All Guts, No Glory Vol. I
*Disclaimer: This post contains adult language and themes.
Picture this, it's September 2012, Sharm El Sheikh, Egypt. The sun blazes down with a heat of 40 degrees and there's little to no wind. I'd been here only a few weeks at this point working for a large entertainment company as an entertainer for a chain of all inclusive, family orientated hotels. I'd been sent out there to cover the team and help out as they'd lost a few team members. They hadn't died, just quit as Egypt was notorious for being a long and arduous season.
The hotel struggled with finance issues meaning that equipment wasn't up to standard and regularly broke in the heat and humidity. The season was a longer season than that of other countries as this hotel was open 12 months of the year consisting of two seasonal crews; a Summer and a Winter team.
I had met the team who were fantastic and had accepted me within their ranks as if I'd been there from the very beginning. Performing daytime duties from 9am through to 4pm and then evening activities from 7pm until midnight each day I had found my place within the adult entertainment department, no not that sort of adult entertainment...
They had adults only volleyball and water polo activities during the day and an adults only bar that was hosted by my good friend Sean Pegg, affectionately known to many as Smithy, Fat Joe Hart or 'That bloke who looks like he ate Gary Barlow'. It soon became know that I was essentially Smithy's bitch. My duties ranged from carrying the equipment to the sessions to fetching his dessert at lunch. Nonetheless, it was all good humoured banter and I had an amazing time out there with Fat Joe Hart and our manager Shep among many others whom I still keep in touch with now.
For about a year before my first of two Egypt stints, I had been suffering from gastric issues. Just ask my old Caravan buddy '32yo Rob' (pictured right), whom I worked with earlier in 2012 at a godforsaken holiday park in Hull. (I'd like to clarify, it was a great opportunity for me and I made some great friends and amazing memories but difficulties with our manager and the living conditions met with a very quiet season and us as entertainers having to do the cleaners duties, yes we actually had to clean caravans..., meant that it left a bad taste in the mouth and I practically bit the hand off the person who offered me the Egypt gig!). I had been struggling with terrible wind and horrendous episodes of diarrhoea.
This combination in a two man caravan was hilariously volatile. No doctor could give me an answer, I'd had tests that all came back negative and was told it was IBS and that there was nothing wrong with me. Trust me, visiting the porcelain throne 15 times in one day is not normal!
So, with this on my mind I was concerned about the stories I'd heard of Egypt and the famed 'Sharm El Shits'. So far though, with carefully planned meals, avoiding the salad, constantly using antibacterial hand gel and not biting my nails, (the number one cause of foreign stomach bugs), I had avoided any incidents and was dropping the kids off at the pool as regularly as before.
This was until one fated night. We had finished our 'Prat Pack' set at the adult bar. Myself, Smithy, Shep, Joe and Torquay Techie; Ben crooned our way through the night and decided we'd hit the Sinai Casino for a lads night. We drank, gambled and smoked cigars in our suits like we were the cast of Ocean's 11. (Pictured below left to right; Ben, Joe, Smithy, Shep & Myself)
It was a blast! On our way home we stopped off at our favourite cafe, Makani's. Look it up if you're ever out there, the carrot cake is to die for. Now, instead of having a breakfast like any normal human being would at 6:30am, we went for their famous stir fry. It was heavenly and satiated our drunken need for food. We arrived back at our hotel at 7am and hit our beds as we had to be back up and at work in less than two hours. We were young and a big bottle of water, lots of coffee and the sunshine would pull us through the day. I awoke at 8:45am and there was a horrific smell in my room, I figured I'd left the window open and they were doing sewage work outside. I sat up and immediately knew something wasn't quite right. I felt like I was sat on something. I put my hands down and the bed was wet, my immediate reaction was that I'd wet myself! I got out of the bed slowly, stood up and turned around. What faced me was something I will never forget and I won't go into detail. Needless to say my stomach problems had reached a new and extreme low. I immediately set about working out what to do. I called my morning shift buddy, Joe and explained I'd be a little late, jumped in the shower and got dressed. I then stripped the bed sheets, all of them, including duvet and black bagged them. We had a daily cleaning and laundry service so I popped them outside my room and left them there. In hindsight I should've taken them to the laundry myself but I had panicked and didn't know how to fix this. I would later learn that our cleaner, Mohammed really didn't appreciate what he found in those bags... sorry Mo. I had to even flip the mattress, it was like a brutal massacre had take place with chocolate mousse as the victim. I then had a moment of 'what would people say, how would I live this down?', I had the answer! I ran upstairs to Smithy's room and knocked on his door. After hearing groans and moans, a disheveled and still drunk behemoth of a man opened the door. It was as if I'd awoken a bear from his hibernation. With a rough grunt and an accent from the midlands he mumbled, "What the fook do you want?" I smiled and replied with "I shit the bed." He just stared, clearly perplexed as I repeated "I shit the bed. A lot." He shut the door and apparently went back to his slumber. I stood there for a few seconds staring at his door until I decided I should probably get to work. My day duties continued as normal and I didn't mention the incident to anyone. It eventually came time for adult volleyball and I headed down to the beach to meet Smithy for today's matches. I was greeted by the usual crowd of regulars who you build a rapport with and exchange insults over the net while ridiculing the dads for their terrible budgie smugglers and they ridiculed me for having the body of a twelve year old, a tan similar to being translucent and the skills of a cabbage during volleyball and water polo. All of a sudden, one of the guests shouts "Whey, it's Shit-The-Bed Knowles!", I raised my arms in the air, smiled and carried on down the beach as if I had somehow, subconsciously known this was going to happen. Smithy was on the floor doubled over, crying with laughter and practically unable to breathe. To this day I'm fond of that memory, and it's one of the moments that taught me to laugh at myself and people will laugh with me rather than at me.
Smithy asked me, as you're probably wondering also, why the hell did I tell him? If I'd never said anything, nobody would have known. Nicknames like S-T-B Knowles, Winnie The Poo(h) or Shit Break would never have been thrown around. My answer to him and you is, I don't know. I guess I was worried about people finding out and ridiculing me. If I made fun out of myself and found the hilarity in the situation then so would others but we could laugh about it together and it wouldn't have a negative stigmatism attached to it. And it worked, those of you who know me, know that I'm open and always find the humour in my pitfalls. No matter how bad things may get or appear to be, there will, 99% of the time, be a funny side to it. You just have to look for it.
Thanks for the memories, Egypt '12.
I hope you enjoyed the first in a series of All Guts, No Glory.
Thanks for reading,
Matt.
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