Prologue Three, A Trip in New York

Days went by and I heard nothing from Doug, I tried calling Mike's apartment everyday but there was no answer.

I knew something bad was happening simply from lack of any news, Doug would never fuck me over and if he did that was bad enough. I didn't know Mike that well and I began to wonder if he had anything to do with the trouble. I was really concerned for Doug because the last time I saw him he had a gut full of 150 ecstasy pills.

After about 5 days I had a message waiting for me at the front desk of the hostel. It was from Mike asking to call him urgently, his number was changed.

I went to a nearby phone booth to call Mike and he answered on the second ring, he sounded relieved to hear from me. He began to recount what was happening the last few days.

Mike said that Doug had called him from Amsterdam shortly before boarding his flight,  telling him when he was arriving to New York. Mike assured Doug that he would be home and to come right over. Doug was to be at Mikes house sometime in the evening of his arrival.

Mike waited for Doug and he never showed up, after another day of waiting Mike was so paranoid he changed his number and threw mine away. He thought he was going to get busted.

Almost two days later Doug showed up at Mike's apartment, he was filthy and not alone. With Doug was another man that was equally filthy but didn't appear homeless.

Mike was nervous and extremely confused, he was not expecting this odd company. Doug told Mike that everything was okay and that the other guy with him was his associate. This struck Mike to be odd since no other person was mentioned in all this, but invited the both of them in anyway.

Mike immediately regretted his decision when he saw how strange they were acting, it was very obvious they were on drugs. Mike began to wonder when Doug was going to show him the pills from Amsterdam, but didn't ask because of the other guy.

Not long after his arrival Doug went into the bathroom and started vomiting, retching so badly that Mike thought he was dying. The other man that came with Doug didn't pay attention or seem to care. That was an instant red flag for Mike. Doug wouldn't answer the door when Mike knocked, so he opened it to see what was happening.

Doug was prostrated over the side of the bathtub retching and fighting for breath, his body seemed to think throwing up was more of a priority over breathing. Mike was in absolute shock at what he was seeing.

Coming out of Doug's mouth were strands of plastic wrap and condoms, in a mixture of blue froth. The blue was from the coloring in the pills. Doug was fervently pulling at the mixture of plastic and rubber trying to clear it from his throat, trying to unblock his breathing. Mike watched in horror as Doug finally freed the mess from his throat and vomited some more. It was the same blue froth, and nothing else.

Mike didn't know what to do, he wanted to ask me for advice. When Mike exited the bathroom he saw that the strange guy with Doug was not there. A quick glance around and nothing looked like it was missing, but Mike didn't have anything of value to steal. A Sony boom box was his most valuable item, and it was safely in the bedroom

Mike instantly regretted changing his number because he quickly realized he had thrown mine out too. All ties of communication were severed and he needed to speak with me urgently.

When he went back to Doug to ask him if he knew the number, Doug appeared to be sleeping on the floor. He was breathing and a little restless, but much better than before. Mike took comfort that the puking was over and that Doug would probably be alright. He left Doug on the bathroom floor, where he laid for several hours. Mike checked in on him several times, but Doug was so out of it.

Finally after about 5 or 6 hours, Doug started to come around. He was still really confused about what was happening around him, Mike never cleaned up the mess in the bathroom. Upon realizing what happened to the pills in his stomach, Doug started to panic. Mike had another round of fear of getting into trouble, but manned up and asked Doug if he wanted an ambulance. Doug strongly refused the medical attention and asked for a glass of water instead.

When Mike asked if had spoken with me at any time before showing up, Doug told him no. Doug began telling Mike about everything that happened since he left Amsterdam. The story was incredible, sometimes childish. Doug was really, really high on MDMA, and he was lucky to be alive.

From what Mike could make out from Doug's story, somewhere over the Atlantic during the flight Doug decided to take LSD. The flight was about 6 hours long but it wasn't until he was at JFK International Airport when the acid hit, and hard. Doug still didn't make it through customs yet and he was tripping so hard that he forgot to get his checked bag. He walked directly in the direction of the pointing arrows indicating the exit, Doug needed to just get out.

