• Fiction:
• Non-fiction
• X…… I plead the 5th because I might incriminate myself with some exaggeration.
And I don’t give a shit of how much of this story anyone believes.
One morning I woke up and I knew I had to be gone…..
Too many drugs, no job no car, I lost it, (the car that is) My friends, (drug dealers), time for a change. Well I think I’ll
just go to Ca-lay-form-ya., only 3,000 miles west with probably better drugs?
Well it’s time to say good bye to everyone, pack my shit, stick my thumb out and get outta this ghetto, the rotten
apple. Well watch out Ca-lay-form-ya (California) cause I gonna change that form to fit me.
Saying good bye is just waiting to get the fuck out and figuring if someone can convince ya if there’s an alternative
or not.
Hey Glenn, just stopped by to say good-bye, I’m outta hea (if ya can’t read Brooklyn-eesz, stop right here. I read
Clock-work tangerine or whatever color it was, and didn’t find the glossary till I finished the whole book. Think I re-
read da fucker again?) Well if I fuckin decide to put a glossary in here I givie ya a heads up now. See I learnt
something in P.S. 115.
What the fuck did I learn? I learnt when to fight and when to run. I be a track star and hurdler outta survival. Hey
just so ya know Jews don’t fight. Right? Guess I wasn’t a Jew, just a survivor and I bet I outlived many of my
rivals.
If ya believe what ya hear, they were dead before I took on the world, with or without my help.
Ok back to fuckin Glenn. I get carried a-fuckin way at times.
” Dude ya gotta go elsewhere for ya ludes and grass cause I’ma outta here”.
Glenn: Well sit down and tell me what the fuck ya plan on doin? By the way dis here is my cousin (loser) whatever
the f his name was, Heza gonna get married, got a student ticket and ain’t got plans to go back to Israel.
Hmmmm (well this was 34 or so yr’s ago or so), I’ll give ya 50 bucks for dat ticket if I make it to Europe and 70 if I
make it to Israel. Well dis being a credit deal I had to say my word musta been good. Somehow we made the deal,
I musta left soon after with a new plan.
Getting home the next stop was big Sis. The bitch was livin in the burbs, Long fuckin Island which B’klyn and
Queens is a part of (what a fuckin joke she got outta the ghetto of Bklyn to wind up in Matawan N.J. a nowhere
town an winds up on the butt end of Bklyn that needed borders as to not be considered any part of Bklyn). (Go to
an atlas and look at a fuckin map if ya clueless bout what I’m saying).
Ok here goes all of me; outta the land I never loved and couldn’t wait to get out before I wound up dead or in jail,
of which I’m not sure which is better or worse.
I gotta say good-bye to my niece nephew the bitch sis and big bro-in-law. Stubborn niece and still stubborn PHD
wouldn’t talk to me no more or eat her veggies. Now her brother (gullible as he was and just loved his Unc – ”me”
ate his veggies cause I lied to him and told him, he get big and strong like his Uncle, Me, being 6’2, him being 4 yrs
old) was probably ignorant to what the fuck I was doing, so didn’t have an attitude.
Ok, so much for Ca-ly-form-ya, the plastic pit of the country, I’m off to the military state of the world, clueless of
where the fuck I was going, just knowing I gonna escape the Bad Apple, get to the airport and what do ya expect
(real security), Here I be with a forged plane ticket and did a Quaalude in the car a 714 nonetheless and one more
in my pocket, they giving me the through search. Phewww they didn’t find the other one (a gift from my dealer
roomies),
Ok I made it right, well time to get rid of the other one right? Gulp, I’m off to the plane and just gotta get a seat
number. The lude, the first one kicks in, that search took too long and now I come to this chick and she looks at
me… the forged ticket….. Then back at me and if she would have said boooooo. I think I woulda hit the floor.
• Ok so now I’m in Israel, Tel-Aviv (ain’t the first time I been there). Don’t remember a lot of what I did for the
next few days other than saw my father there in a hotel that was to be bombed in the near future, in. I visited my
cousin and his parents and did the family deed and told myself “I’m outta here and made my journey through the
Negev desert winding up in Elat in the Sinai desert.
Now this is 1972 and I’m lost and I can’t find my way home.
Well that bastard of a father, hijo-de-puta threw me outta the house a couple of years before, so’s I b homeless
right? Well this is 2007 and I’m still lost and lonely and I can’t find my way home, oh no, and I can’t find my way
home.
Well right now I’m sitting in a leather recliner on my Motor Yacht having just sold all my property in Costa Rica
and freezing my ass off in Miami so ya can cry a little tear for me.
Ok back to the Sinai.
There I am camping on the beach in Elat, hanging out on the beach one night, listening to some dude play his gui-
tah in front of a nice beach fire and along comes my princess, golden hair, blue eyes, beautiful, and she’s
interested in me.
Well I won’t go into too many details but my next 10 days with her was like a dream.
Oh I forgot to tell ya that she was, as my hijo de puta father would say “ A Latin chick” in his words a Puerto
Rican. Anyone Latin was a Puerto Rican to him.
Well ya just gotta tolerate his ignorance, being a Jew, thinking he was successful and all. Well ya gotta admit he
succeeded in outliving fuckin Hitler, who sent him to the death camps and if story be true he escaped, and the
truth be he did survive and so I ain’t so sure I be happy as such, cause I be born.
So here’s my story sad but true bout some gals that I once knew, took my lust and drove me in so many directions
that I’m still lost and cant find my way HOME.
I always wonder what that meant to Clapton or even if he wrote the song. Well Blind Faith and Eric has givin me
the rhythm to make me feel and think. Don’t ask me what it means to feel cause we all get moved one way or
another, even psycho’s.
Ok so now I spent 10 days touring Israel with this gorgeous Chilean Jewess and she’s going to Italy. Fuck what
was I thinking? Why I didn’t follow her eludes me to this day. Guess it wasn’t an option. She was sent on a mission
with her group. Unknown to me her and the others in the group were sent on this adventure to The Land O’ Israel
as to guard their lives as We (the CIA) had a plan and everyone knew it I guess except President Allende.
When the hammer was to fall, since this was July and as my memory serves me, he wasn’t taken out till Sept. 72.
There is a lot of information that I should look into but reality is I lost my first real lust..
I never saw her again or heard from her but as history tells us. I know that she having been sent on that journey
with the other 30 or so students cause their parents sent them outta harms way must have kept her there till it was
all over
. Where else can you send your Jewish child but to a land of confusion, where war, as history in which the books
written and command most of our laws today in this world so biased or just jealous to the facts. That the fact is
and was, that the Jews started this western ‘civil-i-zation” with the novel known to most as the Bible, first
testament the ten books of Moses to be enhanced to the Talmud. Whatever ya wish to call it. We Jews never get a
rest we always on the run. Through deserts, mountains, seas, (if ya believe my man Mosses parted them), snow
from the concentration camps, reeducation camps in Russia and last but not least from Ethiopia for almost 6000
fucking years. We always gotta fight or run (hey only the 1,000,000 or so Israeli soldiers did and continue to kick
the shit outta 250 million Arabs).
Well I wound up back in Elat after our tour of the Holy Land my heart void and wondering why she left me or why I
didn’t cower like a puppy and follow her to the worlds end.
I guess that they figured if plan “A” failed the fucker would kill their family’s (gotta give them credit, as to the rest
of families that sent the others on that school tour. with all knowing what a future would be if the coup failed) that
musta conspired to overthrow the dick-tator.
I guess a lot of people knew he was at his end of being a dick and he wasn’t smart enough to figure it out. Snooze
ya looze
OK now I head south, enough of Elat, we hippies weren’t appreciated there by the Israeli army.
So I wind up in a 2 named town Niviot in Hebrew (Hebrew which was my language I studied in H.S. and bribed my
teacher to pass me), and Nawayba or such in Arabic.
I wound up in a community of which was as new to me as to this date I don’t know why I moved on since life was
so easy under the 140 degree fahrenhight sun.
It’s hard to describe what kept me there for months other than I was homeless (hey I never said I was poor) so I
pitched my tent in the “Dunes” 3 date trees down the beach from the Moshav.
There were about a dozen of us backpackers camped out about 300 meters or so south of the Moshav (something
like a Kibbutz) on the Red Sea (wasn’t red at all but the clearest water to this day I ever seen). I shoulda named my
trees lethal cause they were. Date trees got these thorns on them that you can use as darts.
Unbeknownst of me it was a nude beach and all my neighbors were naked unless they went to the Moshav. Well it
took a day or two till I felt awkward and I joined the nude community. I always felt susceptible to a barracuda
taking off my pecker when I wet into the sea but it managed to survive.
Well a lot of these people taught me how to survive in 140 degree heat. First ya get in the sea and cool off till
sunset. 2nd ya work on the Moshav cause they pay and feed ya. Option 2 was significant cause the nearest
supermarket was 70 clicks’ north in Elat.
So I went to work picking cucumbers outta the desert sand. Yeah I said desert sand. Fuckin only a Jew can figure
out how farm in desert sand.
Thinking of it today I feel like I was treated like a wetback. But I fell in with the crowd. Stoop labor can fuck up your
back, as picking cucumbers was as low as ya can stoop. But me being so ingenious got outta that in a couple of
days by volunteering to be a mortar-fucker (mixing cement).
Being a Jew I was treated with preference by all of the chiefs of the Moshav until… we will get to that in a few.
After we completed the foundation that we were mixing cement for. they offered us, me and Armey a new job, to
build a fence around the Moshav.
Well that was easy work and we got a slave to mix the cement for the posts (now we owned a mortar fucker). We
had graduated.
Now all I had to do was learn sign language because they gave us a mute Arab (probably because he was a liar?)
well they cut off your hand for stealing, cut out your tongue for lying and I never wanted to know how ya can lose
your dick so I stayed away from Arabs till….. Tuley
I gonna get back to my Egyptian Princess Tuley S
Well we musta been working too slow cause they changed our contract to paying us by the meter. Whatever, we
didn’t bitch, we got bk’fst and lunch which was dinner to keep us happy till they ran outta material (of which I
learned well and in the next 30 some odd years I still take into account). At which time we were laid off till the next
shipment arrived.
We coulda gone back to stoop labor but they treated us so good that they sold us food from the kitchen. Basically
they charged us what it cost at the supermarket or lower and saved us the trouble of going to Elat 70 klicks away.
During these times, because there were a few of those times when they ran out of materials for our work we were
free.
One morning I decided that wanted to try Acid (as in LSD) one time and took a ½ tab of acid before sunrise.
Sunrise being over Saudi Arabia about 3 miles across the red sea. Then taking the next 1/2 tab watching the sun
come up over the mountains of Saudi Arabia..
Well I played with the (diamonds) sand for a while. I don’t have a clue as to the time passing by I spent playing
with the sand but nobody was awake yet so I got my mask and snorkel and went to the water. What a trip.
As I was snorkeling around the on shore reef which must have been about one and a half times the size of a
football field, I came to the point and ran into this almost 6 ft Cuda sitting in this still water cove with all these little
fish hanging with him.
I was close enough to the cuda as to reach out and touch him, not. To happen.
So I submerged and flipped on, being told that they go for shinny things in the water. A good thing my pecker
wasn’t shinny.
At one point I lifted my head out of the water and saw this Bedouin pass by with 2 camels, they were glowing (I
don’t know how can u explain how you see things being on acid unless ya been there).
At some point a later I was back on the sand dune when I saw him coming back when I first noticed him from the
direction he was headed in and using sign language, Hebrew, Arabic and gestures, I was able to make a trade deal
for a tent which some backpackers had left me when they left for their home, for a camel ride through the Sinai.
Well what a trip, riding a desert ship. I never did acid again but I guess I felt so safe from having a bad trip, that day
that I took the risk. It was a first and last of an acid trip or a desert ship tour..
I just hung out there in Niviot snorkeling fishing, hanging out with the guy that was in charge of the boats, throwing
knifes, boating, fishing, marking the reefs for the glass bottom boats and hanging out with the naked people living
in the dunes, till we received more materials to go back to work.
That’s when I met Tuley. She was an Arab but an Egyptian Jew so I don’t know what you’d call her. Since being a
Jew reclassifies people in the culture I grew up in.
Tuley had been working at the Moshav but for some reason she had left her job there a few days after we met.
Tuley didn’t want to go back to Jerusalem where she had lived with her family and musta fallen for me because
she moved in with me. Well it didn’t take long for her to get into being a nudist among the nudists till I fell outta the
reverence of the Moshav cause they called her family and told them she wasn’t working there anymore and living
with me.
Her sister and brother-in-law came down to claim her.
Well days later she came back and we lived together in the date trees. She shoulda been named truly Shalom
since shalom means peace if ya didn’t already know.
We traveled to Jerusalem one time for Passover, so she could visit her family.
Having arrived in the evening we proceeded to a hotel outside the Jaffa Gate of the old city. After checking in and
a long bus ride we went into the old city to buy some food and drink.
Well it was early evening and just getting dark as we approached our hotel when these two Arabs approached us
and starting to give me shit. I put my back against the wall and backed her up to the door and told her to go up to
the room. With her safely out of harms way it was just me and these two thieves. I saw this as the time to set this
shit right. Handing Tuley the bag of goodies, I taken two bottles of 7 up out of the bag and faced these two wanna-
be’s and backed up towards the entrance of the hotel. One of the assholes took out a switchblade at which time it
took him to get it out of his pocket I raised the bottles read for a confrontation. With my two bottles over my
shoulder ready to crack them open they just watched and cussed me;
. With my back to the wall I told them to fuck off or bleed. I had to let them know I wasn’t a running from two little
fags.
After hedging them on and them cursing me they finally got the idea that this wasn’t a fucker to fuck with and
backed off.
I thought Tuley might have the clerk call the cops but maybe I got upstairs before the call went through. They must
have figured the same and left. No cops showed up so I guess the call never went through.
Excitement done for evening I didn’t have to replace the 7 up and we ate drank and made love.
The next morning she went home for Passover and left me to my lonesome.
I met some gringos in a tea house and we hung out there for a few hours talking, when one of the two Arab fags
came to our table and started threatening to kill me and cussing me out.
Well the table had benches that could fit about 5 on a side so by the time I got around the table and chased him he
was gone and I wasn’t going to play his game and returned to the tea house.
This Canadian I was talking to at the time of the rude interruption told me about this hotel/ hostile in the old city he
was staying in, it being cheaper and my gal gone for the 8 days of Passover, sounded better than St. Kathrin’s
Monastery in the Old City that I usually stayed in when I was in Jerusalem. That they didn’t have a curfew sure
sounded better and better.
Well there was a group of others too including some girls so that evening we went to a classier tea house on a 2nd
floor in the old city called the Danish Tea House.
Drinking tea listening to music and bullshitting with the crowd was like a totally different atmouphere than sitting
around drinking beer with the Welsh, Scots’, Danes and variety of travelers in Niviot.
After some time I was ready to hit the sack and the Canadian followed me outside along with the rest of the crowd.
Now who would expect that same Arab to be outside awaiting me?
• At the sight of us he came running up at us and seeing a Bruce Lee moving tries giving the Canadian what
was a weak flying drop kick. My thinking he was coming at me stepped aside preparing myself for the attack but
he hit the Canadian and then proceeded to run away. It was a lame try since he came straight legged instead of
kicking while in the air and I thwarted most of his force with my arm. He was lucky enough to keep on his feet
because the Canadian and I proceeded to chase after him towards a dark tunnel in the old city.
I told him not to chase any further because he was armed and might have someone hiding at the end of the dark
tunnel waiting to help him.
Now this being a third time I had encountered this coward, I was getting serious about watching my back.
Being 6’2” in good shape I don’t have a clue as to why this little Arab about 5’8” would mess with me or other
tourists. If he was a wanna be terrorist he was gonna get a lesson from Bklyn dude sooner or later.
My days were spent walking in the market in the old City and around Jerusalem.
One night as I was walking through the old city, passing through a tunnel I see the Arab approaching so I stop back
up against the wall and slowly walk towards the end he was about to enter.
Stepping out into the light just as he was about to enter, ready to run and jump his sorry ass, he had the nerve, not
that he had many choices cause he was going down, he offered me his hand in greeting saying :how are you my
good friend”. At that point I took his hand and gripped it and turned around quickly and took his arm over my
shoulder and tossed the fucker holding onto his arm and listening to it snap.
I put my knee on his chest and took his knife out of his back pocket and told him I’d be outta Israel before he was
going to use that arm again, then kicked him in the face for good measure and went on my way..
I don’t like fighting but I love less having to look over my shoulder and now had things in order for a few months.
Well feeling safer in the old city I proceeded to the Danish Tea house where I met up with the group.
After telling the story I was given a toast to my success of getting rid of that asshole for a while.
Later that night when I left the Canadian and I went back with me to the hotel. A few minutes later he came to my
room and offered me some hash. Ok after the encounter with the Arab I guessed I could smoke some hash and
chill.
He took some shit out of a Marlboro box and proceeded to make a joint mixing some shit with tobacco and putting
it into the empty tube of a cigarette. That was how up you rolled a joint with hash in that part of the world.
But little that I knew, it was opium not hash. He was on a mission of getting hooked on opium. He was on a mission
from his Algerian junkie friend who was cooking opium and shooting it, and of course a dealer. After a while he
left and I went off into the opium dreams (visions) until I noticed that I stopped breathing.
Listening to your breaths, each and every one and the sounds of the Old City at night, my breathing getting longer
and longer in between the next and listening to the breaths getting shorter till you stop breathing and becoming
aware that you stopped, can make you go to sleep forever or make you aware that if you don’t breath you are
going to bliss and die.
I recovered enough to force myself to start to breath again and after it came to me I was going into a final bliss of
sleep forever. With every painful breath or so it felt I finally had the mind to start moving. I got up drank water and
paced the room till the early morning hours since no smart tourist would wander the old city by himself.
Realizing how close I came to bliss I finally went out to walk it off at sunrise.
After I realized that they were trying to get me hooked on opium and crashing big time I got pissed off and went to
the asshole in the dormitory (hostile part) and didn’t bother to wake him up but just kicked the shit out of him in
bed and left. Packed my shit and headed out of Jerusalem. And who do I meet in the street on my way to the bus
station? None other than this Algerian morphine addict who asks me how did it go last night.
Well I crashed for a day or two recovering from the OD and decided to visit my uncle in the Tel-Aviv area.
I arrived at the bus station in Tel-Aviv and decided to call him and tell him I was in Tel Aviv and he asks who I am
and I tell him I was his nephew he proceeds to tell him exactly where I am and I proceed to tell him I was at the
central bus station. He says “stay right there and I will come pick me up”.
Ok, now here I am getting all this attention from my uncle whose wife my aunt, wasn’t sure whether or not to like
me.
She, not being right of mind since the death of my little cousin Paul. And not being sure she was ever in a right
mind since the way the family always treated her. Now here arrives my uncle, goes all out to pick me up at the bus
station?
