The Last 10 Years (part II)

Yesterday, I told you the events leading up to my resignation from my great job in the UK. For the full text, please scroll down 3 posts to Part 1. Now, on to today's post.

It only took a day of searching for me to find a decent flat in Amsterdam. It was about a half-mile from the Centraal Station, the main train station. It was freshly remodelled with new appliances and fixtures. And it was on the 3rd floor. Lots of steps.

I knew Amsterdam and how to get around quite well. By this time, I had 31 stamps in my passport from entering Holland. Over the last 5 years.

My new accommodations were a 15 minute walk from the area I usually hung out. To get there, I walked past most of the other areas I hung out. So that was handy.

If nothing else, I am a man of routine. Very predictable. Before long, my typical day ran like this: wake up at 6am, smoke a joint while the coffee is brewing. Watch CNN while drinking the first cup, then to the shower. More coffee and another joint. Gather up the necessities for the morning and head out at 7:45am. First stop was an Irish pub. It opened at 8am and I would read the newspaper and drink 2 or 3 pints. Then, next door to “The Doors”, one of about 240 coffee shops in Amsterdam where you can buy marijuana and hash over-the-counter. I’d buy some if I was running low or else just smoke another joint or two. Oh yeah, and have some coffee too.

At 11am, “my” bar opened. I would end up there between 11 and noon, destined to play pool til around 2pm. I was a pretty good shooter and attracted a number of other good players. We all got to know each other well. We’d meet there just about every day; play, drink and get stoned. By mid-afternoon, I would be pretty fucked up and ready for some rest. I often stopped somewhere on the way home to have just one more beer and/or joint. Then it was nap time.

About 5pm or 6pm, I would do the above routine again – all over again. I might change the bars and coffee shops, but the end result was the same. I often wound up at the gay baths which opened at 11pm. When that happened, I would spend the night there and leave about 7am, go home and start all over again. Day after day after day.

I absolutely loved it. It was my heaven. Free to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted and didn’t have to talk to anyone if I didn’t want to. Six months and $18K later, I figured I had had enough. Spending too much money and being sooooo non-productive. I knew that I wasn’t in any shape to return to any sort of work. It was now February 1994.

So I moved back to Houston.

to be continued