To great credit to Doug, he was smart enough to understand that he was about to enter the country via customs, and needed to tighten up. When it was Doug's turn in line to see the customs agent, he showed his passport and was let into the country no questions asked.

Doug continued walking towards the exits, the airport was busy with travelers and other hub bub that was too hard to take.

Doug's story about the subsequent events upon leaving are vague and hazy. There was no chronological order and odd references to landmarks that aren't even in New York.

Apparently he got into a taxi from the airport and was dropped off somewhere in Manhattan. From there he met all kinds of friends and went on fun adventures with them, taking more LSD and handing some out to his new friends.

Sometime later Doug realized he was in New York, and that he knew Mike. It was never established if he knew that he was supposed to actually meet Mike, but he did remember Mike's address and wanted to visit. Somehow, after all that time, Doug managed to show up at Mike's with a new friend.

After the story and a lot of persuasion, Doug gave Mike my number in Amsterdam and begged him not to call me. He asked for a pack of tarot cards and some rosary beads instead, on that note Mike secretly called me from downstairs.

After some discussion about what was happening, Mike and I think that the condoms started to break during the flight. Instead of panic, Doug was getting really high. Why Doug wasn't killed from an overdose, we guessed the condoms acted as a slow-release mechanism because there were still a lot of semi-undigested pills in the puke.

Doug is a smart man, I've known him long enough to know that he wouldn't drop acid on an international flight. That's why I think the condoms were compromised during the flight, Doug started getting high and ready to party. Started to get stupid.

Since the next few days of Doug's story was so bizarre, we could only assume correctly that Doug was balls out candy flipping, high on a strong combination of MDMA and good Dutch LSD.

Before hanging up with Mike we agreed to just let Doug be, let him get through whatever weirdness he was going through. I apologized profusely and we kept in telephone contact for the next 24 hours.

About two days later Doug called me in Amsterdam, Mike told me he was going to call me so I was expected the call. Doug was extremely ashamed and began telling me what happened to him.

Ch 1, Pg 5 - The Greyhound Bus

I've been organizing everything for my trip lately, it may not be as easy as I was planning. My greatest obstacle is money, which really isn't that bad because I just have to wait to get my monthly check in a few days. If I had the money right now I could be on the road already. For me, waiting has always been difficult.

As far as a ride, that seems easier than I thought it would be. I've contacted several people on Craigslist's rideshare section, apparently finding someone going to or through Las Vegas from Portland should be no problem. Initially I was worried because at first glance there were no rides directly to Vegas, it would have sucked to have to organize connecting rides.

Regardless if I find a ride or not, once I get my check I can always buy a bus ticket. I'd rather not though, riding the bus sucks.

The "Dirty Dog", also known as The Greyhound Bus can present many experiences both good and bad. I've rode that bus from New York to El Paso, from El Paso to Portland... The longest bus trip I've taken was from Portland, Oregon to Tampa, Florida, the entire diagonal of the United States.

Even though we're not supposed to, I drink liquor on the bus. To disguise it I buy a handle of vodka and pour it into a gallon water jug, almost filling it. I actually drink vodka straight out of the bottle right in front of Greyhound employees and station guards. When I make friends on the bus, which can be pretty easy with a gallon of vodka, we'll pass the clear plastic jug around and get lit.

Besides the fun that can be had riding the bus, it can be the most uncomfortable experience. There can be some assholes on the bus sometimes, and the driver is always grumpy and bossy. I can't stand when the driver gets on the PA as we're leaving the station and starts going over the rules of the bus. I understand the rules must be discussed for the new travelers, but the bus driver has to always make some big long aggravating speech about the rules.

The rules of the bus are easy to learn and follow. They could easily be laid out in less than 3 minutes, stating each rule precisely and with pinpointing explanations why each rule exists.

But no, the bus driver doesn't do that. The driver will talk forever with over-explanations and personal reason behind each rule. I've been on a bus when the driver spoke about the rules for almost an hour. That was one of the most awful bus riding experiences I had to endure. This driver was a man, I would guess in is 50s. He was bossy and uptight with an annoying sounding voice, the combination of this power drunk's voice and attitude pissed me off. I can't stand authority figures that abuse their power.

