Part 1 "the gay boxer"..its not a million dollar Baby..no

in july 2006 i was once again dumped after a 3 year relationship, the reasons being the reasons being.C* and I had decided to take a vacation together but at the last minute she decided that going on holiday with me would be as two week B&B in Beirut.

So I ended up in Arlanda, went to the local desk and asked for the cheapest seat available to Greece. Sista minuten paid off with the price of 350 kr.So I made the call to C*, bit my lip and started a journey that I never thought I'd ever make, alone.U c, I'm a nearness freak so even going to the cinema alone scares the pants off me.Whatever gave me the courage to go ahead with this I will never know.But I did, and sometimes the pathways have to be walked and experiences and fears faced.So, in the immortal words of Blackadder, I tweaked the nose of fear and sat alone in the airport with what would turn out to be the beginning of not only an interesting journey but also the beginning of an end with a relationship reality breaking up and that process coming in like a welders boots in the nether regions.

Plane landed somewhere in Crete, time stood still at 0200.I asked around and was informed that no way I could hitch a lift with the chartered buses, it was against the law, but why not ask the local taxi drivers. So I did. If felt like a virtual reality rubber stamp hit my forehead when they heard my british accent and I was swiftly on my way to Cretes answer to Ibiza..At this point I believe the driver missed my rather mature plea of :
"yeah, somewhere quiet , somewhere I can just relax, u know, read a book, write my memoirs, gin and tonic..u know.."
After about an hours drive we came to somewhere.Looked nice in the dark, if you know what I mean.He promised a long beach, "the Strip" which I didn't quite understand and of course his mate knew a mate whose second distant cousin owned a respectable joint close to the strip, very good price for you,"my friend.."..
To be fair, the guy was a decent kind of chap.He drove me up to a hotel which didn't look so bad, it was just the smell that struck me straight away, like a sewage farm.But when in greece, I mean they have to empy those wee buckets that you find next to the toilets as they have the ultimate Renova recycling known in history.What about that, its kinda weird when you cant flush the paper down the loo and
I have a theory that its a mental game.The reason I say this is basically if you end up in a country where paper flushing is acceptable then smudging becomes part of a day to day reality, the more expensive and softer the paper the higher degree of smudging..However, if you know your gonna have to by-pass the toilet, open a bin and leave the remains for possibly the most unfortunate hotel cleaners on the planet , the concept of "protein-nip off at the bud" becomes far more apparent..
Anyway, away from that toilet theory and back to my first intro to the hotel.
Just as I negogiating a room price with the young guy working there under the auspicious eye of the taxi driver , a genuine scouser (from liverpool for those not in the know) comes down the stairs, shaved head, covered in tattoos and obviously had one too many shandys and says in hardcore liverpudlian,
" ere mate, I wouldn't stay here, it smells if shiite, fookin shiite,"
At this point I haven't said a word but stand besumed at the sight of the receptionist trying to close a deal whilst being abused full frontal by this guy who reminds me of a character from "boys from the blackstuff"..
Apparently he'd paid extra for a suite (?) and the fridge didn't work, the room looked like shiite, the air conditioning didn't work and was shiite, and of course everything smelt like shiite..."
Nobody could back down and the guy was informed to tell his rep the next day.I was once again warned not to stay in the hotel as it was,,,"Shiite"..
By this time it was 0300 and despite being so late I wasn't tired, simply curious.I paid for 2 nights , headed to my room to discover large patched up holes in the door.I asked the receptionist and was informed about the biggest fight the hotel had ever had happened in the same corridor, english football fans, "they're frikken crazy",I was informed.

Well, I'd arrived and still very confused about my rational decisions the only thing I was interested in now was finding out more about "The Strip" and the 30 degrees plus awaiting me the very same day.

In the next part of The Gay Boxer you get to know about the nightmare of the strip and why "the gay boxer"..
Part 2: headin' down to the strip