Well as it happened, I being on my own now for 3 years, and having not hearing from me for many a months were
asked by my parents about what the fuck I was doing. They having no clue, called the authorities to see if they
could locate me.
Well unless I was in jail or dead how the fuck they know where I was?
Well me having a different last name as my uncle, he gave info that I have no clue as to how but gave my
grandfathers name. Being as it may the police found a person with that name. DOA in Elat, the place I was headed
to the last time he saw me.
So as I had arrived to Tel Aviv and my uncle, on the way to identify the body with the family, came to recover me
at the bus station, happy as shit he doesn’t have to tell my parents that I was dead. I was glad to hear that too
having all that fun in Jerusalem and still in a funk’
I do survive and so far outlasted most of them all.
In the Jewish religion you sit Shiva for the dead and you cover all mirrors in the house, so when I got their house I
saw the mirrors were still covered, then uncovered as we walked in. (sitting Shiva is like respecting the dead and
carries on for 10 days).
So I saved them form not having to see a dead body or sitting Shiva for 10 days and the telephone call to the
Rotten Apple to tell my folks the bad news.
I haven’t changed much in all these years cause I get on the road and ya might not hear from me for a year or two.
Cause I am lost and lonely and I can’t find my way home.
I can’t explain but I feel I am all alone so why the fuck do I need to give a/report to anyone wherever the fuck I am.
I think my mind is healthier cause my motto now is definitely more optimistic than when I left NY in 88.
When I left NY my motto was “Ask me if I care”.
Now my motto is: If you ask me where I live? My answer is wherever the fuck I wanna live. Ask me what I do? and
my reply is, whatever the fuck I wanna do. Now ask me why? Ans: because I can!
Anyway so I was being mourned, thought dead and they were on the way to identify my body.
And here I call out of the blue. Saying to them they won’t have to call my parents and telling them I was dead.
Well saving my family that was all fucked up anyway. I stayed there till my Tuley joined me and after a few days
went back to Niviot in the Sinai, snorkeling every day, diving on some, fishing, boating and walking the beach for
the next few months.
I think she would have made a good wife or partner but I wasn’t ready to take on a wife. There was just something
missing, so I was on my way, a couple months later.
The boat trip to Cyprus that never came to pass
Well as the months went by I guess I was ready to travel some more since my Frisbee friends were going to the
orient, via Cypress by boat then to Turkey, and I ain’t sure cause I never made the boat…….. I made some
enemies in Jerusalem as I described before (not the last time) and got in a Monopoly game….. Go to jail, do not get
to Cypress and don’t collect my 200 bucks.
Well I feel important now that I come to think of it, cause I got busted by the head Norco his assistant, a female
agent and an American Interpol agent.
The forces clambered down on me and after being held five days, one day over what their law prescribes (treated
like a terrorist?) I had my day in court. After having the charges translated to me of having been busted for
possession of 1/8th of a milligram of either hashish or grass with the intention to smuggle drugs out of the country.
In the five days in jail we went to bkfst, lunch and dinner. Outside the cafeteria was a courtyard and we were
allowed to walk around the walled in area.
On the fourth day I was taken to the courthouse basement with about 10 other prisoners and sat and waited my
turn.
I sat and sat awaiting my great time (first time) in criminal court not knowing what I was in for.
Well I saw the expressions of those returned to the holding cell and I didn’t notice any celebrations and it seemed
as I was to be last.
It turned out that the guards came back and cuffed us again and ignored my stating that I didn’t have my day in
court.
They just piled us into the Paddy-wagon and we were off back to jail.
Sitting there in my confused state of mind one of the prisoners starts slamming the back of his head into the side
of the van till he cracked it open.
The story told to me was that he was one of elite police officers of Israel and a Sgt. At that and got sentenced to
twenty years for robbery.
Ok, or not OK I get thrown back in my cell and the guards ignored my inquires as to why I didn’t have my day in
court and why I was being held a fifth day (as they I was told could only hold ya 4 day till charged or have to
release ya) got really funked out.
At that point things seemed to go from bad to worse in my mind.
I was lost and feeling like I was going to find my way home, that being prison.
You (or at least I did) lose track of time in jail so I don’t remember what time I got back from court but decided this
was gonna suck so I started a hunger strike and decided not to sit in the cafeteria but pace the fifty meter
courtyard.
Dwelling in my misery and giving up on seeing freedom in the near future just walked the square till going back to
my cell.
I repeated the same the next morning and returned to my cell when finally they took me back out to the van and to
court.
No lawyer, since they don’t assist you in hiring one and threatened my Uncle to deport him if he assisted me in
thwarting this huge bust of the decade.
Even though I had almost 2,000 bucks when busted, I couldn’t seem to get a lawyer.
I, sitting in the courtroom with just my uncle there and spectators, awaiting to see my head chopped off, as my
uncle proceeded to read a letter my mother had written unbeknownst to her that I was in Jail.
My uncle served me well as to stating that my mother was on her way to Europe with my father to meet a
planeload of Freed Russian Jews and then Israel to deliver the suckers that could get out of one police state for
another.
He also told the court that my mother was dying of cancer and anything else to get me off the hook. Since he
spoke in Hebrew I missed most of it.
I had pleaded not guilty to possession, to the capital crime of possession of 1/8th of a milligram of hash or
marijuana, (damn I could have been an exporter of all that resin they surgically scraped outta a bowl of pipe that
was stem less. I am clueless as how it wound up in my back pack since I hardly ever smoked in all my time in
Israel and when I did it was with others and their setup.
Grand slam they got that big drug dealer.
Well as it so happened, the elevator operator/guard that was taking me back down to the dungeon told me that if I
pleaded guilty I would probably receive the mercy of the court.
Lest be known I listened to someone’s advice and the understanding judge convicted me of that great offence and
fined me @ 70 bucks and 3 yrs probation.
Ok I got the 70 bucks, and two thousand more, get me outta here.
Now they sent me back to abookabia or however ya spell the name of that jail, till the fine was paid. They put me
in a new cell with 10 Arabs and only 10 beds, me being the 11th I guessed I didn’t have a place to sit. Luckily I was
on the road to freedom and wouldn’t have to spend the night. Well I stood till I was let out.
They were a very experienced group of Arabs and proceeded to use newspaper to heat up a coffee can of water
and make themselves hot coffee.
Freedom, my next adventure
All I remember after that was getting a beer, calling a travel agent and booking the next fuckin plane outta there.
I went back to my uncle’s place where I got;; busted and got my shit, took a long hot shower and the next thing
that I remember is being at the airport and flying to Italy but somehow it stopped in Greece. Now I asked for next
and the cheapest plane fare out of Israel but I was booked to Rome. Go figure. On the plane I met this dude who
offered me a tour or Athens. Well this was the early 70’s so how can I say no? I was a free man again
We got off the plane then to the tarmac and he gets greeted by these people picking up our luggage and the next
thing I know I’m in a limo.
Well he didn’t turn out gay which I never thought about till this day being in the 21st century, reminiscing and had
a good time checking shit out.
Now I return to the airport and get back to the plane on my way to Italy.
Arriving in Rome int. airport only to encounter an Italian labor strike I managed to find my way to the city. Who the
fuck was on strike? I don’t remember cause every day I was there it seemed that someone was on strike.
Well I don’t remember much of Rome other than museums, churches and pensions’ cause it didn’t have much to
offer me since I wasn’t into the night life at that time. Those fools crucified Christ, had a Mussolini and shit pizza,
(fuckin B’klyn pizza rules) a bunch of fountains and water that can make ya sick.
Time to get outta spaghetti0’s where they put a bottle of bubbly water on your table and if ya drink it they charge
ya.
After a few days I get on the road to Florence which I don’t remember squat about other than more churches and
museums and get on a Train to Venice.
On the train I meet these 2 girls that are tired of getting goosed by all these obnoxious Italians as they described
them. (Remember I grew up in B’klyn and these are just names we used as a description of ethnicity and I don’t
remember ever being called a kike, just a Jew).
So we get a hotel room together and head out to see the nights of Veins,
There we find out that there is some kind of festivities that night in the center of the city and everyone was on the
way to Marco Square.
Well somehow we figured that the boats going down (or up) the canals was where the festivities were at, so the
first boat passing the bridge we were on I stuck out my thumb and believe it or not the first boat passing by
stopped and took us to the center of the Fest. (Hanging with 2 American gals musta had some effect).
We watched the fireworks display from the boat in the middle of the waters. With all the churches surrounding the
water having flares alight in a red glow in their towers and facades, reflecting on the water and fireworks galore it
was very entertaining night.
They gave me a great greeting in Venice.
The next days were passed going to more museums, art galleries and churches.
After I walked my feet off acting the tourist and I guess they weren’t anything like my Chilean bombshell I was off
to Austria.
Since I didn’t tell ya what my uncles’ reply was to my parents when I was in jail it’s because I have no clue. I guess
I should have asked but he did tell me of my folk’s plans and what they wrote.
But I was told that my folks were going to be in Vienna Austria, and that she was off on one of my fathers “el hijo
de puta” expeditions of getting a bunch of Russians outta mother Russia.
It would be too much of a burden to explain what the hijo de puta was trying to do for his fellow Jews other than he
had told me at one point that he wound up in Russia after he was liberated from the nazis (shit I ain’t gonna give
them nazis a capital n cause then I’d have a bigger target to shoot at and people and their families to hunt).
Oh by the way I never told ya I’m the master fucker or at least I have come to consider myself as such when
someone fucks with my friends or myself.
Well my folks were on this trip to meet this group of Russian Jews immigrating to Israel. Guess they got tired of
black bread (which is what I ate when I was in Elat, with yogurt, every time I went on my shopping adventure at
the supermarket, on my trips there. Ha ha, ya can even eat better than a Ruskie even in the desert in Israel).
Nonetheless I met them in the Vienna Intercontinental Hotel, not so long after being living in the Sinai and then in
jail.
Well I get to see mom again, and it being such a long time, I go soft like a puppy just happy to be close and feeling
the protection from the harsh world I had been living in ever since ?????
How can someone turn this hardened criminal, into mush?
I guess only mom can do it.
Well one way was they had this buffet set up in the dinning room of the Intercontinental. I had 3 of the best fuckin
meals, and I mean meals with 3 deserts since my mom served me my last dinner just before I left the rotten apple.
Mom made me all my favorites, potato dumplings sautéed with onions, steak and I’m sure there was some
veggies there too. And probably her apple bread pudding for desert.
At that time I just came up to see her before my father would come home from work. Since we weren’t still talking
at the time I wanted to be gone before he got there to give me indigestion.
The meal was a fantastic treat since it had been over a year that I had been to that condo I had been thrown out of.
Here I am in Austria, Vienna having my next meal with my mother at the Intercontinental 5 star restaurant. and
another superb one at that, (my mothers was better ******’s). Nobody can cook better than mom when she put
together that meal with luv.
All you needed to do at the Intercontinental was needed to point at what you wanted and they put it on a plate and
a slave brought you your choice of meats, veggies and your desires to your table, which I returned for two more
choices of full dishes and after three deserts.
Well after jail, and jail in Israel had pretty good food, considering it was free and healthy Much better than the
mystery meat sandwiches they tossed to us in the Dade County Jail years later.
At least the meals that I ate before going on a hunger strike at which time all ya eat is saliva. A tasteless non-
nutritious meal.
Now I be sitting with no one but my mom, having 3 fuckin deserts to go with the 3 meals I had because everyone
left but not me and my mom, I guess they finished their one dish and desert a little faster than it took me to down
mine.
What a memory, my mom always being there and me, appreciating her company and my being totally lost in the
world, and my knowing she was to be living her last months of life with no hope from cancer
The next day just me and my mom walked the streets of Vienna, stopped for bkfst while she was telling me about
her trip to Vienna as a child with her father before the WAR.
The most she ever told me about her family in all the 22 yrs. I knew her was that she had five brothers and sisters,
They had servants and her father invented the knitting loom to knit lace.
They lived on an estate in Poland till the nazis came and killed her whole family.
She never did tell me how she survived and I guess I was always afraid to find out, so I just never asked, that
knowledge fearful of being to painful for me to know.
Well after our stroll we went back to the hotel me telling my mom of my next plans of travel.
They weren’t set but it was sort of a plan.
That plan was to continue my adventure to the orient with a side trip to Poland to see my historic home of my
ancestors. At that point my mom stopped me and begged me never to go to Commie Poland (not in those words).
She made me promise not to go.
The softened felon that I became after incarceration promised I wouldn’t, which would change my direction from
east to west.
Later I learned that at the time, Poland was offering the families the option of reclaiming the confiscated properties
by the nazis And she fearing for me didn’t want me to become a Pole nor a Commie, and by this action: first: she
may never see me again because I wouldn’t be able to leave. Second: I was a Jew and not thought worthy of
kicking some Poles off their land and wind up in hostile environment and the risk I might not survive that
adventure.
Well I never looked further into what I was told by my sister since I made my mother a promise and since I had
buried her at the time I got that information I couldn’t petition her to let me break that promise, so I let it be her
wisdom that altered my destiny.
Wise or not, there are falks in the road in life and if you lucky u get the opportunity to go down the longest road or
fall off the earth.
Ok so here I be, in Europe hanging out till mom and pop get here and hitching on the auto-ban (that no speed limit
highway).
I get picked up by these freaks one driving a porche and the other a Mercedes which I get into, doing 120 + and not
kph but mph. And hardly slowing down for 90 degree left turns, leaving burning rubber behind.
Well I just be Traveling cause I’m moving through this fuckin European place, that ain’t got much to offer me other
than being solid ground and no fuckin prison bars, at least not yet.
Passing through Innsbruck, Salzburg and some other towns I am on the road again. It being June or July I could
only go up the ski slopes by foot but the Alps looked pretty cool. And the villages or towns looked probably the
same as they had in the last few centuries.
Always a pub and that was where I found myself every night after a day of hiking.
There were a few barmaids that kept me company at times but my opinion so far of what I seen in Austria, Swiss.
And Germany was that Europe had a lot of history, hasn’t gotten over it and was like a condensed USA.
I spent one night in a barn, guess I was trespassing but nobody bothered me.
One day I was hitching and got a ride from a farmer heading east through Switzerland and he stopped on his farm
and introduced me to his family and 3 legged deer and lugging out a jug of milk from the barn had to have me taste
the milk just out the cows tit.
He wasn’t as all that hospital as to offer me his wife’s.
Back on the highway/Autobahn.
One night I wind up at this rest stop and meet up with this German dude and we decide to set up our tents in the
rest stop.
Now all set for the evening we go outside after buying some food from the vending machines and he lights up a
bowl of hash.
It had been months since I smoked and he had his cassette player on to pink Floyd.
After a few hits of the pipe I laid back and wham! I was on a hallucinogenic high.
I was having a relapse of opium high and got paranoid.
I proceeded to pack up and hit the Autobahn in the darkness.
I walked back to the autobahn and started hitching again. Then it started raining and stoned as I was got my
poncho out and squatted against the guard rail where I fell asleep squatting with pack still on and poncho covered,
till dawn.
So I wind up in Munchin or Munich whatever ya want to call it. I find a room and got to take a nice long hot shower
till I hear knocking on the floor telling me I was using too much hot water. Well being a NY’er I had never heard that
before. Even as cheap as my father was, being after me all my life about leaving on the lights turning the heat
down as to keep me in bed till the house warmed up if I was permitted.
He still came in my room when I stayed in his condo and shut of the TV in the middle of the night if I was asleep,
half of the time waking me up 30 years later.
Tradition, tradition. He being a millionaire worried about a few watts of electricity when he was paying about 50k a
year for upkeep and taxes on his condo.
I still sleep with the TV, radio and light on when I go to sleep. I wonder if it is only spite him.
I pass the Glockenspiel (being this big coo coo clock) in downtown and find myself at the Hoffbreau house, well
now I found home. At least for the evening.
There be these buxom German woman that can carry 5 one liter mugs in each hand and serve ya with no tips
involved. Well that place was interesting, with the um-pah music and turned me on like I wanted my dick to be a
wet noodle thank god cause if these bar maids gave me a hand job they might have taken IT off.
.
Damn what the fuck did Hitler want here? He wanted out, so he figured he should conquer the world, Hmmm…
that’s a lot of real estate. I might give a nickel a meter for Germany. But let it be told I would never stay to collect
rent there.
I guess that’s why my parents left a few years after my sister was born in Mittinvalt, I believe in the black forest.
They went to liberty city or Philly to have me and I was told I was conceived on the ship over.
That story don’t end there cause I got married on a Damn ship (the Stattendam) 27 yrs later and live on a yacht till I
can sell this Damn Yacht.
The next day I went to the brewery but all the seats were full and I lost at muscial chairs (if ya dont get a seat,
about 20 odd seats ya dont get free beer nor nockworst).
Luck run out and.....
Now, here I see why we let that fucking Nazi Hitler have all of Europe cause who fucking cared to live in that
dreary place?
Don’t get me wrong I would have shot that little fucker hittler, the one with the mustache, he don’t deserve a
capital h to his name but I think I woulda shot out his kneecaps first, then each toe and proceed to cut off is limp
dick, shove it in his mouth, if he didn’t die, post his caucus on a staff with the staff up his ass and put him in front
or the Glockenspiel to show him and the other murderers that time wont stop for killers.
Now lets pause here for Neo-nazies, clansman and the rest of the ignorant fools, let them know they make good
targets.
Hey how bout them Arab martyrs they be on my hit list and should be on yours too.
Life is sooooooooo good. Well I ain’t so sure about that statement but death and suffering ain’t the answer. So that
be why I still live.
Off I go to back to the autobahn.
After finding a town somewhere where all of the bored people that were lucky and escaped leaving these poor
Dutch farmers to till the lands I find a small boarding house and get a room.
There was no reason to wander past a restaurant I had seen enough of the country side .So off I go.
I get one ride to the middle of nowhere and continue to hitch to the next destination when my ride stops to pick
me up.
He was wearing a uniform, gun, and knight stick. I wasn’t naked and with 55 lbs on my back I was easily escorted
to the back of the Paddy Wagon (police truck).
Door slams and now I am in the back of a Paddy wagon with about 10 must have been hard criminals.
Hi HO hi ho off to jail I go. Thinking I am now going to have a new profession, building Dikes in Holland.
But I wasn’t so lucky there was to be no schooling on how to build a dike.
The paddy wagon proceeded to where I was clueless.
I found it very inhospitable of the Dutch Gestapo to not offer windows and I didn’t get to see the countryside.
Finally we get to our destination awaiting the barb wire fences, high stone walls and chain and ball and off to the
dungeon. Only to get disappointed again.
Getting the boot they had delivered us to the old part of Amsterdam where they set to prison of bars, hookers and
drug addicts.
That being the punishment without getting the opportunity to plead not guilty to hitching a ride received judgment
without a liar (lawyer) get tossed out with the rest of the hardened criminals into this community of back packers
and degenerates.
I having learned since from some Dutch folks I have met all over the world received the opinion that the reason for
that was because there had been real criminals doing harm hitching on their roads and decided to pick up all of us
hitchhiking vermin off the autobahn and protect their citizens.
