Life was going great but I wasn’t making much money with the few guilders I got at the hostel added to whatever I could win in the pool tournaments I had found when one night at the Hunter’s tourney one of the regulars got a bit too drunk and let slip about another place in the area. He said that people had intentionally not told me about it for fear that I would take that place over as well. The place was called The Nes Cafe being named after the street it was on. The thing that really peaked my interest was the fact that they had two tourneys per week, an eight-ball on Thursday and a nine-ball on Sunday. I felt quite excited with the new opportunity and headed over there the next day to check it out. I arrived shortly after they opened and found the place empty except for two guys playing pool. I put my name on the board and waited my turn. When I came to the table i made my standard inquiry of whether he wanted to play for 5 guilders? The guy said no but that he would play for a beer and I happily accepted. After three hours playing pool with these guys I had only spent about 10 guilders and was drunk as a skunk. It was a great afternoon as I had found a great place to play in a couple more tourneys a week but even better, I had made my first Dutch friends in the two guys I played with, they were quality guys and I knew we were destined to become great friends.
Living at the Flying Pig was a great adventure, I would get up early most mornings and go over to the park to sit in the warm spring air and smoke a big fat joint. Then I would return for a few hours of light work and the rest of the day was free to galavant around town seeking out new opportunities. Unfortunately for me the Pig was an above-board operation and the reason they could hire me in the first place was a loophole in the law that allowed them to hire anyone off the books for up to 30 days and my time was nearing an end. I was starting to get a bit tense during my last week as I had gotten no new offers for employment and my funds were too low for another hostel. One day while at the Hill Street Blues I was talking to some of the regular crowd about my plight and one of them says that he has keys for a squat up the street and he is leaving town soon so I could have it. This was great news! I now would have my own squat with no rent what-so-ever. My mind soared with the possibilities of what the squat would be like, I had been to a couple of big squats for parties and was amazed at how nice they were, everyone had their own room with running water and electricity so my anticipation was high when I arrived at my new home. I was sorely disappointed to say the least, it was the biggest shit-hole I had ever seen. No electricity or running water, the stairs were broken in half so you only had half a stair to walk on. Dirty and broken wood floors and the walls had been stripped down to the brick which was decaying by the day. This was going to be a challenge but it was better than living on the street. I found a cardboard box to lay on the floor and put my sleeping bag on top of that for a bed, I would use the train station, which was only a block away, to take care of my toiletry needs but with showers costing 10 guilders, they would become an as needed activity. A few days after moving in, Frank returned from his travels and had plans to stay for the summer. He also had nowhere to go so I let him move into the squat with me. It was good to have another person in that place as it was very creepy at night with no lights. We got busy looking for some work and resumed our partying ways with our buddy Kurt.
After a few weeks of searching I was beginning to get stressed as no job opportunities had come my way and the money was near zero. Lucky for me my cousin John still had a finger left on his helping hand and was able to send me some much-needed cash. It was a nerve-wracking experience going to the Western Union at the station to retrieve the money. When the counter person took my (fake) passport and disappeared into the back, every muscle in my body wanted to run out of there and not look back. My mind was racing wondering what was taking so long? Were cops going to rush through the door at any second? Somehow I remained calm on the outside and after what seemed like an hour ( more like 5 minutes in reality ) they returned and called me back to the window to give me the money. I was going to double my efforts to find a job because I did not want to go through that ever again. To make matters worse, one day a guy comes to the squat and has a key to get in and acts completely shocked to find Frank and I there. He tells us that he is the Monkey Man and that he has been hired by the owner of the building to renovate it. Frank and I were sceptical about this guy as he looked like a bum, was a fellow american, and he had no tools with him at all. He told us he was there to check it out and give the owner an estimate, our scepticism only grew when he told us that he would also be staying there. He told us that we could stay but that we would have to give him 50 guilders a week to do so. I decided that instead of arguing his authority with him that I would be better just to humor him and I told him I would be glad to pay him but since I did not have a job that I would not have any money until the following week. Frank picked up my lead and said the same. The Monkey Man hesitated briefly and then said it would be cool as long as we did pay him the following week. We assured him that we would, knowing all along that he would never see a dime.
Frank and I knew that we had to find a new place and fast, however a job was the first priority. I searched high and low for somewhere that would hire me under the table and just when things looked hopeless, one of the regulars down at the Hill Street Blues who has a job running ( handing out flyers and getting people to come to your hotel ) tells me about a rival hotel that is looking for a runner of their own. I thanked him and made a plan to be here bright and early the next morning. My excitement waned a bit when i walked in and saw 2 other guys already there to get the job. The manager tells us that he only needs one person and that we could all go out for the day and whoever brought in the most tourists would get the job. I was determined to win and I hit it hard, chasing down anyone and everyone that had any kind of luggage with them and when the end of the day rolled around, I had brought in 3 times as many as both of the other guys, needless to say I got the job. I would start the next day at the BA, it was a bed and breakfast with private rooms along with beds for single travellers. It was in a great location only half a block from Central Station to the west, easy to see from the area out front of the station which would prove valuable when it came to sceptical tourists. I was to be payed 5 guilders for everyone I brought in and 2.50 for any subsequent night they would stay. The manager was a guy named Jamie and he was a cool cat for sure, he had long hair, rode a motorcycle, and played in a rock band, I sensed right away that we would become good friends. A couple of days after I started while having a light conversation with him about the job, he gets a serious look on his face and says that he has a way for me to make even more money. I didn’t hesitate when I said ‘go on’. He tells me that he will give me the credit for some of the walk-ins if I will split the profit with him. At first I was a bit sceptical wondering if this was some sort of test. He continued with telling me that the owner was a rich bitch who would not miss it and never know. I hesitated for about a second then cracked a smile and said yes, with tourist season just getting into full swing, this was going to be a lucrative summer indeed.
A Continuing Story About Life On The Run