5/28/16,
“Athens 2004”
Athens, Greece
I’m
home. No, I’m not at my apartment in
Manhattan. I’m not at my parents’ house
in Scarsdale. I’m home. I did it.
I found my way into the Athens 2004 Olympic Stadium. The main purpose of this trip. “There’s always a way in,” I kept telling
myself, and there was one. I’m
home. Of all the 26 Olympic Stadiums,
this one, perhaps, means the most. I saw
it being built in 2004. I practiced all
the events in Scarsdale. I watched every
event I could. The Olympics had come
home, and, now, so have I. I’m home. There’s no other word to describe it.
How long I will be able to stay before I get
kicked out, I have no idea, but, for now, I’m home. This was the main purpose of the trip. I am staying at a hotel less than a mile
away. I was prepared to do almost
anything necessary to get inside this Stadium, and I had planned it to be an
all-day event. It took me thirty minutes
from the time I left the hotel to get inside.
Now, I’m home. No Olympics meant
more to me than the 2004 Games. The
security guard who let me in to take a photo for “just one minute” has no idea
how much this means to me. No one, not
even my readers can fully comprehend just how much this means to me. There is only one person in the world who
does: my mother. It is 7 AM on the East
Coast of the United States, 4 AM on the Pacific Coast, so there is no one I can
call to share my joy. Instead, I will
write this entry for as long as I’m allowed.
Actually, I think I have to leave now, so I’ll finish outside.
I am calling
this trip “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” in honor of the ballet we saw on
Wednesday, based on the Shakespearean play set in Athens. However, “A Comedy of Errors” would be a more
fitting title for today. Before I
address the comedy of errors that was my check-in at the hotel and the journey
from EWR to ATH, I will tease out a little more of the adventure that was got
me inside the Stadium. A year ago this
very day, I snuck into the Stockholm 1912 Stadium, where King Gustav so
famously called Jim Thorpe the greatest athlete in the world. I will excerpt a passage from that entry: “It
was not the first Olympic Stadium I’ve snuck into, and it might not be the
last, either (Melbourne, Athens, I’m talking about you).”
The Melbource Cricket Ground is actually open
to the public, but the Athens stadium not so much, and the Rome 1960 Stadium
not so much either. When I took my
ceremonial picture inside the Stadium, I announced, “Rome, I’m looking at
you.” There’s always a way in. This was the most challenging, since, as far
as I knew, it was completely out of use.
I was not willing to risk being arrested to sneak in, but anything short
of that was fair game. It turns out that
they are in the process of repurposing it to serve as a football stadium, which
meant that there was some staff on-site, much like how I entered the Seoul 1988
Stadium.
As I wandered the perimeter, much
as I did in Seoul, I considered my options.
The outer fence was easy enough to climb, but the adjoining park had
people walking around. Even if I managed
to climb the outer fence, the inner fence looked impenetrable. I continued walking, looking for a way in,
any way in. That is where I will leave
the adventure and return to it in its proper chronological order after I light
up another cigar, the very cigar I had brought for this celebratory occasion.
Okay, so
what happened after I closed at Newark and published my entry? My co-worker was also flying out of Newark
out around the same time, so I tried to find him at his gate. No luck.
I got back to my gate at the time they were supposed to start boarding,
only to hear a final boarding announcement.
Huhhh??? Well, I got on the plane
and got situated. The in-flight movie
selection was pretty great, and I opted for “The Lady in the Van”, for which
Maggie Smith was nominated for a Golden Globe.
The movie was kind of boring and we were still on the ground an hour
past our scheduled take-off time. I was
almost done with the movie by the time we were in the air. I was also regretting not finishing my lunch,
as I was absolutely starving.
For round
two, I opted for the 1980s classic, “The Breakfast Club”. They served dinner during that movie, some
kind of teriyaki chicken. The movie was
amazing, and, after I was done, I messaged my friend, debating if John Hughes
needed to be considered the GOAT (Greatest of All Time). We agreed that he was the GOAT for
teen/kids/family comedies, and the greatest comedic director of the past 70
years. That’s high praise. I then went to sleep, waking up when they
served breakfast, which was a croissant with jam. I was starving, but it was pure carbs, so I
took a pass.
We soon landed. As always, Schengen border control was lax
for me with my American passport. They
just swiped it and stamped it, no questions.
There wasn’t even an agent at customs.
I took a taxi to the hotel, and I could see the structure from the
Olympic Stadium from the lobby. They
even had the Olympic Rings on the wall.
I was home. I just needed to
change and head to the Stadium.
My room
wasn’t ready yet. It was 11:50 AM, but
they said it would be ready in 40 minutes.
That was when the comedy of errors began. I was starving, so I figured some coffee and
food would kill the 40 minutes. I got
two cups of Greek coffee and a cold cuts platter. That did the trick. It was 12:30 PM when I was done, the 40
minutes had passed. Of course, my room
was not ready, and they apologized profusely.
They said 15 more minutes. Well,
15 minutes later, it was not ready. Now,
I was angry. If they had told me an hour
from the beginning, I might have just changed in the bathroom and headed
out.
I asked, very firmly, honestly, how
much longer it would be. 15 more
minutes. I waited until they called
me. It was about 10 minutes. They pulled out my file. It was the wrong name. Embarrassed and confused, they realized their
mistake. Perhaps my actual room had been
ready on time, and it was this other room that was not ready? Then there was paperwork to fill out. Seriously?!?