So here I wind up in Amsterdam, well shit that place reminded me of the rotten apple (N.Y.) so grey………
It did have some attributes but nowhere I’d choose to live.
I enjoyed the ho’s hanging out in the store shop windows
But I wasn’t buying any.
Finding a room above this pub made it convenient to get back to bed if you can navigate the narrow spiral
staircase after drinking a bunch of Heinekens.
Well when in Rome (drink wine) do what the Romans do. So in Holland unless ya get hung up on a windmill ya
drink Heineken.
I wondered around looking for the woman, unattached pretty looking for free sex with no results and found these 2
Lymies (Britt’s) sitting at this table or maybe they ran into me sitting there first but me never out of words
conversed with them. Figuring out that if they knew where the birds were they wouldn’t be talking to me.
So there was no use asking them for any info in Amster-Damn-where are the girls?
Well they proceed to light up a joint when in walks the police or Bobbies as they are known to these damn fools.
Cops walk over to our table and joint goes flying under the seats and we get pass- ported. Them producing
their Britt passport and me my US had no clue to the diplomatic state of Europe and start to get déjà-vu and i wasn’
t even smoking.
Well we US citizens aren’t on their hate list as of the 70’s so they only they only
took the fool Lymies out and tried to get them to confess to smoking that dangerous weed and left me there all
alone.
Returning a few minutes later they told of their ordeal, that they received a few blows by the cops but they didn’t
give up their criminal actions and receive a summons.
It seems like I always wind up associating with criminals so it was a good think I got outta Israel real fast.
There I was introduced to more criminals ain’t that a crime of the state to introduce me to hundreds of criminals?
Next day it is off to a new Pub or bar whatever you call it and run into this group of Americans on a tour from
Batten- down- your- hatches- Rouge the good ole US.
On top of that they had woman in their company from the tour.
I wound up in bed along again so I must have found no female takers.
Time to get outta Dutch Land
Damn, there’s just gotta be some way outta here……….. So I get on a train to some ferry to cross the English
Channel (I guess the English must have gotten to that part of the world first).
I wind up in England
Ok now I have my first run in with the British law. Not having distinguished the difference between Immigration
and customs for many a year to come traveling, being they all in Uniforms with guns in most cases. So now I start
getting asked all sorts of questions and my eyes must be bulging or something cause all I saw was an Interpol
interview upcoming and my grandest criminal conviction coming up out of some computer somewhere (he he
they were all computer illiterate just like me) and get put back on the ferry and be bounced back and forth on the
north sea till the ferry would go out of business and be sent to some far away country where it would float till it
sank.
Well after some stern looks (as if I didn’t look like your average backpacker, druggy, hippie obnoxious American)
and an expression of “well this your lucky day cause if I fuck with ya now I gonna miss my tea and biscuits, so
fuck of yank and keep outta my hair.
I needed to get on a train to London since I didn’t like much of what I seen from the port that the ferry delivered
me to.
In London I find myself in an underground train station. Well how am I supposed to know which stop to get off
when I cant see where the fuck I was?
I would have been in deep shit if I been a Brit and landed in NY the same way. (I’d hate to be a Lyme tourist and
wind up on the subway in NY and pick a station to get off and find a hotel room).
I should have listened better in school about London cause all I knew of was Carnaby St. and some Castle the
queen lived in.
Maps weren’t in my budget at the time (and I still find it hard to get myself to buy to date when most can be
obtained free).
I cant remember how I found a hostel but I did (now if you need a map to find a pub in London you better not go
out of your neighborhood cause ya might not get back home) which I think of today as a homeless shelter in the
states. But I do remember having to pay.
Having been drinking beer in the Sinie for so long it wasn’t so strange drinking warm beer (or room temperature)
but usually we started off with a cold one following room temperature then warm till hot. But the Brit’s are
consistent so who’s to complain 30+ years later. Especially since people look at me strange when I drink warm
beer today.
What they haven’t figured out is that I learned in my travels that cold beer can cost more in some places (such as
here in Costa Rica when you buy a case of beer). Well when I load a case of warm beer on my scooter 9 outta 10
that ask me for a beer and I tell them it’s warm say “damn how can ya drink warm beer”. Hope they don’t figure it
out but I save a lot by their being so spoiled.
Being the adventure I have been I have learned that if I wanted comfort the rest of my life I woulda never left my
mothers womb.
Fuckin life is give and take. Just start 2 lines on the street one for “I am giving”
The other “I am taking”. What would the results be do ya think.
Well the giving line would be without seeing the last people at the back of the line cause it on the way to a new
County. The next line might hold a few curious people that want you to haul away junk or wives and a few children.
Well backpacking is sacrificing every day till ya quit or settle down cause even if you on just a limited time your
first journey (life is limited only the ticket don’t have an end date & some like Captain Zero just ain’t done quit yet
or settled down and is still here in Puerto Viejo in 2008 living on the beach with his heard of muts and tent).
Well I don’t know if I ever settled down but I sure did stop to buy a 40 ft Yacht, cars, trucks, bikes, boats, wife?, Oh
well how happy I be? On a scale of 1 to 100 I can only answer that I ain’t ready to check out and can still drink
warm beer.
I drift off every time I edit this draft as memory servers me and lessons learned in this passing I call life.
Who knew what was up the road and how many paths lay in front of us.
Life is sure one fucking adventure.
Why the fuck am I writing this shit now for almost a year could be a mystery to me but I’m not sure I am so
mystified as maybe I am entertaining myself.
What else do I have at this stage in my life?
One would be the memory of my youth.
The feeling of wanting to think I have accomplished something.
The knowing that I was always alone except when I was being protected or protecting someone.
The coming to terms of not setting my goals to high.
The comfort of being a good person to my best abilities and conscience which has been taught to me by a fucked
up civilization that still is clueless as to why we are here.
The fact that man is so insecure (woman worse because that the only way society can keep the upper hand on
them) that he lies more to himself than to others by thinking they know what the fuck they are accomplishing but if
they think they do can they answer why?
Maybe life is just a game someone is playing and we are the mice in a maze.
Who cares anyway as long as we don’t suffer.
Why would man make war?
Cause he is paranoid and figures if he controls the masses, he controls his destiny.
Well the best of them leaders you assholes followed are dead or dying and if you think they ever gave a shit about
you or yours you been fooled or labatamitisised.
I believe in one god and that is the dream there has to better or if not this is all a figment of our imaginations. But I
wasn’t born with any Guarantees or warrantees
Shit I can go on and on with this shit so listen to your priests, rabbi’s, ministers or ayatollahs preach to you their
reasons to rule your miserable life or happy one (since happiness is bliss) and you can go on their adventures that
they make up for you.
This is my shit and I didn’t listen to them damnd fools so you can burn this, read it or if printed this shit I wrote you
can always use it as toilet paper, rolling paper, ask me if I give a fuck.
•
•
Back to England.
Here I be in some part of London but at least they speak English in a funny dialect that I being a world traveler by
now was able to interpret with an English/ English-American pictionary.
I found a youth hostile somehow.
There being no one to knock on the cieling cause I used too much hot water, cause there wasn’t any. So fast
showers is what was to be.
Now when in Rome (u must have a clue to my rules by now).
I went out and found a pub. Guinness (warm) in hand, I disguise myself as a
Lyme.
(Having lived in the Sinai for many a months with 140 degree temperatures you got maybe two swills before your
beer was warm and by five, hot).
At 10 pm I noticed that they started to roll in the carpets in that part of town.
So much for a night out on town.
Up early I made my pans for the day.
Time for a map.
I locate Carnaby St. and off I go getting on a double Decker bus to down town or what I assumed was down town..
I found Carnaby St. and proceeded to window shop. I wasn’t going to buy a window or nothing else to put in my
pack so I guess I was more like browsing.
Looking for the Beetles and the Rolling stones I was greatly disappointed.
How about Abby Road could I find anyone famous there?
Well Carnaby St. was all of nothing compared to the Village and finding a street crossing didn’t seem like much of
an accomplishment so its off looking for kings or queens and dragons (or in Drag).
Time to go looking for the Queen.
After walking all around Buckingham palace and not getting invited in, I found myself disappointed again. I did see
some pompous guards all around the area so sneaking in without paying admission (if that was possible) appeared
to be out of the question.
Since getting caught I believe would have them tempted to lock me up in the dungeon, that not being on my
itinerary and on my list of not to do’s, I proceeded to hang my head down and find a place to sulk.
No map, dear me which way to head?
Nothing like a pub to sulk in.
I could have bought a derby and walking stick on Carnaby St.
That would have been a very London thing too do and might have gotten me an invite into Buckingham but I wasn’
t going back I had to go forward.
A few brews later and off I go to watch rush hour and check up on the birds, cause there weren’t any in that pub.
You might think I had a one track mind but my life was a lonely one and I was on a mission. That being to give all
the woman of the world the opportunity of my body and company.
Well at least the attractive ones.
Well disappointment must have been written in my Horror – Scope for that day because disguising myself as a
Lyme wasn’t working. Must have been not having a derby.
If I ever return to London I will invest in a derby. Maybe even a walking stick.
Well the joke is on all the rest of the tourists and reputation London has because I spent two weeks in London and
it only drizzled on me once. If I woulda made it to Spain I woulda stayed off the plain.
Well I stayed in them there parts until it was time to eat and waiting for evening action.
Well that was a waste of time cause there wasn’t much action.
Well it didn’t get any better that day. Because when they rolled in the carpets at 11 pm and I went to get a bus back
to the hostel, it was only to find out that the buses stop running about then.
Option 2, take a train right? Wrong the stations were gated closed.
It was hard to believe that a city like London rolled in the carpets at such an early hour.
Long walk back but I persevered, no Jack the rippers that night nor Mr. Jeckle or Mr. Hide’s hiding in the dark
foggy doorways (didn’t see any bloody fog in all the time I was in London either.
Well after I walked off more leather on my boots and running out of money a week or so later it was time to go to
American Express and trade in travelers checks and find a ride back to the rotten apple.
Bonanza! The checks I had bought a year and half in German Marcs for 4 marks to a dollar were now worth 2.5 per
dollar. Which amounted to about a $700 dollar bonus on the 1000 I had held onto. The Germans finaly helped me
out.
In the office I also ran into the group from Batten Rouge. The same people that I had met in Amsterdam in a bar.
Since I was looking for a ticket back to the Rotten apple and further discussing with one of the group, and being he
had a boarding pass to offer me at a great price, from shitland (England) to Batten Rouge Louisiana on their
chartered plane (as you can see England didn’t impress me much).
There was this dude who had broken his leg and had returned home earlier.
My luck was finally changing after so much disappointment in the months I spent in Europe. I made a deal to meet
him at Gatwick Airport a few days later and would pay him $35 if I got on the plane with the boarding pass and
when we get to duty free I would give him a commission of a bottle of whisky since he was negotiating for sorry
leg casted friend and me having the balls to take him down from 50 bucks to 35, the shameless backpacker I was.
Still my thoughts of going back to Europe puts the chances of returning as slim to none.
But shit happened and the chartered jet blew an engine on the take off runway just as we were about to take off.
Having not taken any drugs for the first time while flying, and adrenalin just trickling down after having to go
through the ticket counter where they just looked at my boarding pass and gave me a new one without a name on
it to get through customs. Just sitting and watching us taxi down the runway and the stop, then the roar of the
thrusting engines, no drugs no booze and the fear of flying had me on the edge of my seat when a loud boom
echoed through my ears and the thrusters were cut off and the takeoff didn’t happen.
Thinking of that flight now I realize that if that jet went down in the ocean and never found Nobody would have
known I was 6000 leagues under the sea and I woulda just been one more American just missing without a trace.
(Now that another reason for writing this shit down cause now I have learned what consequences can lay ahead of
us without ever thinking about what can happen if seconds in this mess we call life).
Offloaded from the plane and back into the terminal we just hung out and broke out the whisky and waited……..
and waited for Info. Finally (after hours) we were told that the engine wont get here for another day (or
replacement jet cant remember which).
Giving us new boarding passes without names we were bussed off to a hotel for the duration.
Thank me (me being god), I got to stay in the Gatwick Piccadilly Hotel with a TV in the room, 3 square meals and
the opportunity to steal an ashtray gold trimmed, that said Gatwick Piccadilly in gold leaf, I assume (being stamped
Rosenthal on the bottom) and a crystal beer mug. My Mother having a full set of Rosenthal China in her China
cabinet that she wouldn’t even let anyone help her wash the dishes when we had the big family dinners at my
house would be impressed with the ashtray I absconded with (as long as I didn’t mention how I obtained it, but I
doubt she didn’t figure out that I didn’t pay for it). But I had learnt from her past escapades when we stayed in
fancy hotels that if she encountered an ashtray or article in her room that she really liked she would ask the clerk
at check out if she could buy it and in her so tactful request, that nobody would have the balls to take her money
or say no to her request.
That was never acting on her part, which was the real way she was. I don’t know how much of her great
personality rubbed off on me but I didn’t get my conscience from my fathers’ selfish actions I have witnessed.
Nobody in my 50+ years has left much of an impression on me as she did and don’t expect anyone I will ever
encounter will.
If there is any goodness in me it is all my mothers’ upbringing.
I wasn’t in any rush to leave anyway it was just getting the ticket so cheap that led me to return to the US of A and
that I was bored of that fuckin continent.
Back in the USA
Let me tell ya how I landed in the rotten apple again. The next day a new engine installed we boarded the plane
and were informed that the route was to be changed since the crew had been on duty for all they could (law
provided) and they rescheduled the flight. So we landed in some butfuck air port in Southern Pennsylvania. Ok
back to history I was born in Philly, so says my birth certificate. I probably should have stayed and waited to keep
on going to Batten Rouge but the fucker who’s boarding pass I bought for a lousy 35 bucks had his friend bring
back his luggage on the plane. (The fucker who had broken his leg and was shipped back to the USA) Well déjà-vu,
it time to detour left.
How it happened was they busted a friend or foe of his for a hash pipe in his luggage when he was secretly
exposed by suspecting eyes of trying to throw it out in a trash can when he saw it on inspection. It looked like
giant vultures attacked a 50 gallon trashcan full of fresh bloody meat as the cops came outta the woodwork
surrounding the can , searching for the evidence of a suspected drug smuggler. (Well if ya don’t know, in this
luxurious land of ours when a plane lands from overseas it has to disembark [a fancy way of saying get the fuck
off] all passengers and crew and pass through customs). Well with little time to debate weather to continue to
Batten Rouge, having cleared customs myself just thinking of a plan for my future seeing his classmates there to
try and help him explain his way out of a midnight express nightmare I exited and headed for the highway.
Being a stow-a-way on a smugglers boarding pass with a criminal conviction listed with Interpol and such I didn’t
have the curiosity to find out the results or say thanks for the lift and hospitality for my adventure outta Shitland.
I still wonder what happened to the sucker who was kind enough to bring his shit home to him and offer me the
great opportunity of almost landing in prison (had I had helped with the luggage and stayed on line with him.
Well I saved about 200 bucks a luxurious day at the Piccadilly and 3 square meals on his bad luck. I didn’t need to
implicate him in what I don’t know if it is a crime or not to sell someone’s boarding pass but sure as shit with one
look at my criminal record if interrogated I sure as shit wasn’t going on that jet to Batten Rouge. Telling myself I
gotta get the fuck off this trip.
The door out to the street looked heavy as gates but were electric and opened to freedom, Back in the USA, well
being that the stories and interviews were going on as I breathed the air of PA and with quick thinking I got in a cab
and told the driver to take me to town. I had to make distance had I have come up in the smuggler confession.
Had things gone different my whole life might have been different.
Contemplating proceeding to Batten Rouge and head off to Cali-fool-ya where I initially started out for, when that
first illegal ticket came to me to bring me to new continents and a world of experiences and still couldn’t find my
way home.
Well the divine destiny of life gave me a new direction. Home to mama and time to make a new plan.
Old plan just took me on a trip and adventure but I still didn’t have a home nor reach Cali. Maybe I never wanted to
have one and just be a wanderer.
Somehow I found the highway and headed to the Rotten Apple.
Maybe it was to see my mom and let her see that I was still intact. Maybe I missed my niece and nephew and all
that family shit I never felt other than with my mom until my niece and nephew came along.
Had the plane gone direct to Batten Rouge LA. I might have gone to Cali-fool-ya but if ya read on who knows
where I woulda wound up because my next attempt to go there got diverted too.
So I be back on the road again hitching a ride to the Rotten Apple.
Back in the rotten Apple
Here after hitching down the road outta butfuck PA. I get to where my parents live. They are living there
(Remember I cant find my way home).
Well memory lapses a little but I wind up living with my folks again in this condo in fuckin Yonkers NY.
I get to meet these neighbors, one a hard ass old-man, another (think he was gay) poor shmuck (poor was cause
he was a loser).
Me being the poor one, I meet up with this couple Bob & Fern and my wife to be. What a community.
Well Fern, being a med student and Bob being in the diamond business gets me a job in the family buz.
Ok right I slept on the fuckin autobahn, in date trees under the stars, in a fuckin desert where I tasted sand with
every meal for months and ya ain’t seen nothing till ya see, feel and breath a sandstorm.
Somehow me and my father tolerated each other and I got my old bedroom back but having to share it being it
was now his office.
I had lived there for a whole two months before he threw me out a few years ago.
Well I don’t remember my plans or believe I was just stopping in to visit and move on but I was thinking of work
for a while before I left and get some more of that capitalist food stocked up before I moved on to my next
adventure.
Somehow an offer came from Bob as to working for his family business.
Now here I am working on 47th St. in the Diamond District and I mean “The Diamond District”.
The diamond district.
Now I be riding up the elevator with these smelly Hasidim Jews and proceeded going into this office with doors
that ya enter, then have to wait for the first door to close and lock to receive admission to get past the 2nd door to
gain entrance to the reception office. Right, I be on one of the best policed street in the world with security just
about everywhere.
I had interviews before but always as an insider except when I was a cashier at a supermarket. The only reason I
took that job was to get close to this twirler in HS.
So now I get to sit with these three brothers (Bob’s father the boss and his brothers) Sternly looking at me and
giving me the 3rd degree. (They forgot to ask me about previous convictions).
Well I wasn’t intimidated or ill at ease because I didn’t have a clue as to what I was being hired to do.
Well I past mustard and was invited into the secret sanction of the family business and had to agree not to anyone
what I saw, knew or learnt in this secret sanction of improving the quality of the flaws that nature left behind that
diffracted light and the brilliance of the hardest element on this planet. (So I been told)
In all the time I was there nobody but family passed the reception office into the domain of the secret lab of
removing flaws but me. So I had a new family, which gave me new cousins.
I was taken to a desk in one of the offices and told the beginning process of enhancing the brilliance of a diamond.
Back then I was told we were the only ones who had the equipment and knowledge to do what we were doing
other than their Brussels and Israeli offices.
They must have been desperate to hire me or maybe it was my aura of personality that got me into those inner
sanctions or the business.
