fucked up and started talking to people

if you ever find yourself on a rainy day watching the documentary on woody allen’s european jazz tour “wild man blues” i hightly recommend it.

finally we see what the woodman saw in soon-yi, the same thing i saw in the teens when i was in that phase. to have a perky young woman guide you around the dark twisty alleys of old europe is a treat in itself. and sometimes i think the youngsters seek out such relationships and sometimes i think it is a blessing.

we watch as woody isnt at all taking advantage of his former step daughter and now wife, if anything we see her care for him in a manner that not only seems appealing but warranted. woody stumbles around the huge italian suite like mr maggoo having no idea where the indoor pool is or his bedroom for that matter.

i bring this up because in the olden days i had a very nice traveling companion who would do good things for us like keep me out of trouble, most of which started with my mouth. while traveling my heart opens and i end up talking to everyone. chris can tell you how a simple train ride from paris to venice ends up in an all night party with the train conductor, an aspiring model and two guitarists, where in order to get our own couchette i am enlisted to put pillowcases on pillows(!) for twenty minutes.

ashley however was the best one for me on the road as she was protective and jealous, wanting all atention and conversation to revolve around her, thus when strangers ended up talking with me for more than five minutes she would either drag me off somewhere suddenly or blatantly pout thus ending all conversations. this would keep me out of trouble. what trouble? the trouble of meeting all walks of life and the parties that they were to invite us to. the trouble of ending up drunk within an hour in a foregin land with a foreign party with a forgeign map and no phone on the first night of vacation.

or in a foreign coffee shop despite making the promise that i wouldnt go to one for fear of coming across as just another american tourist doing the typical ugly american things. i didnt know it was a coffee shop. it looked like a nice bar. and all i wanted was a pepsi.

she asked me if id like it in the bottle with a straw and i said yes. she had flat pumas, fishnets, a ridiculous miniskirt that just flopped around the hips and a pirate shirt and a nametag that had lots of a’s in it.

previously i had met some australians at a bar who had offerred me a half pot half tobacco cigarrette puff and i said nah but drank with them because they were singing and i asked them if they knew any pogues songs and they knew pretty much all of them starting with “south australia” which we sang maybe ten times. it got annoying after the third time but by the fifth time i had knocked back enough rums that i was begining to understand the words.

the general rule of thumb is you dont want to be caught in the red light district after dark but i woke up at one of the australians friends rooms. we both had our clothes on and one hand was on her ass and one hand was under the pillow that she was sleeping on. it was three am. who was this girl i thought. cute. not super cute but cute enough. what had i said to her? was that my laker hat on her blonde head?

she spoke the crazy language that i hear a lot in this city. gotta give em props for sticking with that language. whatever it is. its pretty. she whispered and followed me into the hall speaking the nice words and holding my hand.

i told her that i was hungry and heading home. and she said no no. red light district. how fucked up would it be if the only words you knew in english were no and red light district. she was saying this because in order to get to my hotel id have to walk through the famous area known for its legal prositution and illegal drug dealing and pimping.

i was hoping that it would also be famous for late night eateries, particularily something chinese. as i walked through the mazelike tiny alleyways i was tempted to smell my fingers to see if they could refresh my memory but its so cold here right now, if you remove your hands from your coat they will break right off. im getting gloves and a coat tomorrow. serious.

i ended up settling for a shawerma served not in a pita but in a french roll with french fries. a rasta man approached me as the dude was fixing my dinner and asked me if i wanted any e i said no thank you. coke? no thank you. a fat joint for a euro? uh.

and they say you shouldnt get weed from people you dont know because they might lace it with something and i always thought why on earth would people spend extra money and time to put more drugs in your drugs?

and now it’s 641am and i wish i had my teenage accompliss because she would have kept me out of trouble or she could have told me what had happened last night, but mostly she wouldnt have allowed me to pass out whenever it was that i passed out because now im up at 642, off schedule and this is how jet lag can get you.

tomorrow (wednesday) im meeting adam from sliceny, john from americablog, alice from finslippy, mark from bicyclemark and los angeles blogger mr brian flemming at Cafe Americain, at the American Hotel, Leidseplein 28 at 4:20pm so if youre in town stop by and say hola or holla or whatever it is that they say here.

im in a five star hotel in amsterdam

planets aligned

and ive already broken some shit.