Thankfully, the average bus driver's rules-rant only lasts about 15 minutes, which is bullshit when 3 minutes are enough.

The rules for Greyhound are:

1.No drinking alcohol (which I ignore)

2.No smoking anywhere on the bus, including the toilet.

3.No loud talking across the bus

4.No loud music or other mobile device sound.

5.Keep talk on the phone to a minimum and be quiet about it.

6.Pick up your trash after yourselves as a courtesy to others.

7.Don't talk to the driver while he's driving.

Simple. These rules, in my personal opinion, don't take fucking 15 minutes to go on and on about.

I hope I don't have to take the Dirty Dog when I leave for Las Vegas, but I absolutely will if I can't hook up with a rideshare when I'm paid.

In the meantime as I've been planning the trip, a lot has happened. Been to a couple of huge family parties celebrating the usual assortment of life milestones. One party I decided not to drink, others I got pretty drunk.

I just have to wait for my money to set this off, get on the road again.

Ch 1, Pg 4 - St Patrick's Day

I'm sitting in a sports bar at the moment, I would snap some pics but I'm by myself and that would look weird. There's a lot of people in the bar tonight for a Monday night, appears they're celebrating St. Patrick's Day. Everyone's wearing some sort of green getup, assorted green scarves and green hats. A young girl was at the door handing out green plastic hats for a buck, I politely declined.

Holy shit, I'm just noticing that with everything that's been going on, I forgot it was St. Paddies Day. At this very moment as I write this, most of the entire nation of Ireland is drunk. Pretty sweet observation because for a boring Monday night in Portland, it's exciting to know that there is place at the very moment where everyone is partying like no tomorrow.

I came into the bar because of boredom, and I really needed a drink. I don't normally frequent this bar, even though it's a two minute walk away from my house…three minutes if I have to wait at the crosswalk.

I've been laying off the alcohol for the last three or four weeks, the whole situation with the woman living with me kept me from drinking. I don't like to drink when life is not right, and the woman made my life very not right.

I am an alcoholic, alcohol is a drug that I have a problem controlling. I love its reassuring warmth, its comforting effect during times of stress or doubt.

Alcohol can have effects on my personality that I don't particularly like, effects such as dulling my ability to give a shit. That is why I have been refraining from drinking, I didn't want to make any foolish mistakes. I know me, had I been drinking during this woman trouble I would of made a lot of costly mistakes because of alcohol.

Sometimes in my life, the only time I will drink is if I am awake. This can be a very strict rule, one that if not obeyed will send me into DTs. Usually when I reach this point I know it's time to stop drinking, too much control is lost.

Now that the woman has a new place to stay and I am free to travel, I think I'm in a better state of mind and can be drunk again.

**************** Next Day ***************

The bar was a lot of fun, I didn't know anyone and was writing this post when a group of people sat with me. I was sitting alone at a table near the back, the group saw I was alone on my tablet and wanted me to drink with them. I knew this because when they approached me, they filled my glass with beer from their pitcher.

St. Patrick's Day rules! I absolutely cannot believe I let that slip by, even more incredible is I didn't miss it. It was a good thing I felt like drinking last night, otherwise I would have missed out.

I ended up drinking all the night with the group that approached me, very nice folks in their 30s. There were two women and three men, two couples and the single dude. All the other ladies in the bar seemed to be with someone too, so I settled for drinking and talking with my new friends. I had some weed on me so we all went outside occasionally to get high, it was a really nice time.

The plan is still on, Las Vegas at the end of the month when I get paid. Not long, two more weeks from now and I'll be there. I have to just hang on and be patient.

Prologue Two, Amsterdam

When Doug and I arrived to Amsterdam we were still exhausted from New York, the sleep I got on the plane wasn't enough. Luckily the hostel we were staying at was a 2 minute walk from the Centraal Station, Amsterdam's main rail station. Immediately after getting our beds in the hostel dorm, we slept for almost two days.

The dorm we were staying in had 12 beds, and was busy with coming and going backpackers from all over the world. Eventually after enough rest, Doug and I was able to move again to meet our roommates and walk around the city.