I had told them that I was in a hurry, why could I not have filled out
this paperwork while we were waiting for the room!?! I went up to the room they assigned me, only
to find someone else’s suitcase was there.
I called downstairs, and they upgraded me to another room, which had a
better view of the Olympic Stadium.
Okay, that was good, one problem, though. This was not a smoking room. She told me to just open the windows, and
she’d bring me an ashtray. Okay
then. I changed and got ready to head
out, for whatever adventure this entailed.
I lit up a Padron Damaso, and it was a bit of a maze to find the
Stadium, but I was there in about 15 minutes.
There was a park, if I could call it that, outside the Stadium, where
people walk and bike, which limited my options.
The “park” was all rundown and there was precious little grass, most of
it dead. I expected this. I had done my homework. I did not, however, know how I would be able
to get inside, but, “There’s always a way in,” I reassured myself. I left off earlier, describing how I was
contemplating every fence, looking for an unlocked gate.
I kept walking, and, halfway around, I saw
some maintenance equipment, and there was a garage gate that was ajar next to a
fenced door. That looked promising. It was all locked. I then heard someone yelling at me, a
maintenance worker in a golf cart. He
looked like the kind of person I could bribe to let me in, if he spoke
English. He did not. He gestured for me to leave. I kept walking, not away from the Stadium,
but alongside it. I then found an open
door that led straight to the inside of the Stadium. I left my cigar outside and walked in.
I was approached by someone from
facilities. He spoke English. I didn’t even have to offer a bribe. I just asked if I could take a picture “just
for one minute”. I told him I had come
all the way from New York for this. He
let me in. I walked in. I was
home. I took my ceremonial pictures and
got ready to leave.
Wait, why did I have
to leave? Until and unless he chased me
out, I was home. I sat in the stands and
proceeded to write my entry. Eventually, the guy from the golf cart came
and chased me out. He talked to the guy
who let me in, who said something about me wanting to take a picture. I was clearly no longer just taking a
picture. I retrieved my cigar just kept
walking, until I got to the other side of the Stadium, the public park
area.
I uploaded my photos and sat down
on some kind of planter/bench hybrid, where I proceeded to write this entry,
lighting up an El Rey del Mundo cigar, truly feeling like the king of the
world. I will now head back to the hotel
so that I can take a nap before my evening activities, whatever they may
be. Maybe I’ll find a cigar shop on the
way back to the hotel. On that note, I’ll
close so that I can get out of here.
There are
far too many similarities between today’s entry and the one I wrote from
Stockholm a year ago today. After I
closed from the 1912 Stadium in Stockholm, I went out to dinner for some local
cuisine and then went back to my hotel.
That was what I did today, in Athens.
In Stockholm, I had some sightseeing to do, but, here in Athens, I used
that time to take a nap instead. I
headed back to my hotel with remainder of my cigar, taking my nap as almost as soon as I finished the cigar.
After my nap,
I worked on picking out a restaurant, opting for a nice Greek restaurant about
a mile away. I went to the front desk
and asked that they inquire about the dress code and if there was a smoking
section available. The questions turned
out to be moot, as the restaurant was fully booked for a wedding party. After some back and forth, he recommended a
nice restaurant called Arismari, so I got my water bottle, lit up a Cabaiguan
and walked to the restaurant, noting how rundown the whole city was.
I was about halfway done with my cigar when I
got there and I had another cigar in my pocket.
I looked at Arismari, and there was not a single diner in the
restaurant. Directly across the street
was a taverna called Iordanis, which was positively lit. I looked it up, and it turned out it was the
oldest tavern in Chalandri, dating back to 1928. It had great reviews. I went there instead. I had been planning an epic evening for
myself, trying to recreate the evening from 2004 in Greece, the first time I
ever got drunk.
The evening was
certainly epic, but it didn’t play out the way I expected. The taverna was such a charming place, that I
didn’t want to leave. I just wanted to
spend the whole night there, soaking it all in, and that’s exactly what
happened. I ordered three dishes, which
came out as three courses: baked cheese, fried calamari, and house
sausage. Each course was better than the
last. To drink, I ordered a Coca Cola
Light and an ouzo that was priced at less than I would pay for one drink at my
favorite Greek restaurant by my office, the place I commonly frequent with my
grandfather.
It turned out that it wasn’t
one shot of ouzo, instead it was a 200 mL bottle, the equivalent of four
shots. Yes, the fact that I had to drink
four shots of ouzo contributed to why I wound up spending three hours at that
taverna, but I was happy the way it turned out.
I finished my cigar with my third course, and I lit up a VSG as I nursed
the rest of my ouzo. At no point did
they come to clear away my plates, which irked me very much. Reader, if you have done the calculation, you
will realize that they left the dirty plates on the table for over an hour as I
smoked my VSG and drank my ouzo.
After I
finished my cigar, I asked for three things: a Greek coffee, the check, and a
taxi to my hotel. If I had had a third
cigar on me, I might have walked back, but I did not. When the coffee came, I poured the rest of my
ouzo into the cup, which was an interesting combination. He brought the check and gave me a 20%
discount for being so slow to clear the plates and ask if I wanted coffee. That was very generous.
I took the taxi back to the hotel and moved
the seat in view of the Olympic Stadium from the window, I lit up an Ardor, and
sat down, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that
I can publish and get to sleep. I have
to be up early tomorrow morning to catch my flight to Rhodes. Today was a booming success, and tomorrow, I
get to check another one of my 17 Goals off from my list.
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