first thing i broke was my power converter that i got at radio shack in hollywood. this is a fancy hotel and the plugs are sorta in the wall a little and the converter is this huge block thing with little prongs so it wouldnt fit in there, so i had these adapters so i put the adapter in the plug and then the converter in the adapter and then plugged my computer into that.

i smelled a sweet plasticly aroma but the battery was charging so i thanked God and checked my email, etc.

eventually the computer stopped charging and i knew i was in trouble so real quick i searched “ibook european charger power adapter” and Answers.com said that most american products didnt need power converters that all they needed were power adapters. so i put the little adapter in the wall socket and plugged my compter in it and viola alls good in the hood.

because i was a boyscout im always prepared so i had a second adapter. i plugged that into a different wall and plugged my iHome ipod alarm clock radio into it. instantly i smelled burning plastic and zap. so my ipod doesnt have a charger now and i am stuck listening to the Dutch version of The Box which means bad reggae, r&b, and hip hop.

so now im thinking i try to find a Mac store and get a european charger for my ipod and leave it behind when i return to LA.

how was my flight over? KLM is a great airline, but the people who fly it arent so great. i was in a row that had three seats. because im always prepared i made sure that i had a window seat. some mafia dude with a huge leather coat got the middle seat and this old lady had the aisle.

the mafia dude established that he was going to have Both arm rests and i sorta leaned away from him, popped in my ipod earphones and lowered my cap over my eyes and pretended to fall asleep. soon i was asleep. when we got to cruising altitude he asked the stewardess if it was ok if he found a new seat. she said yes.

SO FOR SOME REASON this was the signal to the old lady to sit in the middle seat next to me. i was all sorts of WTF. i swear to God that when im in a public place i am the most attractive person in the galaxy EVERYONE wants to be as close to me as humanly possible.

so when it became obvious that she had found her new seat i pulled out my computer and intentionally elbowed her as much as possible. eventually i just said, excuse me, would you mind moving back to your seat so i can work? she looked at me like i was the one who was insane and leaned two inches away from me.

amsterdamevery now and then i saw her reading what i was writing so i decided i was going to write the dirtiest most pornographic sex drugs and murder story of all time titled “The First Time I Got AIDS and Murdered People”

sadly i dont think she knew english as that didnt frighten her in the slightest. then a movie came on so she put her feet on the aisle seat and then she had the nerve to lean on me a little. i just elbowed her a few more times and finally sighed. she huffed and moved back to her seat and everything was cool.

until it was time to eat. and then that fucking whore moved back right next to me!!!

was she lonely? did i look like her long lost son? did she think i was going to fall in love with her and take her into the rest room and grant her membership into the mile high club? i swear i would have done it if it would have guaranteed that she would move back to her seat and allow me my personal space.

but no, she stayed there and laughed at the movie – The Were Rabbit- and i steamed. i had remembered what some of the other Bloggers in Amsterdam had advised regarding fighting jet lag. they said dont sleep in the day. i knew i was going to arrive in Holland at 11am so i figured if there was only 5 hours left in the flight, those were going to be the 5 hours i was to sleep even though it was barely 6:30pm LA time.

so i lowered my cap, i lifted my blanket and i put that horseshoe shaped airplane cushion around my neck and i dozed off. but before i did i made sure to fart a few times for good luck.

when i awoke she was back in her seat.

we landed smoothly in holland. it was rainy and crappy but it didnt bother me. im in freaking Europe! i got through customs in like 5 minutes. my bags arrived. i changed $60 and got 42 euros (fuck you george bush) bought a ticket for the train (3.40 euro) and arrived at Centraal Station a few hours ago.

i found my hotel within minutes. its right by the station and i pooped immediately after reading how Dooce had problems with that, uh, duty, and now that ive posted its time to hit the road, get a coke, a sandwich and take some pics for you.

yes i feel like a lucky man. and as i leave you i have a dilema… im here as a guest of the Dutch Tourism Board. theyre paying for the hotel and the airfare. i dont know if they get the bill for the mini bar or if i do.

so the question is, is it bad form to make them have to pay for the mini bar charges? a can of apple juice is 4 euros in this place ($6.66). i remember hearing a story about when Larry Bird was being courted by the Boston Celtics that he had no room charges because he was a gentleman. am i under the same coolness rules?

before i dip into the bar i await your suggestions. until them may i say that im very grateful to be here. and im feeling more than a tad unworthy.

basart, your lens is amazing, thanks for letting me borrow it