Hostel living was awesome, especially in Amsterdam. Doug and I ended up living there for several weeks, even doing a little work there helping keep the beds filled with tourists. The gig was more for fun than money, but it was nice to not have to pay our own rent anymore. The work was simple too, all we did was hang out at the train station and pass out flyers to the droves of tourists coming to town.

During this time I was partying too, hash and weed was sold in coffee shops everywhere and first rate ecstasy was being sold for 15 guilders a pill by Turkish dealers in the clubs. At that price, that equated to about 7 dollars a pill… much less than the 30 dollars in New York. Some simple calculations got Doug and I thinking.

Doug and I started to discuss the option of buying a quantity of ecstasy and selling it in New York, with a markup of 23 dollars, or a 300% profit. It's not like we were broke and hard up for money, but what I was missing was action. The idea of going to New York with a mess of pills just sounded too cool.

Working at the hostel gave us the advantage of getting good connections, ecstasy being the most abundant. At that time, in the mid 90s, ecstasy was so abundant in Amsterdam because it was being produced there, more than any other place because of the laws. The law was so lenient in Holland regarding ecstasy production, that the risk of getting caught wasn't so bad. A chemist could make millions before getting caught, then end up doing 3 or 4 years in a Dutch prison which isn't that bad. Dutch prison is like living in a campus dorm room that you can't leave.

Doug and I started talking to some guys we knew that sold ecstasy to get a feel for prices and selection. There were so many different kinds of pills to choose from: Doves, Playboys, Mercedes, Dolphins, etc etc… The pills get their names from the stamped image in the pill, pressing pictures of little doves or dolphins into the tablet. I thought that was so cool how the pills could be identified that way, all the pills I saw in New York never had any images on them.

The question of quality was never an issue, all the pills we were using in Amsterdam were consistently top notch, some I would easily argue better than pills in New York.

Pricing was awesome too, with all the money we could spend we could buy 200 pills for 1000 dollars, or 5 dollars a piece. My mind instantly did the calculations and those pills would equate to a New York value of 6000 dollars… not bad. If I had more money, I would've looked into buying more.

We never fully committed at the time to make the buy, we still had a lot of planning to do. Getting the pills was easy but now we had to think about getting them to New York, and what to do after that. Doug and I had zero experience dealing drugs, sure I bought them all the time… just never sold them.

The easiest problem we dealt with first, what to do with the pills after they get to New York. We decided to give Mike in New York a call to bounce the idea off him.

Mike was happy to hear from me, and when I informed him of our plan he had mixed emotions. Mike wasn't a drug dealer either, sure he copped pills for us in New York but he wasn't making money from it. He didn't even qualify as a low level street dealer.

Mike was interested in the idea of having so many pills around, but it was scary to him too. He never thought about changing character from simple user to dealer before, which is a big step to make. I never thought of it like that and instantly regretted calling Mike, I was afraid I either insulted him or corrupted him.

After a brief and awkward pause I was about to apologize and hang up, but Mike spoke first and told me to bring the pills to his apartment if I ever was in town. He said that if I was serious and made it, we could figure out what to do with the pills after. To me that was an indication that Mike was down, and considered the problem of what to do with them in New York as solved.

Doug was happy to hear about what Mike had said and was extra enthusiastic about the plan, I was feeling it too. Amsterdam is awesome but I was missing that New York action, I was dreaming of clubbing and pill popping with pockets stuffed with cash.

Doug wanted to move fast and fly to New York by the next week, the feeling was mutual but I wanted more time. We were about to spend our last 1000 dollars on pills and I wanted a solid plan to get them to New York.

There was a lot of disagreement between Doug and I about transporting the pills to New York. I proposed we carried 100 pills each and travel to Frankfurt Germany by train, to later board separately on the same flight to New York. Once passed US customs we would reunite outside JFK airport by the taxi stand and take a cab together to Mike's. High fiving the whole way.

My thinking was simple, 100 pills could easily be stacked into a small package which could be disguised or hid. I pictured in my mind splitting 100 pills into 4 stacks of 25 pills, then putting the 4 stacks together and mentally measure its dimensions. I came up with my most liberal estimation by rounding up every whole number… I reckoned a package of 100 pills could be tightly stacked to 3X1X1 inches, or the size of a small matchbox.

