I write this as I sit in a nice little hotel room overlooking turquoise water surrounded by low hills of white stucco buildings with the signature blue doors and white glow of elegance that characterize many of the Greek Islands. A life of tranquility, devoid of partying in the Greek Islands. However, what makes the island of Ios particularly interesting, at least during the summer, is that down the road about 400 meters from me, lies one of the biggest meat markets in Europe. But it is a meat market where you can’t buy poultry or beef per say – well actually I guess you can, however, it takes the form of roided out Australian men in their uniform (Havana sandals & low cut tank tops), slick Italian spider monkeys (named after their female seduction maneuver – back latching the victim into submission) who wear Carerra sunglasses and short soccer shorts, and a bevy of busty Italian girls with below average English.
I am talking about Far Out, a beach haven on the island of Ios where the young, incredible good-looking, and intellectually challenged come to improve the diversity of the human gene pool by partying in the Greek Islands. I guess intellectually challenged isn’t as apt a description as say superficially inclined, but either way, it is a sight to see. Yesterday as the dance party was just picking up steam (this happens about 20 minutes after the staff litters the dance floor with free drinks for hand selected females), I witnessed meat marketness in its purest form. Hordes of Italian greasers with washboard stomachs and gelled up, Brokeback Mountain metro Aussies swooped on the dance floor like locus.
With a wicked fishhook pull that had obviously been crafted from many attempts on unsuspecting ladies, one very large and extremely fit, fireman looking Aussie scoops up an Aussie brunette from behind. It was a move that would have made any cave man proud. The look on the girl’s face was priceless and captured the true essence of the market better than words can describe – but I will vainly attempt anyhow. It went from “what fucking creep is grabbing me from behind” to “pensive disgust” to “fuck it, he is hot, how bad could it be” as the fireman went it for his drunk, sloppy mini-make out. It was quickly followed up with an attempt at coherent speech, which surprisingly came across more as low grunting. I haven’t brushed up on my caveman in a while but I think the translation was alone the lines of:
“So you want to go back to my cave now that you have witnessed my keen intellectual prowess and overly six-packed abs?”
However, our young Aussie shopper did not buy this particular slab of beef, and our genetically enhanced cowboy went on his way to fishhook another shopper – one hopefully with less scruples about her choice in meat than the last. Anyway you cut it, this is a must see meat market when in Europe for the summer.
Moral of the story:
If you want to shop in the meat market, don’t forget your receipt – in case you want to return that poor, slab of moronic beef.
If you enjoy partying in the Greek Islands and see this meat market yourself, maybe you want to find a job working in the Greek Islands. Then you can witness it in its full glory.