too.
I enjoyed a few in the beer garden of the Ship and Castle near the ferry port on the sunny Sunday before we took off.
I'd be talking to some fans about the mad boat trip ahead and plans for Bilbao for 10 minutes before we'd establish who one another supported.
There's still good banter about both sides' abysmal seasons, but with a lot of the chat being about who is actually worse, not better.
Plenty of Murphy's and some classic cabaret just added to the holiday mood once we were on board.
We ramped up the booze cruise vibes at about 1am by venturing out on to the top deck (I was pretty amazed they left the doors unlocked considering the clientele on board).
But after convincing one particularly drunk shipmate that he'd be in serious trouble if he jumped in the sea, I thought it safer to head back inside.
After another nightcap I returned to my four-man cabin which thankfully I have all to myself.
Because my cabin is in the middle of the boat it's pitch black. That, coupled with not being disturbed half-way through the night by my two young kids, meant I slept like a baby.
As for sea-sickness, there's not so much a gentle rocking of the waves but rather a weird constant jolty sensation like you get when you start a car that has left me a bit wobbly.
I'm sure it's nothng to do with all that Murphy's anyway.
I've at least managed to hold down my breakfast, which I ate surrounded by the normal holidaymakers, not football fans, who make up about half of the passengers on board.
Not surprisingly, most of the supporters were still in bed at that point, but I'm sure I'll catch them in the bar later for the quiz and more cabaret.
Chants of "Keano, Keano…" from down the corridor suggests some are now starting to rise.
As for me, it's time to check out that top deck again…