Traveling to Frankfurt Germany by train and boarding a plane for New York to me was perfect. At the time European borders were still checked by customs, but holding an American passport made it easy to get through. The problem was American customs, and flying directly from Amsterdam would be stupid.

Boarding the plane separately and flying independently made sense to minimize any trouble,  if any were to occur. Not that I was worried, 100 pills sounded easy to sneak through.

Doug didn't like the plan and felt it was too risky, he said he didn't want to go to prison, which I completely understood. When I asked him what he suggested we do I couldn't fucking believe it.

At the hostel we were staying at there were backpackers from all over the world that came, to buy their drugs and smuggle them to their country of origin. Many of them swallowed drugs in balloons, to throw them up after once passed the border. Doug wanted to smuggle the pills like that, swallowed in balloons.

Doug was so charged up and anxious to leave, he started making hasty decisions that weren't smart. He bought a ticket to New York leaving Amsterdam within a week and made a deal for 150 pills, which he didn't have all the money for.

Doug informed me of his plan. He was buying 150 doves and he was going to smuggle them in his stomach, carefully following the instructions from those at the hostel that were doing it. He had even reached out to Mike in New York already and was expected there.

I wanted nothing to do with this plan, but unfortunately I had to. Doug had already made a deal for the pills and at the end of the day, Doug was my friend and I trusted him that he knew what he was doing. I helped him with 700 dollars to buy the pills.

When Doug got the pills they were small and blue, with a print of a dove on them. I had never seen so many pills before, the most I've seen at one time was 10 which was rare. 150 pills looked so felonious, a quantity that separates the user from the dealer. I felt like I was definitely crossing a personal boundary, and it felt ok.

Testing the pills was easy, we each took one and gave a couple to these two backpacker girls from Portugal. The four of us had the most amazing time, we all ended up staying up all weekend, taking about 20 pills between the four of us.

Doug took the remaining 130 pills, separated them into 13 stacks of 10 pills, and wrapped them individually in cellophane. He then took the cellophane wraps and wrapped them in condoms, to later be swallowed.

That didn't sound right, but I was no expert. There was a Polish backpacker at the hostel helping Doug out, and he reassured Doug and I that he does it this way all the time. The condoms will make it in the stomach and withstand the acid.

Two days later Doug left the hostel for New York. I wished him good luck and asked to call me the second he arrived.

Prologue One, In the beginning

I was born in 1969 and raised in Honolulu, Hawaii since I was 5. I had a good life growing up, spoiled on birthdays and Christmas plus never the slightest bit of abuse. It was the perfect childhood.

In the summer of 1987 after I graduated from high school, I joined the army when I 17 years old.

I joined the army because I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, not even the slightest clue. When asked by others, such as my high school guidance counselor, what I wanted to do after high school… my response was always "I don't know ". My guidance counselor started to encourage me to see an army recruiter.

The recruiter instantly had my attention with promises of travel, adventure and a paycheck. It didn't take him more than an hour to have me ready to sign up right then and there. If it weren't for my age I would have, but at 17 I needed my mother's permission.

later that day I approached my mother to ask her permission to join the army, the sooner the better. My mother pondered my question a moment, and said yes. She explained that she was relieved that I finally seemed to have some direction, and promised that after graduation we could go see the recruiter together.

Two weeks after graduation we saw a recruiter,  then two weeks after I was on my way to basic training. I had to make a deal with my mother though, in order to get her to sign the permission I needed to choose an MOS that wasn't too hardcore. I chose a radio job but with the guarantee I would go to jump school, I needed some action and airborne school seemed interesting.

The army was cool. I was active duty army for 5 years from 1987 to 1992. In that time I lived in a dozen different countries, experienced new and unusual cultures, wined and dined with beautiful women… and was in various combat zones.

I happened to pick one of the most combat deployable radio jobs the army offered and being airborne made it even more likely. I knew what I was doing when I joined, deal or no deal with my mother, I knew how to pick an MOS that could offer reasonable action with tech over brawn.