Now 35 years later I don’t think it is a secret any longer but I do feel I earned my own respect in never being
tempted to steal any of those rocks.
Besides We never handled a perfect diamond in the inner offices.
There was this back room where we sparked and soaked the diamonds that had been drilled and had probably
never been cleaned other than the counters.
Since I spent the most time in and out of that room I decided it needed a sweeping.
When I suggested it I was told to hold off, which is what I did.
Next day one of Bobs uncles came to me with a broom and dust pan and handing it to me (oy vey as they say in
Yiddish I was elected to do the job).
Well with my watchman doing what a watchman does best who don’t see worth a shit did his job and watched me
clean the room.
As it turned out I encountered a number of lost stones in the years of dust I sifted through and handed them over
with no haste.
I guess after that I earned the trust of everyone in the family and I wasn’t watched so closely anymore. At least not
to my knowledge. Getting a good salary from the start there were benefits to keep me from being greedy.
One of which was, I was offered a loan for a new car.
Now never ever contemplating buying a new car for a long time was like thunder striking my whole future.
What avenues we take in our thoughts are a wonder how the mind works.
There being no one I could discuss any of what went through my mind or at least considered, put my mind in
turmoil.
So to figure out why I was to do what I was to do is just how my thought process malfunctions. And for this I can
never see creating a computer that can think or do more than compute.
Back to the beginning of the job as wire tech.
Here is where I get a good laugh. This was to be what I spent months doing.
I’m sticking wires into diamonds. Ok, sounds weird but it served a purpose. But lets back up, I had a desk, got a
couple loops (loopty-do) if ya don’t know what a loop is, well look it up. I could say I was a laser tech bum with a
desk full of diamonds.
Well the wire was 1000th of an inch diameter and the hole about 500th , The wire was made of platinum and with
tweezers I was sticking pieces of wire in the holes to clean out the holes we drilled in the diamonds. Ok I ain’t
gonna tell ya the formula for taking out imperfections of diamonds but just giving ya history as to what helped
make me the #1 asshole I be.
Eventually I graduated to be a (laser tech?) I was drilling the fuckin diamonds.
But still had to stick the fucking platinum wire in the holes when they were ready to get sparked by an electric
sparker.
So here I am a tech. sticking sometimes as many as 10 wires, tweezers and loop in hand on the surface of maybe
a 1 carat diamond.
I had a desk full of diamonds with holes (LMAO), well that shit got old so here we are again back on the road to
Caly-form-ya.
See one day I woke up and I knew I was going nowhere in the direction of being what I turned out to be. So my
state of mind was do I buy a Fiat spider that I was waiting for until I saw the new Dotson 240Z that just came out
and get myself into the responsibility of a loan………….. Shit there was that big word RESPONSABILITY.
My mind took off into all kinds of hallucinogenic thoughts as to motives of why I was so lucky to get funded to a
new car.
My mother would take nothing from me. What the fuck was I doing and where would it get me. Was I weaving
myself into a web of obligations?
Was I joining the establishment of the working class?
Well after my mom refused to let me give her my money to buy a Mink Coat that she was begging my father for,
what use was I?
Should I have just gone and bought it for her and stuck my self in the Datzon 240Z and NY the Rotten Apple?
I had graduated from being a rich kid that got whatever he desired to a ?????
Well standing by and watching your mom die from cancer and not being able to do anything at all aint fun and it
don’t help that she wouldn’t let me do anything.
Did I just cop out or did I just make it easier for her to not have me around to watch her suffer?
Do I still carry guilt as to my actions in my 22 years of life that I just received from that great woman or more for
the compassion she gave me and the RESPOSOBILITY she was trying to fulfill to her son’s happiness.
I will never know nor will I ever forget what she did for me in all those years.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
_______________________________
I gave up the Datzon 240Z that Bob’s father was gonna loan me the money to buy.
If I took the loan I would get stuck sticking wires in diamonds and drilling holes for who knows how many years.
Paranoia set in. I had to get outta dodge and even my mother wouldn’t take my money from me.
Well she always wanted a mink coat and I offered her all of my almost $2,000+ bucks I saved but she wouldn’t take
it at that point and now I had more money.
I had overstayed my welcome (never with my Mom).
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
____
So off I went.
I packed my Boy Scout knapsack once again and hit the road again.
Nothing much must had happened between the rotten apple (NY) and Georgia cause I only remember hitching
down the I till we turned off to Georgia at some point after a few rides.
I arrived in Atlanta GA. Searched around town until I found the bus terminal and found a locker in the Grey Hound
bus station and put my pack in a locker and went to take a piss. Not much of a mission right?
Well every fucking dealer had an office in that station. Atlanta was the pharmacy of the south. Funny that my ex is
living in Atlanta now, 34 yrs later.
I escaped temptation and saved my money and walked out into the dangerous streets of Atlanta, where I
encountered a cop, feeling safe? I asked where can I find a bar to hang out in and his response was so sincere to
this day I feel sorry for this world I was brought into.
Basically he told me where not to go. One was a nigger bar (those were his words) the other was a red-neck bar (I
looked like a hippy I guess) and I don’t remember what the 3rd place he pointed me towards was, so I got on a bus
to New Orleans the next day.
Well I coulda stayed on that plane to Batten Rouge from England and not have to give up my eyesight to the loop
and holes in diamonds and give up that 240Z. But here I am in a YMCA hotel in Grant Circle (if it wasn’t Grant it
musta been Lee, guess I got a deserved C in history) but I got some good basketball games there while I stayed
there. But as going out in the forbidden land of N.O., shit they carded me, Here I am 21+ and they made me go
back to get my ID and it was only 18 to drink, the legal age in the times of the dinosaurs, well fuck them.
I went back to the civil war circle “Y” and got my passport to match my NYS drivers license that said I was 5’8”
when I was 15 and NY being slow on updating shit on a license other than driver infractions. In 6 yrs and spending
½ of a day every so often waiting on line to renew the license you are privileged to receive, Being just a peace of
paper that says maybe you know how to drive as bad as everyone else. So I produced my documents and got to
get into some sleazy bars.
Somewhere I ran into this kangaroo (Australian) and left the misfits of N.O to themselves. We were both heading
south or at least west.
Hooking up with a travel companion was cheaper and safer in some ways.
We got to Huston TX somehow hitching, well that place sucked so we left the next day and headed south
to…………and wound up in Austin TX (remember when you are hitching you never know how far or even if you get
out of town you gonna end up). I think Austin was in my destiny because I would get there a few times in the
future.
We hung out there for a while meeting a bunch of woman and me meeting a Cherokee Indian.
I never forgot how beautiful and serious the oppressed can be.
Why do I get impacted by the oppressed? Look at my marriage and the rest of my story and maybe you can figure
it out if I haven’t.
The weather is changing from what was nice and moderate and now it’s getting cold (like snow flurries) and I
think this was too fuckin cold and this Roo from the land down under was heading to Mexico, so well what the
fuck Cali-form-ya can wait to heat up, so off on the road we go to taco land, tortilla territory.
We get a ride on some fucking road in TX and waiting for the next ride watching the flurries skirt the black top,
when what do ya know? There are 3 big (remember I’m 6’2”) black dudes that stopped to offer us white boys a ride
and proceeded to open the trunk of something like a big ass Olds. There we are about to put our back packs
amongst this color TV and 3 shotguns.
I need not tell ya that they didn’t kill or rob us or that would be another chapter or two here,
Well they were real nice, since they didn’t shoot us and gave us a ride, so all I got to add to this shit is I don’t judge
peep’s cause of color or accent cause bad and good come in all forms colors and genders.
My motto is “that I love all flavors of woman”. But men got their place and they better kept there cause they ain’t
got tits. They didn’t offer us collard greens or chitins’ so we never got to find out what made them so big, but big
they seemed especially knowing the guns in the trunk.
Guess they sized us up and figured our cloths were too small for their kids.
Well we bare the cold and arrive at the Alamo town in TX San Antonio where I needed to stand my grounds, lock
and load for what would be in my future voyage, unto the land of the adversaries “The Mexican’s”. of whom we
stole their land and now their people we smuggle into the good ole US of A, which we pay little but more than their
own brethren.
Well if ya like kick dancing and a dance partner that likes hitting ya in the Adams apple with her cow girl hat and
get hit in the back of the head by some dude with another cow pokers hat behind ya it the place for you, not me.
(Get too close and get hated, but guess that better than a gun in your face in the rotten apple). I shoulda bought
that derby in London, the steel brimmed one. (Or was that a bowler)?
Well I woke up another day and knew I was gone.
Well I ain’t sure why Sam Houston and Dave Bowie and the rest the gang stayed to fight at that location for but that
town wasn’t for me. (Know that I got a C in history in HS so if I get the wrong peeps names mixed up, oh well ya
got one on me).
Our next ride was a gringo heading over the border who was wise enough to throw us out berore the crossing into
Mex. He let us do our little jog into the confusion of the new terrain at the border where we were about to enter
into the land with different values, cultures spirits and god (that be me) only knows.
Wise choice he was a nice guy and not a fool, cause who knows what one has in possession of their shit.
As I was later to experience as to Mex. Justice, possession is 9/10th of the law.
And believe me 1/10th don’t do much for ya.
Ok now I’m about to enter Mexico, so I start my Spanish lessons, that what I had learned watching the Lone
Ranger. That took a few minutes, as I pot memory put my vocabulary up to three words.
Well if ya interested, Cali-fool-Ya was a little to the northwest but the heat/sun was south. So south bound I was.
Well it ain’t cool to hitch across borders/customs for either hitcher or passenger.
So me and the Roo from the land down under left our ride and proceeded across the border and wound up it butt f’
k Monterey Mex.
I’d seen enough peasants and churches world wide.
After a walk thru the market that day I was done.. Show me the way to the next whisky bar.
Good nights sleep after ya get your bed mates swatted out of bed and scratch your flea ridden body your up to
the next mornings project and get your ass on the road to the next ride down the dusty road.
We wound up in a small town in some place in North MX. And learnt the next whisky bar was called a “Cantina” in
MX’n. I cant say Spanish cause I was to learn they got lots of names for watering holes including a trough or such
for horses in TX..
We being the only gringos (even Roo’s get called gringos along with all white peeps from north of the Alamo or
other continents).
Sitting and drinking a warm beer. (That describes the size of a town South of the border, we found ourselves wind
up in). Sipping beer with a bunch of peasants with displaying great hospitality and a lot of questions, having us as
new entertainment for the night, they proceeded to invite a couple puta’s (hoes) over to entertain us.
Good thing it was dark cause the one holding onto my dick was just what a plump Chicana probably looked like.
Now I was up to a 6 word vocabulary and pushed cerveza to the top of my vocabulary list. That and not swallowing
the worm in mescal still remains on the bottom of my list as things to do.
There is a long list of things not to do and can only tell ya jail was the #1 thing never to do. But yet I wound up in
Jail in MX. But only to buy a hammock out of an 8” hole they let the prisoners sell them from. But that comes later.
Well don’t worry I didn’t buy the puta other than a beer although it felt good having a hand on my dick and tits in
my face.
I think we wound up next in St. Louis Portase' next or it coulda been the other way around with Monterey 2nd and
St. Louis first but you could have named either of them anything cause at that time they were pueblos to me and
as most of Central America seemed to me at the time. And as MX is, ya just don’t see all that much of a difference
in most of the area other than climates and terrain.
They all have the same small looking towns with a center court in the center of town and a market selling like shit
but nothing as bad as an Arab fly ridden market that I was afraid enough to breath in let alone take the risk of
eating anything they have to offer.
There we get invited to a hacienda for lunch by a very pleasant family and spent the night in a guest house. They
even spoke some English. And we spent a cordial night trying to communicate with our hosts in broken English
using my 6 words of spanglish and drinking whisky which I didn’t have a taste for at that time in my life.
After a large meal and a bottle of whisky which we couldn’t go to bed without finishing off, we went to our rooms
in the guest house, which consisted of just a bedroom, bathroom and a living room.
Only to find out that the servant’s quarter next door had an adjoining door to my room.
I guess I got special room service because the maid came in and joined me in my bed after a little while.
I don’t do details, so I will just say I didn’t throw her out of the bed. Nor did I complain in the morning during bkfst
with our host after having received such nice hospitability and service yet again.
To this day I don’t know if she was sent to my room or just a volunteer.
Another motto is, don’t look a gift horse in the eye. Me. never kissing and telling is just another show of respect of
others, so it has never been mentioned till now.
Another town conquered and now we are off to the big city, “Mexico City”.
Hitching into the mountains where the air is thin and the smog thick as shit, we arrive in what is a major city of our
new world.
I proceed to go out only to discover that ya can barley breath at rush hour in my solo morning discovery walk in
downtown MX city.
Traffic seems so much like the sea. (We call it disturbed seas). As in when you don’t have swells coming from one
direction but from all directions and get beaten to shit from bouncing around cause you isn’t a rhythm.
One day I’d like to get caught out in disturbed seas with a woman and have a very competent captain and ride the
disturbed seas, with her just for the experience.
I always got stuck, either being the captain or with just guys so maybe I should make it a goal.
I think the chances of disappointment are great cause with my luck she would get sea sick and puke on me. (If ya
gonna try, take condoms and Dramamine with you for better chances of success). Or the chance of getting a
broken dick.
In my wondering I found the zoo and a museum and explored them both. Well a zoo is a Zoo and a museum is a
museum and after 100’s of them I ain’t sure why you return other than to hope to see something else ya ain’t seen
yet or that lonely lady looking for entertainment or a lover.
I don’t recall anything much new so as I didn’t take notes, all I can say is I was there.
Well now I had been to the zoo and a museum chocked up by the thin air heavy smog and smoking lucky strike
ciggs didn’t help much.
I left out the pack of camel’s incident that I bought in Dallas from a vending machine. A little while later in a
restaurant I noticed that the ciggs were like ¾ full (weon filter smokers pack down our ciggs before we open the
pack). As I proceeded to try and pack one of the ciggs a little bit better out jumps a tobacco worm. Gross right?
Especially since I smoked nearly ½ the pack (and besides, the ciggs. tasted real stale). Well I changed brands that
night to Lucky Strikes and proceeded to mail that pack to RJ Remolds or whoever makes them and years later had
two cartons awaiting me in f’kn Yonkers NY, gratis from The Camel Co.
Ok I love interjecting this shit and that is why I am writing all this shit down as so I can defrag my mind and clean
up files.
If it ain’t appealing to your style it’s definitely time to stop here!!!!!!!!!!
Now that you have been warned, because I don’t think I’ll ever spend the time to organize all this shit and even if I
do I’ll keep this original to remind me of how my memory works as long as it be working.
Now I am off on another mission in Mexico City.
Don’t remember what the Roo went to do but I had a mission to do since I was in the vicinity.
At that point he went his way and I went mine and found a room alone in down town Mex. City.
One night I went out for a walk, checking out the action and what the f’k people do other than breathe in carbon
monoxide and found myself being stalked by some dude in a Cady El Dorado.
Well I was intimidated by gays in those days who always seemed to think I was some kind of chicken so I told the
fucker to bug off but he was persistent bugger so after a while I picked up a trash can and threw it into his window.
Well I ain’t sure I was aiming for the window but he got the point.
That took out the fun of looking for entertainment in the city so I was off on another mission the next day.
Last I heard my old time friend, neighbor and Boy Scout buddy, knowing his sorry ass since I was 5 yrs. Old, was
in med school in MX. So I called my mom to ask her to call his mom and find out where he be.
Well years later I found out he was in Guadalajara doing med school there. So I missed him there but caught up to
him and his wife yrs. later.
One of my last visits before I went to the mid-east and Europe was to his wifes’ and in-laws house to say good
bye. Having been friends with his wife’s cousin and spent a lot of time with all in the cafeteria and neighborhood in
HS we were part of the last of the Canarsie’s group and were on my farewell tour of leaving the Rotten Apple.
Well my drug dealing roomies were part of the group and having left them years ago only to return figured I keep
in some sort of touch where they informed me that he was in MX doing med. School.
Before I had my first tour of the world and had no home and was leaving they offered me an apt. seeing that I was
lost and lonely and couldn’t find my way home. But I was on the run and had to get outta the rotten apple. See, I
wanted to be lost don’t ya?
Anyway it was too late I was outta there.
Now the sucker is a surgeon general last I talked to him. Actually he is now the Director of a part of one of the big
chain hospitals in L.I., NY.
Where to next?
After not finding Dr. K, hanging my head, not knowing where to go to next and splitting with the Roo from the land
down under. He had his agenda or just tired of doing the road trip with me cause I don’t remember what his was
but that is part of being alone and not being able to find my way home.
Ok now Acapulco, the ocean resorts, beaches and chicks in bikini’s, that sounds like a goal.
Always seems good but the warnings of guerillas in the mountains between the coast and the city leads to
apprehension but what the fuck I been to many a war zone in my life so what was one more?
In those days the news was that there were Guerillas (probably with the support of Castro) in the mountains
between Mexico City and Acapulco, so hitching was outta the question so it was time to get on a bus.
What a long ride it was is all I remember till I arrived in Acapulco, as it was some time after 10 pm when I arrived.
Oops now where do I go right?
As I had heard it ain’t so safe in Acapulco, I figured I had to get my guard up. Stores seemed to be all closed but I
was sure there would be a cantina open but ya can’t buy spinach in a cantina so I strolled down the road clueless
as to where to go to or what direction to head in.
Well luck pulled up in VW Thing. The cheapest thing VW could build.
As it happened these two gringos ask me what the f' I was doing out in the worst part of Acapulco so late (with 55
lbs on my back), so I answered “looking for a place to crash”. What the F else would some gringo be doing there
with a back-pack?
Dumb question but guess it a way to start a conversation.
Ok now who were these friendlies?
Well what the fuck they gotta be better than the banditos from the mountains.
I just had faith in people who didn’t stick a gun in my face, so they told me of a place where I could get a place and
invited me for a ride there, so I jumped in back, pushed over a few six-packs of beer and held on for the ride to…..
Damn the road was dark as shit and about 25 clicks later, south of the city we arrived on a beach.
Having arrived at the beach, they stopped the Thing where we all got out and they proceeded to knock on the door
of this house waking up el dueño (the boss) and asked they asked him to give me a room.
Too kool, I didn’t get mugged tossed out in the middle of the road robbed or murdered but got a hut with a cot for
all of two bits.
Well sleep time, after a beer or two and happy that I made 2 friends and on the beach wherever the fuck it
happened to be. I was clueless but I slept and found out in the morning.
I was in Puesta Del Sol (interprets to place of the sun set). Known for the cliff divers, lots of beach and the 2nd
generation of our culture: “Backpackers”.
At Woodstock we were hippies but we richer hippies with some education who didn’t want to go to communes
found ourselves looking for a better life than 9 to 5 so we wound up on beaches with lots of sun and more beach
ahead.
• Non-fiction
• X…… I plead the 5th because I might incriminate myself with some exaggeration.
