alexander_

My best friend George has a serious motor fetish. A collectible Rolls, a Mercedes ML SUV, several Harleys and Ducatis, and a 997 Porsche C4. So when he said, we'll go out in the Porsche to meet some friends with Porsche's, honestly I thought nothing of it, other than we'll be drinking at some new watering hole tonight. What should have tipped me off was the second use of the word Porsche. So we're driving out to the National Road Friday night toward the ATH Airport, and it's so dead you could have landed a plane or two. I'm still oblivious, singing away and cracking jokes. We come up to four Porsches, not quite parked on the freeway, but cruising at 3mph, talking to each other and maneuvering around as if the freeway was a bar and they were lounging freely. All five cars had passengers, as it turns out to keep the weight fair. This isn't good, and there is no leave-me-out-on-the-side-of-the-dark-freeway button. Rules were simple. Race initiates when all five cars line up and by honking three times, the honker rotating from race to race. First car to 300km/h (190mph, near car's top speed) wins. We raced over twenty times. George won every race - skilled and no regard for his gearbox. I started holding on for dear life, but after 10-15 races, I was reading the newspaper when not making fun of the other drivers. When we finally pulled over to pee, I may have killed that tree.

So, then George says, let's go out in the boat to a couple of the islands- that's a 27ft inflatable speed boat- I was like, sure, hearing what I wanted to hear islands, boat. Want to guess what the operative word was? Speed! Boat. Sure we got to a couple of nearby islands, had some great recreation and food, but the rides were over three hours total, and at 50 knots per hour on slightly choppy sea, meant literally white knuckles from holding on to stay on the boat. I know what you're thinking. Alex is an idiot who does not learn. It is true.




Last year, my childhood friend Achilles is steering another large inflatable near Patmos Island at reasonable speed but against harsh weather. Five beaufort winds are not a lot to a large ferry but they are punishing to a 30ft speedboat. Worse, idiot here decides to sit at the aft (front) part of the boat. Well, I'm holding on with both arms stretched for maximum tension, just to stay on the boat. At some point decide to make a run for the back. As I release my arms and raise my bare foot, the hull lifts abruptly, strikes my big toe, and dislocates it to a near 90-degree angle. So now I am holding on for dear life and screaming like a little girl in pain. I'm probably not even being fair to little girls. It's not like they can stop the boat, but they are not even trying. In agony, I decide to let go of both hands, twist in the air and land on my back with another painful thump, so that I can free up my arms to re-locate the big toe in its socket. Yes, I'm still screaming. Right as I succeed in putting the big toe back, Achilles (SlutBoy, pictured) the skipper in his booming voice finally speaks and says, Do you know what pirates do to the injured?, to which I replied in a screeching voice I didn't know I had I'm fiiiine!



Tomorrow is the Matala Hippie Festival in Crete from last weekend. I promise some crazy good pics and stories.

I have been doing little iphone videos for Youtube. I just uploaded four, here's Lover's Eyes cover, Mumford & Sons. Be kind in your comments now that you are learning about all my sufferings.