When my service came to an end in 1992, I opted not to reenlist. I went back to Honolulu to begin my civilian life and quite frankly, I was back to square one. I had no idea what to do with my life.

I easily found work using my tech skills at the cable company, and being a veteran gave me preference. The work was dull and the pay sucked, I wasn't enjoying what I was doing. After less than a year of working for the cable company, I applied for other jobs. One of which was to be a police officer.

To be honest, I didn't think the police job was what I was going to do. The application process was long with many tests and interviews over the course of about 7 months. They kept calling me in though, and I kept going in to see them.

During this time I just couldn't work for the cable company anymore, I needed action. Thankfully my mother worked in the bar industry in Waikiki and got me a neat gig as a doorman at a nightclub. The pay still sucked but at least it was fun and I was getting laid a lot, there is an endless supply of tourist women on "holiday" in Waikiki.

During the Summer of 1993 I was called by human resources from the Honolulu Police Department, they asked if I still wanted the job. I was stunned, but took the job right away. I couldn't believe it yet was happy because it sounded like something cool to do, they also paid really good starting day one of the academy.

My police academy class had around 40 recruits, I learned later that out of over 5000 applicants… it was only us they selected. Upon hearing that I felt a bit odd because I wasn't thinking in terms of being a career police officer, I was just seeking something interesting to do.

The police academy was about 8 months long. We didn't live there like in the movie but we did stay there long days. The training was top notch and the Honolulu Police Academy was nationally known for being among the best in the county. We used to be observed by other agencies all the time.

Before graduation I was approached by narco-vice and asked if I wanted to work undercover in their division. I knew they often watched us recruits to look for good undercover officers and I was one they liked. To the surprise of the academy captain I turned them down, I wanted to be a very clearly identifiable police officer. I was excited to wear the uniform and drive a police car, there was no other way to explain it. The captain thought I was crazy for missing the opportunity but said he understood.

The thrill of being a police officer soon started to wear off, despite the occasional intense incident. Endless patrolling and tons of paperwork almost made me regret not taking the narco gig, almost… I would often chat with the other guys that took the narco job and it sounded worse. Narco-vice was a lot of lying and deceit, at least they didn't deal with daily paperwork.

I began planning my escape from the police department, I wanted to see and do more. I wanted to travel again like when I was in the army.

I had a roommate at the time, I will call him 'Doug'. Doug was a good guy and we were good friends, we rented a decent apartment in Waikiki and had plenty of friends come around to visit. Since I was a former doorman turned cop and Doug was a bigtime chef we were the place to come for socializing.

One day Doug and I had a serious conversation about the state of our lives, it was a life changing discussion. We both agreed that we hated our jobs and that we both were tired of living on an island. When I told Doug I was seriously thinking of quitting the police department to travel the world, he asked me when was I leaving and if he could come with me. The only answer I could give was "Of course. "

The plan was simple, I wanted to go back to Europe. When I was in the army I was stationed for two years in Germany, which were two of my most blissful years. While in Germany I traveled all over, France, Italy, Spain, etc… but the one place I loved visiting the most was Amsterdam. This is where I wanted to go first.

Amsterdam to me was a symbol of freedom and toleration, the historic city was beautiful and the people are awesome. I won't lie, I liked the freedom to party and the access to the coffee shops where the best hash and marijuana could be found.

I wanted to do it all again as a civilian with no ties or obligations, with no bounds. I wanted to be able to go wherever and whenever I wanted.

It wasn't long before we both put our two week notices in at our jobs, I said I was leaving for personal reasons and I believe Doug told his employer because he can kiss his ass. Doug really didn't like his job.

Around Spring of 1995 we were set and left Honolulu, we had money put together, airline tickets, and passports in hand. We both didn't know it at the time, but what we were doing was going to drastically change our lives.

One of the cool things about living in the very social Waikiki environment was the amount of friends and contacts we made. It took us 3 weeks to make it to Amsterdam because of all the people we visited on our way there, but the one stop that had the most impact on our future decisions was our stop in New York City.