And I don’t give a shit of how much of this story anyone believes.
One morning I woke up and I knew I had to be gone…..
Too many drugs, no job no car, I lost it, (the car that is) My friends, (drug dealers), time for a change. Well I think I’ll
just go to Ca-lay-form-ya., only 3,000 miles west with probably better drugs?
Well it’s time to say good bye to everyone, pack my shit, stick my thumb out and get outta this ghetto, the rotten
apple. Well watch out Ca-lay-form-ya (California) cause I gonna change that form to fit me.
Saying good bye is just waiting to get the fuck out and figuring if someone can convince ya if there’s an alternative
or not.
Hey Glenn, just stopped by to say good-bye, I’m outta hea (if ya can’t read Brooklyn-eesz, stop right here. I read
Clock-work tangerine or whatever color it was, and didn’t find the glossary till I finished the whole book. Think I re-
read da fucker again?) Well if I fuckin decide to put a glossary in here I givie ya a heads up now. See I learnt
something in P.S. 115.
What the fuck did I learn? I learnt when to fight and when to run. I be a track star and hurdler outta survival. Hey
just so ya know Jews don’t fight. Right? Guess I wasn’t a Jew, just a survivor and I bet I outlived many of my
rivals.
If ya believe what ya hear, they were dead before I took on the world, with or without my help.
Ok back to fuckin Glenn. I get carried a-fuckin way at times.
” Dude ya gotta go elsewhere for ya ludes and grass cause I’ma outta here”.
Glenn: Well sit down and tell me what the fuck ya plan on doin? By the way dis here is my cousin (loser) whatever
the f his name was, Heza gonna get married, got a student ticket and ain’t got plans to go back to Israel.
Hmmmm (well this was 34 or so yr’s ago or so), I’ll give ya 50 bucks for dat ticket if I make it to Europe and 70 if I
make it to Israel. Well dis being a credit deal I had to say my word musta been good. Somehow we made the deal,
I musta left soon after with a new plan.
Getting home the next stop was big Sis. The bitch was livin in the burbs, Long fuckin Island which B’klyn and
Queens is a part of (what a fuckin joke she got outta the ghetto of Bklyn to wind up in Matawan N.J. a nowhere
town an winds up on the butt end of Bklyn that needed borders as to not be considered any part of Bklyn). (Go to
an atlas and look at a fuckin map if ya clueless bout what I’m saying).
Ok here goes all of me; outta the land I never loved and couldn’t wait to get out before I wound up dead or in jail,
of which I’m not sure which is better or worse.
I gotta say good-bye to my niece nephew the bitch sis and big bro-in-law. Stubborn niece and still stubborn PHD
wouldn’t talk to me no more or eat her veggies. Now her brother (gullible as he was and just loved his Unc – ”me”
ate his veggies cause I lied to him and told him, he get big and strong like his Uncle, Me, being 6’2, him being 4 yrs
old) was probably ignorant to what the fuck I was doing, so didn’t have an attitude.
Ok, so much for Ca-ly-form-ya, the plastic pit of the country, I’m off to the military state of the world, clueless of
where the fuck I was going, just knowing I gonna escape the Bad Apple, get to the airport and what do ya expect
(real security), Here I be with a forged plane ticket and did a Quaalude in the car a 714 nonetheless and one more
in my pocket, they giving me the through search. Phewww they didn’t find the other one (a gift from my dealer
roomies),
Ok I made it right, well time to get rid of the other one right? Gulp, I’m off to the plane and just gotta get a seat
number. The lude, the first one kicks in, that search took too long and now I come to this chick and she looks at
me… the forged ticket….. Then back at me and if she would have said boooooo. I think I woulda hit the floor.
• Ok so now I’m in Israel, Tel-Aviv (ain’t the first time I been there). Don’t remember a lot of what I did for the
next few days other than saw my father there in a hotel that was to be bombed in the near future, in. I visited my
cousin and his parents and did the family deed and told myself “I’m outta here and made my journey through the
Negev desert winding up in Elat in the Sinai desert.
Now this is 1972 and I’m lost and I can’t find my way home.
Well that bastard of a father, hijo-de-puta threw me outta the house a couple of years before, so’s I b homeless
right? Well this is 2007 and I’m still lost and lonely and I can’t find my way home, oh no, and I can’t find my way
home.
Well right now I’m sitting in a leather recliner on my Motor Yacht having just sold all my property in Costa Rica
and freezing my ass off in Miami so ya can cry a little tear for me.
Ok back to the Sinai.
There I am camping on the beach in Elat, hanging out on the beach one night, listening to some dude play his gui-
tah in front of a nice beach fire and along comes my princess, golden hair, blue eyes, beautiful, and she’s
interested in me.
Well I won’t go into too many details but my next 10 days with her was like a dream.
Oh I forgot to tell ya that she was, as my hijo de puta father would say “ A Latin chick” in his words a Puerto
Rican. Anyone Latin was a Puerto Rican to him.
Well ya just gotta tolerate his ignorance, being a Jew, thinking he was successful and all. Well ya gotta admit he
succeeded in outliving fuckin Hitler, who sent him to the death camps and if story be true he escaped, and the
truth be he did survive and so I ain’t so sure I be happy as such, cause I be born.
So here’s my story sad but true bout some gals that I once knew, took my lust and drove me in so many directions
that I’m still lost and cant find my way HOME.
I always wonder what that meant to Clapton or even if he wrote the song. Well Blind Faith and Eric has givin me
the rhythm to make me feel and think. Don’t ask me what it means to feel cause we all get moved one way or
another, even psycho’s.
Ok so now I spent 10 days touring Israel with this gorgeous Chilean Jewess and she’s going to Italy. Fuck what
was I thinking? Why I didn’t follow her eludes me to this day. Guess it wasn’t an option. She was sent on a mission
with her group. Unknown to me her and the others in the group were sent on this adventure to The Land O’ Israel
as to guard their lives as We (the CIA) had a plan and everyone knew it I guess except President Allende.
When the hammer was to fall, since this was July and as my memory serves me, he wasn’t taken out till Sept. 72.
There is a lot of information that I should look into but reality is I lost my first real lust..
I never saw her again or heard from her but as history tells us. I know that she having been sent on that journey
with the other 30 or so students cause their parents sent them outta harms way must have kept her there till it was
all over
. Where else can you send your Jewish child but to a land of confusion, where war, as history in which the books
written and command most of our laws today in this world so biased or just jealous to the facts. That the fact is
and was, that the Jews started this western ‘civil-i-zation” with the novel known to most as the Bible, first
testament the ten books of Moses to be enhanced to the Talmud. Whatever ya wish to call it. We Jews never get a
rest we always on the run. Through deserts, mountains, seas, (if ya believe my man Mosses parted them), snow
from the concentration camps, reeducation camps in Russia and last but not least from Ethiopia for almost 6000
fucking years. We always gotta fight or run (hey only the 1,000,000 or so Israeli soldiers did and continue to kick
the shit outta 250 million Arabs).
Well I wound up back in Elat after our tour of the Holy Land my heart void and wondering why she left me or why I
didn’t cower like a puppy and follow her to the worlds end.
I guess that they figured if plan “A” failed the fucker would kill their family’s (gotta give them credit, as to the rest
of families that sent the others on that school tour. with all knowing what a future would be if the coup failed) that
musta conspired to overthrow the dick-tator.
I guess a lot of people knew he was at his end of being a dick and he wasn’t smart enough to figure it out. Snooze
ya looze
OK now I head south, enough of Elat, we hippies weren’t appreciated there by the Israeli army.
So I wind up in a 2 named town Niviot in Hebrew (Hebrew which was my language I studied in H.S. and bribed my
teacher to pass me), and Nawayba or such in Arabic.
I wound up in a community of which was as new to me as to this date I don’t know why I moved on since life was
so easy under the 140 degree fahrenhight sun.
It’s hard to describe what kept me there for months other than I was homeless (hey I never said I was poor) so I
pitched my tent in the “Dunes” 3 date trees down the beach from the Moshav.
There were about a dozen of us backpackers camped out about 300 meters or so south of the Moshav (something
like a Kibbutz) on the Red Sea (wasn’t red at all but the clearest water to this day I ever seen). I shoulda named my
trees lethal cause they were. Date trees got these thorns on them that you can use as darts.
Unbeknownst of me it was a nude beach and all my neighbors were naked unless they went to the Moshav. Well it
took a day or two till I felt awkward and I joined the nude community. I always felt susceptible to a barracuda
taking off my pecker when I wet into the sea but it managed to survive.
Well a lot of these people taught me how to survive in 140 degree heat. First ya get in the sea and cool off till
sunset. 2nd ya work on the Moshav cause they pay and feed ya. Option 2 was significant cause the nearest
supermarket was 70 clicks’ north in Elat.
So I went to work picking cucumbers outta the desert sand. Yeah I said desert sand. Fuckin only a Jew can figure
out how farm in desert sand.
Thinking of it today I feel like I was treated like a wetback. But I fell in with the crowd. Stoop labor can fuck up your
back, as picking cucumbers was as low as ya can stoop. But me being so ingenious got outta that in a couple of
days by volunteering to be a mortar-fucker (mixing cement).
Being a Jew I was treated with preference by all of the chiefs of the Moshav until… we will get to that in a few.
After we completed the foundation that we were mixing cement for. they offered us, me and Armey a new job, to
build a fence around the Moshav.
Well that was easy work and we got a slave to mix the cement for the posts (now we owned a mortar fucker). We
had graduated.
Now all I had to do was learn sign language because they gave us a mute Arab (probably because he was a liar?)
well they cut off your hand for stealing, cut out your tongue for lying and I never wanted to know how ya can lose
your dick so I stayed away from Arabs till….. Tuley
I gonna get back to my Egyptian Princess Tuley S
Well we musta been working too slow cause they changed our contract to paying us by the meter. Whatever, we
didn’t bitch, we got bk’fst and lunch which was dinner to keep us happy till they ran outta material (of which I
learned well and in the next 30 some odd years I still take into account). At which time we were laid off till the next
shipment arrived.
We coulda gone back to stoop labor but they treated us so good that they sold us food from the kitchen. Basically
they charged us what it cost at the supermarket or lower and saved us the trouble of going to Elat 70 klicks away.
During these times, because there were a few of those times when they ran out of materials for our work we were
free.
One morning I decided that wanted to try Acid (as in LSD) one time and took a ½ tab of acid before sunrise.
Sunrise being over Saudi Arabia about 3 miles across the red sea. Then taking the next 1/2 tab watching the sun
come up over the mountains of Saudi Arabia..
Well I played with the (diamonds) sand for a while. I don’t have a clue as to the time passing by I spent playing
with the sand but nobody was awake yet so I got my mask and snorkel and went to the water. What a trip.
As I was snorkeling around the on shore reef which must have been about one and a half times the size of a
football field, I came to the point and ran into this almost 6 ft Cuda sitting in this still water cove with all these little
fish hanging with him.
I was close enough to the cuda as to reach out and touch him, not. To happen.
So I submerged and flipped on, being told that they go for shinny things in the water. A good thing my pecker
wasn’t shinny.
At one point I lifted my head out of the water and saw this Bedouin pass by with 2 camels, they were glowing (I
don’t know how can u explain how you see things being on acid unless ya been there).
At some point a later I was back on the sand dune when I saw him coming back when I first noticed him from the
direction he was headed in and using sign language, Hebrew, Arabic and gestures, I was able to make a trade deal
for a tent which some backpackers had left me when they left for their home, for a camel ride through the Sinai.
Well what a trip, riding a desert ship. I never did acid again but I guess I felt so safe from having a bad trip, that day
that I took the risk. It was a first and last of an acid trip or a desert ship tour..
I just hung out there in Niviot snorkeling fishing, hanging out with the guy that was in charge of the boats, throwing
knifes, boating, fishing, marking the reefs for the glass bottom boats and hanging out with the naked people living
in the dunes, till we received more materials to go back to work.
That’s when I met Tuley. She was an Arab but an Egyptian Jew so I don’t know what you’d call her. Since being a
Jew reclassifies people in the culture I grew up in.
Tuley had been working at the Moshav but for some reason she had left her job there a few days after we met.
Tuley didn’t want to go back to Jerusalem where she had lived with her family and musta fallen for me because
she moved in with me. Well it didn’t take long for her to get into being a nudist among the nudists till I fell outta the
reverence of the Moshav cause they called her family and told them she wasn’t working there anymore and living
with me.
Her sister and brother-in-law came down to claim her.
Well days later she came back and we lived together in the date trees. She shoulda been named truly Shalom
since shalom means peace if ya didn’t already know.
We traveled to Jerusalem one time for Passover, so she could visit her family.
Having arrived in the evening we proceeded to a hotel outside the Jaffa Gate of the old city. After checking in and
a long bus ride we went into the old city to buy some food and drink.
Well it was early evening and just getting dark as we approached our hotel when these two Arabs approached us
and starting to give me shit. I put my back against the wall and backed her up to the door and told her to go up to
the room. With her safely out of harms way it was just me and these two thieves. I saw this as the time to set this
shit right. Handing Tuley the bag of goodies, I taken two bottles of 7 up out of the bag and faced these two wanna-
be’s and backed up towards the entrance of the hotel. One of the assholes took out a switchblade at which time it
took him to get it out of his pocket I raised the bottles read for a confrontation. With my two bottles over my
shoulder ready to crack them open they just watched and cussed me;
. With my back to the wall I told them to fuck off or bleed. I had to let them know I wasn’t a running from two little
fags.
After hedging them on and them cursing me they finally got the idea that this wasn’t a fucker to fuck with and
backed off.
I thought Tuley might have the clerk call the cops but maybe I got upstairs before the call went through. They must
have figured the same and left. No cops showed up so I guess the call never went through.
Excitement done for evening I didn’t have to replace the 7 up and we ate drank and made love.
The next morning she went home for Passover and left me to my lonesome.
I met some gringos in a tea house and we hung out there for a few hours talking, when one of the two Arab fags
came to our table and started threatening to kill me and cussing me out.
Well the table had benches that could fit about 5 on a side so by the time I got around the table and chased him he
was gone and I wasn’t going to play his game and returned to the tea house.
This Canadian I was talking to at the time of the rude interruption told me about this hotel/ hostile in the old city he
was staying in, it being cheaper and my gal gone for the 8 days of Passover, sounded better than St. Kathrin’s
Monastery in the Old City that I usually stayed in when I was in Jerusalem. That they didn’t have a curfew sure
sounded better and better.
Well there was a group of others too including some girls so that evening we went to a classier tea house on a 2nd
floor in the old city called the Danish Tea House.
Drinking tea listening to music and bullshitting with the crowd was like a totally different atmouphere than sitting
around drinking beer with the Welsh, Scots’, Danes and variety of travelers in Niviot.
After some time I was ready to hit the sack and the Canadian followed me outside along with the rest of the crowd.
Now who would expect that same Arab to be outside awaiting me?
• At the sight of us he came running up at us and seeing a Bruce Lee moving tries giving the Canadian what
was a weak flying drop kick. My thinking he was coming at me stepped aside preparing myself for the attack but
he hit the Canadian and then proceeded to run away. It was a lame try since he came straight legged instead of
kicking while in the air and I thwarted most of his force with my arm. He was lucky enough to keep on his feet
because the Canadian and I proceeded to chase after him towards a dark tunnel in the old city.
I told him not to chase any further because he was armed and might have someone hiding at the end of the dark
tunnel waiting to help him.
Now this being a third time I had encountered this coward, I was getting serious about watching my back.
Being 6’2” in good shape I don’t have a clue as to why this little Arab about 5’8” would mess with me or other
tourists. If he was a wanna be terrorist he was gonna get a lesson from Bklyn dude sooner or later.
My days were spent walking in the market in the old City and around Jerusalem.
One night as I was walking through the old city, passing through a tunnel I see the Arab approaching so I stop back
up against the wall and slowly walk towards the end he was about to enter.
Stepping out into the light just as he was about to enter, ready to run and jump his sorry ass, he had the nerve, not
that he had many choices cause he was going down, he offered me his hand in greeting saying :how are you my
good friend”. At that point I took his hand and gripped it and turned around quickly and took his arm over my
shoulder and tossed the fucker holding onto his arm and listening to it snap.
I put my knee on his chest and took his knife out of his back pocket and told him I’d be outta Israel before he was
going to use that arm again, then kicked him in the face for good measure and went on my way..
I don’t like fighting but I love less having to look over my shoulder and now had things in order for a few months.
Well feeling safer in the old city I proceeded to the Danish Tea house where I met up with the group.
After telling the story I was given a toast to my success of getting rid of that asshole for a while.
Later that night when I left the Canadian and I went back with me to the hotel. A few minutes later he came to my
room and offered me some hash. Ok after the encounter with the Arab I guessed I could smoke some hash and
chill.
He took some shit out of a Marlboro box and proceeded to make a joint mixing some shit with tobacco and putting
it into the empty tube of a cigarette. That was how up you rolled a joint with hash in that part of the world.
But little that I knew, it was opium not hash. He was on a mission of getting hooked on opium. He was on a mission
from his Algerian junkie friend who was cooking opium and shooting it, and of course a dealer. After a while he
left and I went off into the opium dreams (visions) until I noticed that I stopped breathing.
Listening to your breaths, each and every one and the sounds of the Old City at night, my breathing getting longer
and longer in between the next and listening to the breaths getting shorter till you stop breathing and becoming
aware that you stopped, can make you go to sleep forever or make you aware that if you don’t breath you are
going to bliss and die.
I recovered enough to force myself to start to breath again and after it came to me I was going into a final bliss of
sleep forever. With every painful breath or so it felt I finally had the mind to start moving. I got up drank water and
paced the room till the early morning hours since no smart tourist would wander the old city by himself.
Realizing how close I came to bliss I finally went out to walk it off at sunrise.
After I realized that they were trying to get me hooked on opium and crashing big time I got pissed off and went to
the asshole in the dormitory (hostile part) and didn’t bother to wake him up but just kicked the shit out of him in
bed and left. Packed my shit and headed out of Jerusalem. And who do I meet in the street on my way to the bus
station? None other than this Algerian morphine addict who asks me how did it go last night.
Well I crashed for a day or two recovering from the OD and decided to visit my uncle in the Tel-Aviv area.
I arrived at the bus station in Tel-Aviv and decided to call him and tell him I was in Tel Aviv and he asks who I am
and I tell him I was his nephew he proceeds to tell him exactly where I am and I proceed to tell him I was at the
central bus station. He says “stay right there and I will come pick me up”.
Ok, now here I am getting all this attention from my uncle whose wife my aunt, wasn’t sure whether or not to like
me.
She, not being right of mind since the death of my little cousin Paul. And not being sure she was ever in a right
mind since the way the family always treated her. Now here arrives my uncle, goes all out to pick me up at the bus
station?
Well as it happened, I being on my own now for 3 years, and having not hearing from me for many a months were
asked by my parents about what the fuck I was doing. They having no clue, called the authorities to see if they
could locate me.
