From fisherman pants to rhinestones - My summer as Elvis Presley

Nothing in the world in my eyes quite compares to the pure feeling of insignificance and solitude, it’s a completely unrivalled sentiment, through my travels I’ve driven through the Nevada desert and not seen a car for hours with hundreds of miles of emptiness around me, I’ve sat atop the highest point of a valley in Himachal Pradesh in India and shouted “Hello” and heard nothing but my own voice echoing back, I’ve found the loneliest beaches in South East Asia after walking for miles just to sit there and enjoy pure isolation.

Saying that, there’s no sense of isolation that quite compares to standing on stage lifting a rhinestone cape to a tacky backing track of Elvis Presley’s ‘American Trilogy’ while an audience that consists of a middle aged German divorcee and his son on a week holiday in Spain sit there and pretend to show interest.

In the summer of 2012, that is exactly where i found myself.

My funds of the previous winter were slowly dwindling after trekking round India and losing my mind once again on Koh Phangan, I found myself having to bite the bullet and fly back to the grey skies of London, though only 10 days after my return I received a call from my childhood friend named Leon. Leon and I go for prolonged periods without speaking, though when we are back together it's like nothing has changed and we are still the best of friends.  

His call went something like this;

                                 "Luke, i know you're back and I'm sure you don't want to be. So there's a job in Spain performing at hotels for the summer, I don't really want to go alone and they are looking for 2 people" 

I jumped at the opportunity naturally, as I was not ready to be back home in dreary England, so off we went we to sunny Spain, not having a clue what was in for us.

                 Though when were greeted by fluorescent orange t-shirts and cheesy smiles we had a fair idea the hell that was ahead.

I was cast in the 'Elvis and Grease' shows, the aptly named 'Team Grelvis', from then on I had 6 nights a week of slicked hair and leather costumes.

The first month was soul destroying, being still low there audiences were minimal at best, as i previously mentioned i recall one evening during the 'Vegas' scene where i had to sing an epic Elvis number on stage with my back turned to the audience and lift a rhinestone cape amidst stage smoke and strobe lighting...only when I turned around the sheer sense of depression hit me, the the German divorcee in the audience was filming on his iPhone...though he wasn't filming us...he was filming his 3 year old son playing with a soft toy in front of the stage.

On top of this utter humiliation i had a boss which was comparable members of Hitler's SS, a lanky streak of Dutch piss named 'Marnix', he waltzed around as if he was a God amoungst men, and the worst thing was that he was a die hard Elvis fanatic!
I had to do everything perfectly, from the the way i walked, to the way i moved my fucking fingertips, every night I saw his balding wanker face in the audience i knew i was in for lecture after the show....the fact of the matter was simple and i told him repeatedly;

"I AM A 22 YEAR OLD GUY OF MIDDLE BUILD FROM LONDON, TRYING TO PLAY A 45 YEAR OLD OVERWEIGHT AMERICAN FROM THE SOUTH"