We went to stay with a friend, who I will call 'Kim'. Kim was both cool and gorgeous that worked as a dancer at Score's, the top gentleman's club in New York. Doug and I met her while she was visiting Hawaii, she was a good friend of a friend and came by our place in Waikiki all the time to hang out.

After we settled in, Kim asked us if we wanted to party New York style. Obviously our answer was yes. We had been partying it up since leaving Hawaii from Las Angeles to Las Vegas and now New York, so why stop a good thing?

Kim called a friend of hers to come around, 'Mike'. Mike exuded an attitude of pure New York, fast talking and confident with a touch of arrogance. I knew right away I liked Mike.

After no more than five minutes of Mike's arrival, Kim immediately asked him if he can score some X.

X, I've heard of it only twice before. I knew it was slang for the drug ecstasy and became immediately curious if Mike could get it.

I wasn't curious if he could get it because I wanted to try it, I was curious if he could even get it all. When I first heard about ecstasy, I heard it on two other occasions over the years from guys who were looking to buy it with no luck.

You would think I would've heard more about ecstasy when I was a policeman in Hawaii, but during that time ecstasy was still unheard of there. The times I did hear about it was in passing at a bar, I never gave it much thought.

Mike lit up with enthusiasm upon being asked about getting the drug and nodded that he could. He explained that they were 30 dollars each and that he can get them in half an hour.

Doug and I were down to try this ecstasy out. I've never even seen what it looked like or how it was used, but after getting a quick synopsis from Kim about how badass X was… I took 30 dollars from my pocket and gave it to Mike.

As promised, Mike returned in half an hour with 6 tablets that looked like those white 'Mentos' candies. There were a total of 6 of us by that time in Kim's apartment, two of Kim's coworkers showed up to party too… dancers from the same gentleman's club as Kim's.

It was about 10 PM as Mike passed out each tablet to us, as he did he encouraged everyone to take it right away because New York was awaiting us. It was party time. On the advice from everyone, Doug and I only took a half to begin because it was our first time trying it while everyone else took the whole pill.

Shortly after taking our pills we all piled into two taxis and headed to the China Club, one of New York's most elite night clubs. The line to get in was long but to Doug's and my amazement we all walked to the front of the line and walked right into the club. Apparently our party group had a lot of pull and I liked that.

Once inside the club something very powerful happened to me. I began to feel an exciting rush pass through me, it was a mix of that thrill before Christmas when I was a kid and the thrill of falling in love. Everything was so beautiful and interesting,  the music being spun was the best ever and all the people in the club were the coolest people in the world. I was having the best time in my life.

Doug and I ended up staying in New York for a week partying and sleep was rare. Our impromptu party crew hit a different elite night club every night,  and when they closed at 4 AM we stopped at every mafia sponsored after party/speakeasy to keep going. I was starting to really like the life of ecstasy and clubbing, hanging out with others using it, it was neat to see some famous people doing it too. It felt like this life was somehow a social equalizer. 

On the airplane going to Amsterdam, Doug and I wondered if there was ecstasy in Amsterdam.

Chapter One - Page Three

Success!

I was finally able to get the woman who has been staying with me another place to live. Now I have a new sense of freedom, very similar to the feeling of my first day out of prison a while back.

I remember when I was first released from prison after all those years, it was in New York and I was released from the Queensboro Detention facility right there in Queens. It was in the year 2007 and I had done 8 years in prison.

When I was first released from prison, they took away my prison uniform and issued me a pair or denim jeans, a red sweatshirt, and a pair of imitation Converse sneakers. I was outfitted in the standard  outfit of a freshly released inmate, anyone who saw it just knew.

Oh, but that feeling of sweet, sweet freedom oh my! It's so intoxicating its indescribable.

This is how I am feeling now, at this very moment.

Sure I am feeling a little sad about the woman, I did like her after all. She had a lot of bad stuff going on though,  after getting to know her better I'm seeing how fucked up she is. I guess the blessing in all the mess is that I didn't get stuck with her on the road, and in Florida.

Freedom. Freedom freedom freedom I can keep repeating over and over it sounds so good. Freedom.