Well unless I was in jail or dead how the fuck they know where I was?
Well me having a different last name as my uncle, he gave info that I have no clue as to how but gave my
grandfathers name. Being as it may the police found a person with that name. DOA in Elat, the place I was headed
to the last time he saw me.
So as I had arrived to Tel Aviv and my uncle, on the way to identify the body with the family, came to recover me
at the bus station, happy as shit he doesn’t have to tell my parents that I was dead. I was glad to hear that too
having all that fun in Jerusalem and still in a funk’
I do survive and so far outlasted most of them all.
In the Jewish religion you sit Shiva for the dead and you cover all mirrors in the house, so when I got their house I
saw the mirrors were still covered, then uncovered as we walked in. (sitting Shiva is like respecting the dead and
carries on for 10 days).
So I saved them form not having to see a dead body or sitting Shiva for 10 days and the telephone call to the
Rotten Apple to tell my folks the bad news.
I haven’t changed much in all these years cause I get on the road and ya might not hear from me for a year or two.
Cause I am lost and lonely and I can’t find my way home.
I can’t explain but I feel I am all alone so why the fuck do I need to give a/report to anyone wherever the fuck I am.
I think my mind is healthier cause my motto now is definitely more optimistic than when I left NY in 88.
When I left NY my motto was “Ask me if I care”.
Now my motto is: If you ask me where I live? My answer is wherever the fuck I wanna live. Ask me what I do? and
my reply is, whatever the fuck I wanna do. Now ask me why? Ans: because I can!
Anyway so I was being mourned, thought dead and they were on the way to identify my body.
And here I call out of the blue. Saying to them they won’t have to call my parents and telling them I was dead.
Well saving my family that was all fucked up anyway. I stayed there till my Tuley joined me and after a few days
went back to Niviot in the Sinai, snorkeling every day, diving on some, fishing, boating and walking the beach for
the next few months.
I think she would have made a good wife or partner but I wasn’t ready to take on a wife. There was just something
missing, so I was on my way, a couple months later.
The boat trip to Cyprus that never came to pass
Well as the months went by I guess I was ready to travel some more since my Frisbee friends were going to the
orient, via Cypress by boat then to Turkey, and I ain’t sure cause I never made the boat…….. I made some
enemies in Jerusalem as I described before (not the last time) and got in a Monopoly game….. Go to jail, do not get
to Cypress and don’t collect my 200 bucks.
Well I feel important now that I come to think of it, cause I got busted by the head Norco his assistant, a female
agent and an American Interpol agent.
The forces clambered down on me and after being held five days, one day over what their law prescribes (treated
like a terrorist?) I had my day in court. After having the charges translated to me of having been busted for
possession of 1/8th of a milligram of either hashish or grass with the intention to smuggle drugs out of the country.
In the five days in jail we went to bkfst, lunch and dinner. Outside the cafeteria was a courtyard and we were
allowed to walk around the walled in area.
On the fourth day I was taken to the courthouse basement with about 10 other prisoners and sat and waited my
turn.
I sat and sat awaiting my great time (first time) in criminal court not knowing what I was in for.
Well I saw the expressions of those returned to the holding cell and I didn’t notice any celebrations and it seemed
as I was to be last.
It turned out that the guards came back and cuffed us again and ignored my stating that I didn’t have my day in
court.
They just piled us into the Paddy-wagon and we were off back to jail.
Sitting there in my confused state of mind one of the prisoners starts slamming the back of his head into the side
of the van till he cracked it open.
The story told to me was that he was one of elite police officers of Israel and a Sgt. At that and got sentenced to
twenty years for robbery.
Ok, or not OK I get thrown back in my cell and the guards ignored my inquires as to why I didn’t have my day in
court and why I was being held a fifth day (as they I was told could only hold ya 4 day till charged or have to
release ya) got really funked out.
At that point things seemed to go from bad to worse in my mind.
I was lost and feeling like I was going to find my way home, that being prison.
You (or at least I did) lose track of time in jail so I don’t remember what time I got back from court but decided this
was gonna suck so I started a hunger strike and decided not to sit in the cafeteria but pace the fifty meter
courtyard.
Dwelling in my misery and giving up on seeing freedom in the near future just walked the square till going back to
my cell.
I repeated the same the next morning and returned to my cell when finally they took me back out to the van and to
court.
No lawyer, since they don’t assist you in hiring one and threatened my Uncle to deport him if he assisted me in
thwarting this huge bust of the decade.
Even though I had almost 2,000 bucks when busted, I couldn’t seem to get a lawyer.
I, sitting in the courtroom with just my uncle there and spectators, awaiting to see my head chopped off, as my
uncle proceeded to read a letter my mother had written unbeknownst to her that I was in Jail.
My uncle served me well as to stating that my mother was on her way to Europe with my father to meet a
planeload of Freed Russian Jews and then Israel to deliver the suckers that could get out of one police state for
another.
He also told the court that my mother was dying of cancer and anything else to get me off the hook. Since he
spoke in Hebrew I missed most of it.
I had pleaded not guilty to possession, to the capital crime of possession of 1/8th of a milligram of hash or
marijuana, (damn I could have been an exporter of all that resin they surgically scraped outta a bowl of pipe that
was stem less. I am clueless as how it wound up in my back pack since I hardly ever smoked in all my time in
Israel and when I did it was with others and their setup.
Grand slam they got that big drug dealer.
Well as it so happened, the elevator operator/guard that was taking me back down to the dungeon told me that if I
pleaded guilty I would probably receive the mercy of the court.
Lest be known I listened to someone’s advice and the understanding judge convicted me of that great offence and
fined me @ 70 bucks and 3 yrs probation.
Ok I got the 70 bucks, and two thousand more, get me outta here.
Now they sent me back to abookabia or however ya spell the name of that jail, till the fine was paid. They put me
in a new cell with 10 Arabs and only 10 beds, me being the 11th I guessed I didn’t have a place to sit. Luckily I was
on the road to freedom and wouldn’t have to spend the night. Well I stood till I was let out.
They were a very experienced group of Arabs and proceeded to use newspaper to heat up a coffee can of water
and make themselves hot coffee.
Freedom, my next adventure
All I remember after that was getting a beer, calling a travel agent and booking the next fuckin plane outta there.
I went back to my uncle’s place where I got;; busted and got my shit, took a long hot shower and the next thing
that I remember is being at the airport and flying to Italy but somehow it stopped in Greece. Now I asked for next
and the cheapest plane fare out of Israel but I was booked to Rome. Go figure. On the plane I met this dude who
offered me a tour or Athens. Well this was the early 70’s so how can I say no? I was a free man again
We got off the plane then to the tarmac and he gets greeted by these people picking up our luggage and the next
thing I know I’m in a limo.
Well he didn’t turn out gay which I never thought about till this day being in the 21st century, reminiscing and had
a good time checking shit out.
Now I return to the airport and get back to the plane on my way to Italy.
Arriving in Rome int. airport only to encounter an Italian labor strike I managed to find my way to the city. Who the
fuck was on strike? I don’t remember cause every day I was there it seemed that someone was on strike.
Well I don’t remember much of Rome other than museums, churches and pensions’ cause it didn’t have much to
offer me since I wasn’t into the night life at that time. Those fools crucified Christ, had a Mussolini and shit pizza,
(fuckin B’klyn pizza rules) a bunch of fountains and water that can make ya sick.
Time to get outta spaghetti0’s where they put a bottle of bubbly water on your table and if ya drink it they charge
ya.
After a few days I get on the road to Florence which I don’t remember squat about other than more churches and
museums and get on a Train to Venice.
On the train I meet these 2 girls that are tired of getting goosed by all these obnoxious Italians as they described
them. (Remember I grew up in B’klyn and these are just names we used as a description of ethnicity and I don’t
remember ever being called a kike, just a Jew).
So we get a hotel room together and head out to see the nights of Veins,
There we find out that there is some kind of festivities that night in the center of the city and everyone was on the
way to Marco Square.
Well somehow we figured that the boats going down (or up) the canals was where the festivities were at, so the
first boat passing the bridge we were on I stuck out my thumb and believe it or not the first boat passing by
stopped and took us to the center of the Fest. (Hanging with 2 American gals musta had some effect).
We watched the fireworks display from the boat in the middle of the waters. With all the churches surrounding the
water having flares alight in a red glow in their towers and facades, reflecting on the water and fireworks galore it
was very entertaining night.
They gave me a great greeting in Venice.
The next days were passed going to more museums, art galleries and churches.
After I walked my feet off acting the tourist and I guess they weren’t anything like my Chilean bombshell I was off
to Austria.
Since I didn’t tell ya what my uncles’ reply was to my parents when I was in jail it’s because I have no clue. I guess
I should have asked but he did tell me of my folk’s plans and what they wrote.
But I was told that my folks were going to be in Vienna Austria, and that she was off on one of my fathers “el hijo
de puta” expeditions of getting a bunch of Russians outta mother Russia.
It would be too much of a burden to explain what the hijo de puta was trying to do for his fellow Jews other than he
had told me at one point that he wound up in Russia after he was liberated from the nazis (shit I ain’t gonna give
them nazis a capital n cause then I’d have a bigger target to shoot at and people and their families to hunt).
Oh by the way I never told ya I’m the master fucker or at least I have come to consider myself as such when
someone fucks with my friends or myself.
Well my folks were on this trip to meet this group of Russian Jews immigrating to Israel. Guess they got tired of
black bread (which is what I ate when I was in Elat, with yogurt, every time I went on my shopping adventure at
the supermarket, on my trips there. Ha ha, ya can even eat better than a Ruskie even in the desert in Israel).
Nonetheless I met them in the Vienna Intercontinental Hotel, not so long after being living in the Sinai and then in
jail.
Well I get to see mom again, and it being such a long time, I go soft like a puppy just happy to be close and feeling
the protection from the harsh world I had been living in ever since ?????
How can someone turn this hardened criminal, into mush?
I guess only mom can do it.
Well one way was they had this buffet set up in the dinning room of the Intercontinental. I had 3 of the best fuckin
meals, and I mean meals with 3 deserts since my mom served me my last dinner just before I left the rotten apple.
Mom made me all my favorites, potato dumplings sautéed with onions, steak and I’m sure there was some
veggies there too. And probably her apple bread pudding for desert.
At that time I just came up to see her before my father would come home from work. Since we weren’t still talking
at the time I wanted to be gone before he got there to give me indigestion.
The meal was a fantastic treat since it had been over a year that I had been to that condo I had been thrown out of.
Here I am in Austria, Vienna having my next meal with my mother at the Intercontinental 5 star restaurant. and
another superb one at that, (my mothers was better ******’s). Nobody can cook better than mom when she put
together that meal with luv.
All you needed to do at the Intercontinental was needed to point at what you wanted and they put it on a plate and
a slave brought you your choice of meats, veggies and your desires to your table, which I returned for two more
choices of full dishes and after three deserts.
Well after jail, and jail in Israel had pretty good food, considering it was free and healthy Much better than the
mystery meat sandwiches they tossed to us in the Dade County Jail years later.
At least the meals that I ate before going on a hunger strike at which time all ya eat is saliva. A tasteless non-
nutritious meal.
Now I be sitting with no one but my mom, having 3 fuckin deserts to go with the 3 meals I had because everyone
left but not me and my mom, I guess they finished their one dish and desert a little faster than it took me to down
mine.
What a memory, my mom always being there and me, appreciating her company and my being totally lost in the
world, and my knowing she was to be living her last months of life with no hope from cancer
The next day just me and my mom walked the streets of Vienna, stopped for bkfst while she was telling me about
her trip to Vienna as a child with her father before the WAR.
The most she ever told me about her family in all the 22 yrs. I knew her was that she had five brothers and sisters,
They had servants and her father invented the knitting loom to knit lace.
They lived on an estate in Poland till the nazis came and killed her whole family.
She never did tell me how she survived and I guess I was always afraid to find out, so I just never asked, that
knowledge fearful of being to painful for me to know.
Well after our stroll we went back to the hotel me telling my mom of my next plans of travel.
They weren’t set but it was sort of a plan.
That plan was to continue my adventure to the orient with a side trip to Poland to see my historic home of my
ancestors. At that point my mom stopped me and begged me never to go to Commie Poland (not in those words).
She made me promise not to go.
The softened felon that I became after incarceration promised I wouldn’t, which would change my direction from
east to west.
Later I learned that at the time, Poland was offering the families the option of reclaiming the confiscated properties
by the nazis And she fearing for me didn’t want me to become a Pole nor a Commie, and by this action: first: she
may never see me again because I wouldn’t be able to leave. Second: I was a Jew and not thought worthy of
kicking some Poles off their land and wind up in hostile environment and the risk I might not survive that
adventure.
Well I never looked further into what I was told by my sister since I made my mother a promise and since I had
buried her at the time I got that information I couldn’t petition her to let me break that promise, so I let it be her
wisdom that altered my destiny.
Wise or not, there are falks in the road in life and if you lucky u get the opportunity to go down the longest road or
fall off the earth.
Ok so here I be, in Europe hanging out till mom and pop get here and hitching on the auto-ban (that no speed limit
highway).
I get picked up by these freaks one driving a porche and the other a Mercedes which I get into, doing 120 + and not
kph but mph. And hardly slowing down for 90 degree left turns, leaving burning rubber behind.
Well I just be Traveling cause I’m moving through this fuckin European place, that ain’t got much to offer me other
than being solid ground and no fuckin prison bars, at least not yet.
Passing through Innsbruck, Salzburg and some other towns I am on the road again. It being June or July I could
only go up the ski slopes by foot but the Alps looked pretty cool. And the villages or towns looked probably the
same as they had in the last few centuries.
Always a pub and that was where I found myself every night after a day of hiking.
There were a few barmaids that kept me company at times but my opinion so far of what I seen in Austria, Swiss.
And Germany was that Europe had a lot of history, hasn’t gotten over it and was like a condensed USA.
I spent one night in a barn, guess I was trespassing but nobody bothered me.
One day I was hitching and got a ride from a farmer heading east through Switzerland and he stopped on his farm
and introduced me to his family and 3 legged deer and lugging out a jug of milk from the barn had to have me taste
the milk just out the cows tit.
He wasn’t as all that hospital as to offer me his wife’s.
Back on the highway/Autobahn.
One night I wind up at this rest stop and meet up with this German dude and we decide to set up our tents in the
rest stop.
Now all set for the evening we go outside after buying some food from the vending machines and he lights up a
bowl of hash.
It had been months since I smoked and he had his cassette player on to pink Floyd.
After a few hits of the pipe I laid back and wham! I was on a hallucinogenic high.
I was having a relapse of opium high and got paranoid.
I proceeded to pack up and hit the Autobahn in the darkness.
I walked back to the autobahn and started hitching again. Then it started raining and stoned as I was got my
poncho out and squatted against the guard rail where I fell asleep squatting with pack still on and poncho covered,
till dawn.
So I wind up in Munchin or Munich whatever ya want to call it. I find a room and got to take a nice long hot shower
till I hear knocking on the floor telling me I was using too much hot water. Well being a NY’er I had never heard that
before. Even as cheap as my father was, being after me all my life about leaving on the lights turning the heat
down as to keep me in bed till the house warmed up if I was permitted.
He still came in my room when I stayed in his condo and shut of the TV in the middle of the night if I was asleep,
half of the time waking me up 30 years later.
Tradition, tradition. He being a millionaire worried about a few watts of electricity when he was paying about 50k a
year for upkeep and taxes on his condo.
I still sleep with the TV, radio and light on when I go to sleep. I wonder if it is only spite him.
I pass the Glockenspiel (being this big coo coo clock) in downtown and find myself at the Hoffbreau house, well
now I found home. At least for the evening.
There be these buxom German woman that can carry 5 one liter mugs in each hand and serve ya with no tips
involved. Well that place was interesting, with the um-pah music and turned me on like I wanted my dick to be a
wet noodle thank god cause if these bar maids gave me a hand job they might have taken IT off.
.
Damn what the fuck did Hitler want here? He wanted out, so he figured he should conquer the world, Hmmm…
that’s a lot of real estate. I might give a nickel a meter for Germany. But let it be told I would never stay to collect
rent there.
I guess that’s why my parents left a few years after my sister was born in Mittinvalt, I believe in the black forest.
They went to liberty city or Philly to have me and I was told I was conceived on the ship over.
That story don’t end there cause I got married on a Damn ship (the Stattendam) 27 yrs later and live on a yacht till I
can sell this Damn Yacht.
The next day I went to the brewery but all the seats were full and I lost at muscial chairs (if ya dont get a seat,
about 20 odd seats ya dont get free beer nor nockworst).
Luck run out and.....
Now, here I see why we let that fucking Nazi Hitler have all of Europe cause who fucking cared to live in that
dreary place?
Don’t get me wrong I would have shot that little fucker hittler, the one with the mustache, he don’t deserve a
capital h to his name but I think I woulda shot out his kneecaps first, then each toe and proceed to cut off is limp
dick, shove it in his mouth, if he didn’t die, post his caucus on a staff with the staff up his ass and put him in front
or the Glockenspiel to show him and the other murderers that time wont stop for killers.
Now lets pause here for Neo-nazies, clansman and the rest of the ignorant fools, let them know they make good
targets.
Hey how bout them Arab martyrs they be on my hit list and should be on yours too.
Life is sooooooooo good. Well I ain’t so sure about that statement but death and suffering ain’t the answer. So that
be why I still live.
Off I go to back to the autobahn.
After finding a town somewhere where all of the bored people that were lucky and escaped leaving these poor
Dutch farmers to till the lands I find a small boarding house and get a room.
There was no reason to wander past a restaurant I had seen enough of the country side .So off I go.
I get one ride to the middle of nowhere and continue to hitch to the next destination when my ride stops to pick
me up.
He was wearing a uniform, gun, and knight stick. I wasn’t naked and with 55 lbs on my back I was easily escorted
to the back of the Paddy Wagon (police truck).
Door slams and now I am in the back of a Paddy wagon with about 10 must have been hard criminals.
Hi HO hi ho off to jail I go. Thinking I am now going to have a new profession, building Dikes in Holland.
But I wasn’t so lucky there was to be no schooling on how to build a dike.
The paddy wagon proceeded to where I was clueless.
I found it very inhospitable of the Dutch Gestapo to not offer windows and I didn’t get to see the countryside.
Finally we get to our destination awaiting the barb wire fences, high stone walls and chain and ball and off to the
dungeon. Only to get disappointed again.
Getting the boot they had delivered us to the old part of Amsterdam where they set to prison of bars, hookers and
drug addicts.
That being the punishment without getting the opportunity to plead not guilty to hitching a ride received judgment
without a liar (lawyer) get tossed out with the rest of the hardened criminals into this community of back packers
and degenerates.
I having learned since from some Dutch folks I have met all over the world received the opinion that the reason for
that was because there had been real criminals doing harm hitching on their roads and decided to pick up all of us
hitchhiking vermin off the autobahn and protect their citizens.
So here I wind up in Amsterdam, well shit that place reminded me of the rotten apple (N.Y.) so grey………
It did have some attributes but nowhere I’d choose to live.
I enjoyed the ho’s hanging out in the store shop windows
But I wasn’t buying any.
Finding a room above this pub made it convenient to get back to bed if you can navigate the narrow spiral
staircase after drinking a bunch of Heinekens.
Well when in Rome (drink wine) do what the Romans do. So in Holland unless ya get hung up on a windmill ya
drink Heineken.
I wondered around looking for the woman, unattached pretty looking for free sex with no results and found these 2
Lymies (Britt’s) sitting at this table or maybe they ran into me sitting there first but me never out of words
conversed with them. Figuring out that if they knew where the birds were they wouldn’t be talking to me.
So there was no use asking them for any info in Amster-Damn-where are the girls?
Well they proceed to light up a joint when in walks the police or Bobbies as they are known to these damn fools.
Cops walk over to our table and joint goes flying under the seats and we get pass- ported. Them producing
their Britt passport and me my US had no clue to the diplomatic state of Europe and start to get déjà-vu and i wasn’
t even smoking.
Well we US citizens aren’t on their hate list as of the 70’s so they only they only
took the fool Lymies out and tried to get them to confess to smoking that dangerous weed and left me there all
alone.
Returning a few minutes later they told of their ordeal, that they received a few blows by the cops but they didn’t
give up their criminal actions and receive a summons.
It seems like I always wind up associating with criminals so it was a good think I got outta Israel real fast.
There I was introduced to more criminals ain’t that a crime of the state to introduce me to hundreds of criminals?
Next day it is off to a new Pub or bar whatever you call it and run into this group of Americans on a tour from
Batten- down- your- hatches- Rouge the good ole US.
On top of that they had woman in their company from the tour.
I wound up in bed along again so I must have found no female takers.
Time to get outta Dutch Land
Damn, there’s just gotta be some way outta here……….. So I get on a train to some ferry to cross the English
Channel (I guess the English must have gotten to that part of the world first).
I wind up in England
Ok now I have my first run in with the British law. Not having distinguished the difference between Immigration
and customs for many a year to come traveling, being they all in Uniforms with guns in most cases. So now I start
getting asked all sorts of questions and my eyes must be bulging or something cause all I saw was an Interpol
interview upcoming and my grandest criminal conviction coming up out of some computer somewhere (he he
they were all computer illiterate just like me) and get put back on the ferry and be bounced back and forth on the
north sea till the ferry would go out of business and be sent to some far away country where it would float till it
sank.
Well after some stern looks (as if I didn’t look like your average backpacker, druggy, hippie obnoxious American)
and an expression of “well this your lucky day cause if I fuck with ya now I gonna miss my tea and biscuits, so
fuck of yank and keep outta my hair.
I needed to get on a train to London since I didn’t like much of what I seen from the port that the ferry delivered
me to.
In London I find myself in an underground train station. Well how am I supposed to know which stop to get off
when I cant see where the fuck I was?
I would have been in deep shit if I been a Brit and landed in NY the same way. (I’d hate to be a Lyme tourist and
wind up on the subway in NY and pick a station to get off and find a hotel room).
I should have listened better in school about London cause all I knew of was Carnaby St. and some Castle the
queen lived in.
Maps weren’t in my budget at the time (and I still find it hard to get myself to buy to date when most can be
obtained free).
I cant remember how I found a hostel but I did (now if you need a map to find a pub in London you better not go
out of your neighborhood cause ya might not get back home) which I think of today as a homeless shelter in the
states. But I do remember having to pay.
Having been drinking beer in the Sinie for so long it wasn’t so strange drinking warm beer (or room temperature)
but usually we started off with a cold one following room temperature then warm till hot. But the Brit’s are
consistent so who’s to complain 30+ years later. Especially since people look at me strange when I drink warm
beer today.
What they haven’t figured out is that I learned in my travels that cold beer can cost more in some places (such as
here in Costa Rica when you buy a case of beer). Well when I load a case of warm beer on my scooter 9 outta 10
that ask me for a beer and I tell them it’s warm say “damn how can ya drink warm beer”. Hope they don’t figure it
out but I save a lot by their being so spoiled.
Being the adventure I have been I have learned that if I wanted comfort the rest of my life I woulda never left my
mothers womb.
Fuckin life is give and take. Just start 2 lines on the street one for “I am giving”
The other “I am taking”. What would the results be do ya think.
Well the giving line would be without seeing the last people at the back of the line cause it on the way to a new
County. The next line might hold a few curious people that want you to haul away junk or wives and a few children.
Well backpacking is sacrificing every day till ya quit or settle down cause even if you on just a limited time your
first journey (life is limited only the ticket don’t have an end date & some like Captain Zero just ain’t done quit yet
or settled down and is still here in Puerto Viejo in 2008 living on the beach with his heard of muts and tent).
Well I don’t know if I ever settled down but I sure did stop to buy a 40 ft Yacht, cars, trucks, bikes, boats, wife?, Oh
well how happy I be? On a scale of 1 to 100 I can only answer that I ain’t ready to check out and can still drink
warm beer.
I drift off every time I edit this draft as memory servers me and lessons learned in this passing I call life.
Who knew what was up the road and how many paths lay in front of us.
Life is sure one fucking adventure.
Why the fuck am I writing this shit now for almost a year could be a mystery to me but I’m not sure I am so
mystified as maybe I am entertaining myself.
What else do I have at this stage in my life?
One would be the memory of my youth.
The feeling of wanting to think I have accomplished something.
The knowing that I was always alone except when I was being protected or protecting someone.
The coming to terms of not setting my goals to high.
The comfort of being a good person to my best abilities and conscience which has been taught to me by a fucked
up civilization that still is clueless as to why we are here.
The fact that man is so insecure (woman worse because that the only way society can keep the upper hand on
them) that he lies more to himself than to others by thinking they know what the fuck they are accomplishing but if
they think they do can they answer why?
Maybe life is just a game someone is playing and we are the mice in a maze.
Who cares anyway as long as we don’t suffer.
Why would man make war?
Cause he is paranoid and figures if he controls the masses, he controls his destiny.
Well the best of them leaders you assholes followed are dead or dying and if you think they ever gave a shit about
you or yours you been fooled or labatamitisised.
I believe in one god and that is the dream there has to better or if not this is all a figment of our imaginations. But I
wasn’t born with any Guarantees or warrantees
Shit I can go on and on with this shit so listen to your priests, rabbi’s, ministers or ayatollahs preach to you their
reasons to rule your miserable life or happy one (since happiness is bliss) and you can go on their adventures that
they make up for you.
This is my shit and I didn’t listen to them damnd fools so you can burn this, read it or if printed this shit I wrote you
can always use it as toilet paper, rolling paper, ask me if I give a fuck.
•
•
Back to England.
Here I be in some part of London but at least they speak English in a funny dialect that I being a world traveler by
now was able to interpret with an English/ English-American pictionary.
I found a youth hostile somehow.
There being no one to knock on the cieling cause I used too much hot water, cause there wasn’t any. So fast
showers is what was to be.
Now when in Rome (u must have a clue to my rules by now).
I went out and found a pub. Guinness (warm) in hand, I disguise myself as a
Lyme.
(Having lived in the Sinai for many a months with 140 degree temperatures you got maybe two swills before your
beer was warm and by five, hot).
At 10 pm I noticed that they started to roll in the carpets in that part of town.
So much for a night out on town.
Up early I made my pans for the day.
Time for a map.
I locate Carnaby St. and off I go getting on a double Decker bus to down town or what I assumed was down town..
I found Carnaby St. and proceeded to window shop. I wasn’t going to buy a window or nothing else to put in my
pack so I guess I was more like browsing.
Looking for the Beetles and the Rolling stones I was greatly disappointed.
How about Abby Road could I find anyone famous there?
Well Carnaby St. was all of nothing compared to the Village and finding a street crossing didn’t seem like much of
an accomplishment so its off looking for kings or queens and dragons (or in Drag).
Time to go looking for the Queen.
After walking all around Buckingham palace and not getting invited in, I found myself disappointed again. I did see
some pompous guards all around the area so sneaking in without paying admission (if that was possible) appeared
to be out of the question.
Since getting caught I believe would have them tempted to lock me up in the dungeon, that not being on my
itinerary and on my list of not to do’s, I proceeded to hang my head down and find a place to sulk.
No map, dear me which way to head?
Nothing like a pub to sulk in.
I could have bought a derby and walking stick on Carnaby St.
That would have been a very London thing too do and might have gotten me an invite into Buckingham but I wasn’
t going back I had to go forward.
A few brews later and off I go to watch rush hour and check up on the birds, cause there weren’t any in that pub.
You might think I had a one track mind but my life was a lonely one and I was on a mission. That being to give all
the woman of the world the opportunity of my body and company.
Well at least the attractive ones.
Well disappointment must have been written in my Horror – Scope for that day because disguising myself as a
Lyme wasn’t working. Must have been not having a derby.
If I ever return to London I will invest in a derby. Maybe even a walking stick.
Well the joke is on all the rest of the tourists and reputation London has because I spent two weeks in London and
it only drizzled on me once. If I woulda made it to Spain I woulda stayed off the plain.
Well I stayed in them there parts until it was time to eat and waiting for evening action.
Well that was a waste of time cause there wasn’t much action.
Well it didn’t get any better that day. Because when they rolled in the carpets at 11 pm and I went to get a bus back
to the hostel, it was only to find out that the buses stop running about then.
Option 2, take a train right? Wrong the stations were gated closed.
It was hard to believe that a city like London rolled in the carpets at such an early hour.
Long walk back but I persevered, no Jack the rippers that night nor Mr. Jeckle or Mr. Hide’s hiding in the dark
foggy doorways (didn’t see any bloody fog in all the time I was in London either.
Well after I walked off more leather on my boots and running out of money a week or so later it was time to go to
American Express and trade in travelers checks and find a ride back to the rotten apple.
Bonanza! The checks I had bought a year and half in German Marcs for 4 marks to a dollar were now worth 2.5 per
dollar. Which amounted to about a $700 dollar bonus on the 1000 I had held onto. The Germans finaly helped me
out.
In the office I also ran into the group from Batten Rouge. The same people that I had met in Amsterdam in a bar.
Since I was looking for a ticket back to the Rotten apple and further discussing with one of the group, and being he
had a boarding pass to offer me at a great price, from shitland (England) to Batten Rouge Louisiana on their
chartered plane (as you can see England didn’t impress me much).
There was this dude who had broken his leg and had returned home earlier.
My luck was finally changing after so much disappointment in the months I spent in Europe. I made a deal to meet
him at Gatwick Airport a few days later and would pay him $35 if I got on the plane with the boarding pass and
when we get to duty free I would give him a commission of a bottle of whisky since he was negotiating for sorry
leg casted friend and me having the balls to take him down from 50 bucks to 35, the shameless backpacker I was.
Still my thoughts of going back to Europe puts the chances of returning as slim to none.
But shit happened and the chartered jet blew an engine on the take off runway just as we were about to take off.
Having not taken any drugs for the first time while flying, and adrenalin just trickling down after having to go
through the ticket counter where they just looked at my boarding pass and gave me a new one without a name on
it to get through customs. Just sitting and watching us taxi down the runway and the stop, then the roar of the
thrusting engines, no drugs no booze and the fear of flying had me on the edge of my seat when a loud boom
echoed through my ears and the thrusters were cut off and the takeoff didn’t happen.
Thinking of that flight now I realize that if that jet went down in the ocean and never found Nobody would have
known I was 6000 leagues under the sea and I woulda just been one more American just missing without a trace.
(Now that another reason for writing this shit down cause now I have learned what consequences can lay ahead of
us without ever thinking about what can happen if seconds in this mess we call life).
Offloaded from the plane and back into the terminal we just hung out and broke out the whisky and waited……..
and waited for Info. Finally (after hours) we were told that the engine wont get here for another day (or
replacement jet cant remember which).
Giving us new boarding passes without names we were bussed off to a hotel for the duration.
Thank me (me being god), I got to stay in the Gatwick Piccadilly Hotel with a TV in the room, 3 square meals and
the opportunity to steal an ashtray gold trimmed, that said Gatwick Piccadilly in gold leaf, I assume (being stamped
Rosenthal on the bottom) and a crystal beer mug. My Mother having a full set of Rosenthal China in her China
cabinet that she wouldn’t even let anyone help her wash the dishes when we had the big family dinners at my
house would be impressed with the ashtray I absconded with (as long as I didn’t mention how I obtained it, but I
doubt she didn’t figure out that I didn’t pay for it). But I had learnt from her past escapades when we stayed in
fancy hotels that if she encountered an ashtray or article in her room that she really liked she would ask the clerk
at check out if she could buy it and in her so tactful request, that nobody would have the balls to take her money
or say no to her request.
That was never acting on her part, which was the real way she was. I don’t know how much of her great
personality rubbed off on me but I didn’t get my conscience from my fathers’ selfish actions I have witnessed.
Nobody in my 50+ years has left much of an impression on me as she did and don’t expect anyone I will ever
encounter will.
If there is any goodness in me it is all my mothers’ upbringing.
I wasn’t in any rush to leave anyway it was just getting the ticket so cheap that led me to return to the US of A and
that I was bored of that fuckin continent.
Back in the USA
Let me tell ya how I landed in the rotten apple again. The next day a new engine installed we boarded the plane
and were informed that the route was to be changed since the crew had been on duty for all they could (law
provided) and they rescheduled the flight. So we landed in some butfuck air port in Southern Pennsylvania. Ok
back to history I was born in Philly, so says my birth certificate. I probably should have stayed and waited to keep
on going to Batten Rouge but the fucker who’s boarding pass I bought for a lousy 35 bucks had his friend bring
back his luggage on the plane. (The fucker who had broken his leg and was shipped back to the USA) Well déjà-vu,
it time to detour left.
How it happened was they busted a friend or foe of his for a hash pipe in his luggage when he was secretly
exposed by suspecting eyes of trying to throw it out in a trash can when he saw it on inspection. It looked like
giant vultures attacked a 50 gallon trashcan full of fresh bloody meat as the cops came outta the woodwork
surrounding the can , searching for the evidence of a suspected drug smuggler. (Well if ya don’t know, in this
luxurious land of ours when a plane lands from overseas it has to disembark [a fancy way of saying get the fuck
off] all passengers and crew and pass through customs). Well with little time to debate weather to continue to
Batten Rouge, having cleared customs myself just thinking of a plan for my future seeing his classmates there to
try and help him explain his way out of a midnight express nightmare I exited and headed for the highway.
Being a stow-a-way on a smugglers boarding pass with a criminal conviction listed with Interpol and such I didn’t
have the curiosity to find out the results or say thanks for the lift and hospitality for my adventure outta Shitland.
I still wonder what happened to the sucker who was kind enough to bring his shit home to him and offer me the
great opportunity of almost landing in prison (had I had helped with the luggage and stayed on line with him.
Well I saved about 200 bucks a luxurious day at the Piccadilly and 3 square meals on his bad luck. I didn’t need to
implicate him in what I don’t know if it is a crime or not to sell someone’s boarding pass but sure as shit with one
look at my criminal record if interrogated I sure as shit wasn’t going on that jet to Batten Rouge. Telling myself I
gotta get the fuck off this trip.
The door out to the street looked heavy as gates but were electric and opened to freedom, Back in the USA, well
being that the stories and interviews were going on as I breathed the air of PA and with quick thinking I got in a cab
and told the driver to take me to town. I had to make distance had I have come up in the smuggler confession.
Had things gone different my whole life might have been different.
Contemplating proceeding to Batten Rouge and head off to Cali-fool-ya where I initially started out for, when that
first illegal ticket came to me to bring me to new continents and a world of experiences and still couldn’t find my
way home.
Well the divine destiny of life gave me a new direction. Home to mama and time to make a new plan.
Old plan just took me on a trip and adventure but I still didn’t have a home nor reach Cali. Maybe I never wanted to
have one and just be a wanderer.
Somehow I found the highway and headed to the Rotten Apple.
Maybe it was to see my mom and let her see that I was still intact. Maybe I missed my niece and nephew and all
that family shit I never felt other than with my mom until my niece and nephew came along.
Had the plane gone direct to Batten Rouge LA. I might have gone to Cali-fool-ya but if ya read on who knows
where I woulda wound up because my next attempt to go there got diverted too.
So I be back on the road again hitching a ride to the Rotten Apple.
Back in the rotten Apple
Here after hitching down the road outta butfuck PA. I get to where my parents live. They are living there
(Remember I cant find my way home).
Well memory lapses a little but I wind up living with my folks again in this condo in fuckin Yonkers NY.
I get to meet these neighbors, one a hard ass old-man, another (think he was gay) poor shmuck (poor was cause
he was a loser).
Me being the poor one, I meet up with this couple Bob & Fern and my wife to be. What a community.
Well Fern, being a med student and Bob being in the diamond business gets me a job in the family buz.
Ok right I slept on the fuckin autobahn, in date trees under the stars, in a fuckin desert where I tasted sand with
every meal for months and ya ain’t seen nothing till ya see, feel and breath a sandstorm.
Somehow me and my father tolerated each other and I got my old bedroom back but having to share it being it
was now his office.
I had lived there for a whole two months before he threw me out a few years ago.
Well I don’t remember my plans or believe I was just stopping in to visit and move on but I was thinking of work
for a while before I left and get some more of that capitalist food stocked up before I moved on to my next
adventure.
Somehow an offer came from Bob as to working for his family business.
Now here I am working on 47th St. in the Diamond District and I mean “The Diamond District”.
The diamond district.
Now I be riding up the elevator with these smelly Hasidim Jews and proceeded going into this office with doors
that ya enter, then have to wait for the first door to close and lock to receive admission to get past the 2nd door to
gain entrance to the reception office. Right, I be on one of the best policed street in the world with security just
about everywhere.
I had interviews before but always as an insider except when I was a cashier at a supermarket. The only reason I
took that job was to get close to this twirler in HS.
So now I get to sit with these three brothers (Bob’s father the boss and his brothers) Sternly looking at me and
giving me the 3rd degree. (They forgot to ask me about previous convictions).
Well I wasn’t intimidated or ill at ease because I didn’t have a clue as to what I was being hired to do.
Well I past mustard and was invited into the secret sanction of the family business and had to agree not to anyone
what I saw, knew or learnt in this secret sanction of improving the quality of the flaws that nature left behind that
diffracted light and the brilliance of the hardest element on this planet. (So I been told)
In all the time I was there nobody but family passed the reception office into the domain of the secret lab of
removing flaws but me. So I had a new family, which gave me new cousins.
I was taken to a desk in one of the offices and told the beginning process of enhancing the brilliance of a diamond.
Back then I was told we were the only ones who had the equipment and knowledge to do what we were doing
other than their Brussels and Israeli offices.
They must have been desperate to hire me or maybe it was my aura of personality that got me into those inner
sanctions or the business.
Now 35 years later I don’t think it is a secret any longer but I do feel I earned my own respect in never being
tempted to steal any of those rocks.
Besides We never handled a perfect diamond in the inner offices.
There was this back room where we sparked and soaked the diamonds that had been drilled and had probably
never been cleaned other than the counters.
Since I spent the most time in and out of that room I decided it needed a sweeping.
When I suggested it I was told to hold off, which is what I did.
Next day one of Bobs uncles came to me with a broom and dust pan and handing it to me (oy vey as they say in
Yiddish I was elected to do the job).
Well with my watchman doing what a watchman does best who don’t see worth a shit did his job and watched me
clean the room.
As it turned out I encountered a number of lost stones in the years of dust I sifted through and handed them over
with no haste.
I guess after that I earned the trust of everyone in the family and I wasn’t watched so closely anymore. At least not
to my knowledge. Getting a good salary from the start there were benefits to keep me from being greedy.
One of which was, I was offered a loan for a new car.
Now never ever contemplating buying a new car for a long time was like thunder striking my whole future.
What avenues we take in our thoughts are a wonder how the mind works.
There being no one I could discuss any of what went through my mind or at least considered, put my mind in
turmoil.
So to figure out why I was to do what I was to do is just how my thought process malfunctions. And for this I can
never see creating a computer that can think or do more than compute.
Back to the beginning of the job as wire tech.
Here is where I get a good laugh. This was to be what I spent months doing.
I’m sticking wires into diamonds. Ok, sounds weird but it served a purpose. But lets back up, I had a desk, got a
couple loops (loopty-do) if ya don’t know what a loop is, well look it up. I could say I was a laser tech bum with a
desk full of diamonds.
Well the wire was 1000th of an inch diameter and the hole about 500th , The wire was made of platinum and with
tweezers I was sticking pieces of wire in the holes to clean out the holes we drilled in the diamonds. Ok I ain’t
gonna tell ya the formula for taking out imperfections of diamonds but just giving ya history as to what helped
make me the #1 asshole I be.
Eventually I graduated to be a (laser tech?) I was drilling the fuckin diamonds.
But still had to stick the fucking platinum wire in the holes when they were ready to get sparked by an electric
sparker.
So here I am a tech. sticking sometimes as many as 10 wires, tweezers and loop in hand on the surface of maybe
a 1 carat diamond.
I had a desk full of diamonds with holes (LMAO), well that shit got old so here we are again back on the road to
Caly-form-ya.
See one day I woke up and I knew I was going nowhere in the direction of being what I turned out to be. So my
state of mind was do I buy a Fiat spider that I was waiting for until I saw the new Dotson 240Z that just came out
and get myself into the responsibility of a loan………….. Shit there was that big word RESPONSABILITY.
My mind took off into all kinds of hallucinogenic thoughts as to motives of why I was so lucky to get funded to a
new car.
My mother would take nothing from me. What the fuck was I doing and where would it get me. Was I weaving
myself into a web of obligations?
Was I joining the establishment of the working class?
Well after my mom refused to let me give her my money to buy a Mink Coat that she was begging my father for,
what use was I?
Should I have just gone and bought it for her and stuck my self in the Datzon 240Z and NY the Rotten Apple?
I had graduated from being a rich kid that got whatever he desired to a ?????
Well standing by and watching your mom die from cancer and not being able to do anything at all aint fun and it
don’t help that she wouldn’t let me do anything.
Did I just cop out or did I just make it easier for her to not have me around to watch her suffer?
Do I still carry guilt as to my actions in my 22 years of life that I just received from that great woman or more for
the compassion she gave me and the RESPOSOBILITY she was trying to fulfill to her son’s happiness.
I will never know nor will I ever forget what she did for me in all those years.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
_______________________________
I gave up the Datzon 240Z that Bob’s father was gonna loan me the money to buy.
If I took the loan I would get stuck sticking wires in diamonds and drilling holes for who knows how many years.
Paranoia set in. I had to get outta dodge and even my mother wouldn’t take my money from me.
Well she always wanted a mink coat and I offered her all of my almost $2,000+ bucks I saved but she wouldn’t take
it at that point and now I had more money.
I had overstayed my welcome (never with my Mom).
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
____
So off I went.
I packed my Boy Scout knapsack once again and hit the road again.
Nothing much must had happened between the rotten apple (NY) and Georgia cause I only remember hitching
down the I till we turned off to Georgia at some point after a few rides.
I arrived in Atlanta GA. Searched around town until I found the bus terminal and found a locker in the Grey Hound
bus station and put my pack in a locker and went to take a piss. Not much of a mission right?
Well every fucking dealer had an office in that station. Atlanta was the pharmacy of the south. Funny that my ex is
living in Atlanta now, 34 yrs later.
I escaped temptation and saved my money and walked out into the dangerous streets of Atlanta, where I
encountered a cop, feeling safe? I asked where can I find a bar to hang out in and his response was so sincere to
this day I feel sorry for this world I was brought into.
Basically he told me where not to go. One was a nigger bar (those were his words) the other was a red-neck bar (I
looked like a hippy I guess) and I don’t remember what the 3rd place he pointed me towards was, so I got on a bus
to New Orleans the next day.
Well I coulda stayed on that plane to Batten Rouge from England and not have to give up my eyesight to the loop
and holes in diamonds and give up that 240Z. But here I am in a YMCA hotel in Grant Circle (if it wasn’t Grant it
musta been Lee, guess I got a deserved C in history) but I got some good basketball games there while I stayed
there. But as going out in the forbidden land of N.O., shit they carded me, Here I am 21+ and they made me go
back to get my ID and it was only 18 to drink, the legal age in the times of the dinosaurs, well fuck them.
I went back to the civil war circle “Y” and got my passport to match my NYS drivers license that said I was 5’8”
when I was 15 and NY being slow on updating shit on a license other than driver infractions. In 6 yrs and spending
½ of a day every so often waiting on line to renew the license you are privileged to receive, Being just a peace of
paper that says maybe you know how to drive as bad as everyone else. So I produced my documents and got to
get into some sleazy bars.
Somewhere I ran into this kangaroo (Australian) and left the misfits of N.O to themselves. We were both heading
south or at least west.
Hooking up with a travel companion was cheaper and safer in some ways.
We got to Huston TX somehow hitching, well that place sucked so we left the next day and headed south
to…………and wound up in Austin TX (remember when you are hitching you never know how far or even if you get
out of town you gonna end up). I think Austin was in my destiny because I would get there a few times in the
future.
We hung out there for a while meeting a bunch of woman and me meeting a Cherokee Indian.
I never forgot how beautiful and serious the oppressed can be.
Why do I get impacted by the oppressed? Look at my marriage and the rest of my story and maybe you can figure
it out if I haven’t.
The weather is changing from what was nice and moderate and now it’s getting cold (like snow flurries) and I
think this was too fuckin cold and this Roo from the land down under was heading to Mexico, so well what the
fuck Cali-form-ya can wait to heat up, so off on the road we go to taco land, tortilla territory.
We get a ride on some fucking road in TX and waiting for the next ride watching the flurries skirt the black top,
when what do ya know? There are 3 big (remember I’m 6’2”) black dudes that stopped to offer us white boys a ride
and proceeded to open the trunk of something like a big ass Olds. There we are about to put our back packs
amongst this color TV and 3 shotguns.
I need not tell ya that they didn’t kill or rob us or that would be another chapter or two here,
Well they were real nice, since they didn’t shoot us and gave us a ride, so all I got to add to this shit is I don’t judge
peep’s cause of color or accent cause bad and good come in all forms colors and genders.
My motto is “that I love all flavors of woman”. But men got their place and they better kept there cause they ain’t
got tits. They didn’t offer us collard greens or chitins’ so we never got to find out what made them so big, but big
they seemed especially knowing the guns in the trunk.
Guess they sized us up and figured our cloths were too small for their kids.
Well we bare the cold and arrive at the Alamo town in TX San Antonio where I needed to stand my grounds, lock
and load for what would be in my future voyage, unto the land of the adversaries “The Mexican’s”. of whom we
stole their land and now their people we smuggle into the good ole US of A, which we pay little but more than their
own brethren.
Well if ya like kick dancing and a dance partner that likes hitting ya in the Adams apple with her cow girl hat and
get hit in the back of the head by some dude with another cow pokers hat behind ya it the place for you, not me.
(Get too close and get hated, but guess that better than a gun in your face in the rotten apple). I shoulda bought
that derby in London, the steel brimmed one. (Or was that a bowler)?
Well I woke up another day and knew I was gone.
Well I ain’t sure why Sam Houston and Dave Bowie and the rest the gang stayed to fight at that location for but that
town wasn’t for me. (Know that I got a C in history in HS so if I get the wrong peeps names mixed up, oh well ya
got one on me).
Our next ride was a gringo heading over the border who was wise enough to throw us out berore the crossing into
Mex. He let us do our little jog into the confusion of the new terrain at the border where we were about to enter
into the land with different values, cultures spirits and god (that be me) only knows.
Wise choice he was a nice guy and not a fool, cause who knows what one has in possession of their shit.
As I was later to experience as to Mex. Justice, possession is 9/10th of the law.
And believe me 1/10th don’t do much for ya.
Ok now I’m about to enter Mexico, so I start my Spanish lessons, that what I had learned watching the Lone
Ranger. That took a few minutes, as I pot memory put my vocabulary up to three words.
Well if ya interested, Cali-fool-Ya was a little to the northwest but the heat/sun was south. So south bound I was.
Well it ain’t cool to hitch across borders/customs for either hitcher or passenger.
So me and the Roo from the land down under left our ride and proceeded across the border and wound up it butt f’
k Monterey Mex.
I’d seen enough peasants and churches world wide.
After a walk thru the market that day I was done.. Show me the way to the next whisky bar.
Good nights sleep after ya get your bed mates swatted out of bed and scratch your flea ridden body your up to
the next mornings project and get your ass on the road to the next ride down the dusty road.
We wound up in a small town in some place in North MX. And learnt the next whisky bar was called a “Cantina” in
MX’n. I cant say Spanish cause I was to learn they got lots of names for watering holes including a trough or such
for horses in TX..
We being the only gringos (even Roo’s get called gringos along with all white peeps from north of the Alamo or
other continents).
Sitting and drinking a warm beer. (That describes the size of a town South of the border, we found ourselves wind
up in). Sipping beer with a bunch of peasants with displaying great hospitality and a lot of questions, having us as
new entertainment for the night, they proceeded to invite a couple puta’s (hoes) over to entertain us.
Good thing it was dark cause the one holding onto my dick was just what a plump Chicana probably looked like.
Now I was up to a 6 word vocabulary and pushed cerveza to the top of my vocabulary list. That and not swallowing
the worm in mescal still remains on the bottom of my list as things to do.
There is a long list of things not to do and can only tell ya jail was the #1 thing never to do. But yet I wound up in
Jail in MX. But only to buy a hammock out of an 8” hole they let the prisoners sell them from. But that comes later.
Well don’t worry I didn’t buy the puta other than a beer although it felt good having a hand on my dick and tits in
my face.
I think we wound up next in St. Louis Portase' next or it coulda been the other way around with Monterey 2nd and
St. Louis first but you could have named either of them anything cause at that time they were pueblos to me and
as most of Central America seemed to me at the time. And as MX is, ya just don’t see all that much of a difference
in most of the area other than climates and terrain.
They all have the same small looking towns with a center court in the center of town and a market selling like shit
but nothing as bad as an Arab fly ridden market that I was afraid enough to breath in let alone take the risk of
eating anything they have to offer.
There we get invited to a hacienda for lunch by a very pleasant family and spent the night in a guest house. They
even spoke some English. And we spent a cordial night trying to communicate with our hosts in broken English
using my 6 words of spanglish and drinking whisky which I didn’t have a taste for at that time in my life.
After a large meal and a bottle of whisky which we couldn’t go to bed without finishing off, we went to our rooms
in the guest house, which consisted of just a bedroom, bathroom and a living room.
Only to find out that the servant’s quarter next door had an adjoining door to my room.
I guess I got special room service because the maid came in and joined me in my bed after a little while.
I don’t do details, so I will just say I didn’t throw her out of the bed. Nor did I complain in the morning during bkfst
with our host after having received such nice hospitability and service yet again.
To this day I don’t know if she was sent to my room or just a volunteer.
Another motto is, don’t look a gift horse in the eye. Me. never kissing and telling is just another show of respect of
others, so it has never been mentioned till now.
Another town conquered and now we are off to the big city, “Mexico City”.
Hitching into the mountains where the air is thin and the smog thick as shit, we arrive in what is a major city of our
new world.
I proceed to go out only to discover that ya can barley breath at rush hour in my solo morning discovery walk in
downtown MX city.
Traffic seems so much like the sea. (We call it disturbed seas). As in when you don’t have swells coming from one
direction but from all directions and get beaten to shit from bouncing around cause you isn’t a rhythm.
One day I’d like to get caught out in disturbed seas with a woman and have a very competent captain and ride the
disturbed seas, with her just for the experience.
I always got stuck, either being the captain or with just guys so maybe I should make it a goal.
I think the chances of disappointment are great cause with my luck she would get sea sick and puke on me. (If ya
gonna try, take condoms and Dramamine with you for better chances of success). Or the chance of getting a
broken dick.
In my wondering I found the zoo and a museum and explored them both. Well a zoo is a Zoo and a museum is a
museum and after 100’s of them I ain’t sure why you return other than to hope to see something else ya ain’t seen
yet or that lonely lady looking for entertainment or a lover.
I don’t recall anything much new so as I didn’t take notes, all I can say is I was there.
Well now I had been to the zoo and a museum chocked up by the thin air heavy smog and smoking lucky strike
ciggs didn’t help much.
I left out the pack of camel’s incident that I bought in Dallas from a vending machine. A little while later in a
restaurant I noticed that the ciggs were like ¾ full (weon filter smokers pack down our ciggs before we open the
pack). As I proceeded to try and pack one of the ciggs a little bit better out jumps a tobacco worm. Gross right?
Especially since I smoked nearly ½ the pack (and besides, the ciggs. tasted real stale). Well I changed brands that
night to Lucky Strikes and proceeded to mail that pack to RJ Remolds or whoever makes them and years later had
two cartons awaiting me in f’kn Yonkers NY, gratis from The Camel Co.
Ok I love interjecting this shit and that is why I am writing all this shit down as so I can defrag my mind and clean
up files.
If it ain’t appealing to your style it’s definitely time to stop here!!!!!!!!!!
Now that you have been warned, because I don’t think I’ll ever spend the time to organize all this shit and even if I
do I’ll keep this original to remind me of how my memory works as long as it be working.
Now I am off on another mission in Mexico City.
Don’t remember what the Roo went to do but I had a mission to do since I was in the vicinity.
At that point he went his way and I went mine and found a room alone in down town Mex. City.
One night I went out for a walk, checking out the action and what the f’k people do other than breathe in carbon
monoxide and found myself being stalked by some dude in a Cady El Dorado.
Well I was intimidated by gays in those days who always seemed to think I was some kind of chicken so I told the
fucker to bug off but he was persistent bugger so after a while I picked up a trash can and threw it into his window.
Well I ain’t sure I was aiming for the window but he got the point.
That took out the fun of looking for entertainment in the city so I was off on another mission the next day.
Last I heard my old time friend, neighbor and Boy Scout buddy, knowing his sorry ass since I was 5 yrs. Old, was
in med school in MX. So I called my mom to ask her to call his mom and find out where he be.
Well years later I found out he was in Guadalajara doing med school there. So I missed him there but caught up to
him and his wife yrs. later.
One of my last visits before I went to the mid-east and Europe was to his wifes’ and in-laws house to say good
bye. Having been friends with his wife’s cousin and spent a lot of time with all in the cafeteria and neighborhood in
HS we were part of the last of the Canarsie’s group and were on my farewell tour of leaving the Rotten Apple.
Well my drug dealing roomies were part of the group and having left them years ago only to return figured I keep
in some sort of touch where they informed me that he was in MX doing med. School.
Before I had my first tour of the world and had no home and was leaving they offered me an apt. seeing that I was
lost and lonely and couldn’t find my way home. But I was on the run and had to get outta the rotten apple. See, I
wanted to be lost don’t ya?
Anyway it was too late I was outta there.
Now the sucker is a surgeon general last I talked to him. Actually he is now the Director of a part of one of the big
chain hospitals in L.I., NY.
Where to next?
After not finding Dr. K, hanging my head, not knowing where to go to next and splitting with the Roo from the land
down under. He had his agenda or just tired of doing the road trip with me cause I don’t remember what his was
but that is part of being alone and not being able to find my way home.
Ok now Acapulco, the ocean resorts, beaches and chicks in bikini’s, that sounds like a goal.
Always seems good but the warnings of guerillas in the mountains between the coast and the city leads to
apprehension but what the fuck I been to many a war zone in my life so what was one more?
In those days the news was that there were Guerillas (probably with the support of Castro) in the mountains
between Mexico City and Acapulco, so hitching was outta the question so it was time to get on a bus.
What a long ride it was is all I remember till I arrived in Acapulco, as it was some time after 10 pm when I arrived.
Oops now where do I go right?
As I had heard it ain’t so safe in Acapulco, I figured I had to get my guard up. Stores seemed to be all closed but I
was sure there would be a cantina open but ya can’t buy spinach in a cantina so I strolled down the road clueless
as to where to go to or what direction to head in.
Well luck pulled up in VW Thing. The cheapest thing VW could build.
As it happened these two gringos ask me what the f' I was doing out in the worst part of Acapulco so late (with 55
lbs on my back), so I answered “looking for a place to crash”. What the F else would some gringo be doing there
with a back-pack?
Dumb question but guess it a way to start a conversation.
Ok now who were these friendlies?
Well what the fuck they gotta be better than the banditos from the mountains.
I just had faith in people who didn’t stick a gun in my face, so they told me of a place where I could get a place and
invited me for a ride there, so I jumped in back, pushed over a few six-packs of beer and held on for the ride to…..
Damn the road was dark as shit and about 25 clicks later, south of the city we arrived on a beach.
Having arrived at the beach, they stopped the Thing where we all got out and they proceeded to knock on the door
of this house waking up el dueño (the boss) and asked they asked him to give me a room.
Too kool, I didn’t get mugged tossed out in the middle of the road robbed or murdered but got a hut with a cot for
all of two bits.
Well sleep time, after a beer or two and happy that I made 2 friends and on the beach wherever the fuck it
happened to be. I was clueless but I slept and found out in the morning.
I was in Puesta Del Sol (interprets to place of the sun set). Known for the cliff divers, lots of beach and the 2nd
generation of our culture: “Backpackers”.
At Woodstock we were hippies but we richer hippies with some education who didn’t want to go to communes
found ourselves looking for a better life than 9 to 5 so we wound up on beaches with lots of sun and more beach
ahead.
ONE MORNING i WOKE UP AND i KNEW i WAS GONE
bY CAPTAIN CARL
bY CAPTAIN CARL
| Want to read mone? send an e-mail and I let you get up on the. rest for now since i am still editing |
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