Now I can make my plans for travel, and I know exactly where I want to go. That's right you guessed it, Las Vegas baby. I am going to finally leave Portland.

I already know where I'm going, there's this hostel on the strip in Vegas that advertises as being the number one party spot to be. Sure I know that sounds like the regular Vegas hype, but I did my research on this hostel in Las Vegas. It is a legitimate claim, it's a place where people stay and get twisted.

I've lived in many hostels over the years in many different countries and I really like that way of living, it's always a bunch of backpacking freaks that just want to party. My kind of people.

A bed in an 8 person dorm room runs for a hundred dollars a week, which is super sweet. Dorm living is an interesting experience, it's really not for everybody. One has to be very respectful towards others, while at the same time being very tolerant of them too. It's not always easy but the parties at night make up for it.

I've lived in hostels in Amsterdam, Barcelona, New York, Paris… so many I would really have to start thinking back. The trick to really enjoy living in a hostel is to start working for it.

Working for a hostel is awesome, you no longer have to pay for the bed and you get to eat more because of the kitchen access. The hostel I was staying at in Amsterdam paid me with a free bed, 3 pints of beer a day, and a little hash here and there. It was one of the best times of my life.

My job consisted of hanging out at the train station looking for fresh arrivals off the incoming trains, and coaxing them to the comfort of our hostel. Weary backpackers in need of sleep after an international train ride were the easiest. My job also consisted of the occasional janitorial duty.

Working for a hostel gives one an instant role of authority over the other backpackers there too, like some sort of default setting that comes with the job. Other travelers were always coming to me for help and advice.

The new authority has a lot of power too, especially over the new female backpackers that come through. It's like it gives some sort of Alpha Male status over the other males staying at the hostel, power and good genes for reproduction.

I plan on trying this in Las Vegas, with a little luck I can pull it off.

One can't just go to a hostel and get a job working for it, one has to earn it. The workers at the hostel most likely are backpackers themselves that have had to earn the job as well.

Earning the job requires patience, time and sacrifice. There's no waiting list to be put on, in fact you shouldn't even let them know you're scheming to work there. That would cause so many problems on so many levels, especially from others who may be looking for a job there too.

What I do is after a few days of socializing and being cool, I start to help out when there's a lot of work that needs doing. Never start doing someone else's job (if they are there) , wait for when there's a lot of extra work which happens often. Just jump in and work and don't expect a penny.

A good opportunity is after big parties that need cleaning up or when another worker takes off forever, leaving a task undone. This happens quite often too, there often is a high turnaround for hostel employees.

After awhile of generally being a cool person that doesn't mind a little work, it won't be long before being approached with my favorite question:

So, how long you staying? Looking for work?

Why, yes I am.

If I can do this I will probably stay in Vegas for a few months. I've been there a lot before when I used to be in the drug biz, but certainly not in a hostel.

I have been thinking about when to leave, I suppose I may wait until the first of the month when I get my next disability check. It's the middle of the month right now and my bank account is hurting.

I get 50% VA Disability benefits every month, which is $822. I won't talk about it today, but I've been diagnosed with PTSD as a result of combat exposure. I was in Iraq in 1991.

The money may not seem like a lot, but with proper budgeting it does suffice for the lifestyle I live. I may not be living like the rock star that I was in the 90s and with all the drugs, but I am living a life of freedom.

Thank God for food stamps too. I get $135 a month of food stamps each month and every cent gets spent on food, unlike others who sell their food stamp benefits for 50 cents on the dollar. Speaking of which, Dollartree is an awesome place to buy food and snacks on the cheap.

So I think it's settled, in 2 weeks after I'm paid I'm going to Vegas. I will more than likely be posting a few times before I go.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter One - Page Two

I really need to do something about the way I'm titling these posts, I guess I'm thinking in terms of chronology over and actual title. Go figure...

So I haven't been as busy with the blog as much as I thought I would, but my ADHD kept me busy with other stuff. I am committed to doing this and will do it, but lately things haven't been so worthy of writing about. I'm so fucking bored.

I'm still stuck in Oregon, I should have left for Vegas already. I have this woman living with me that I still need to get rid of, oh man long story!

Ok, I'll try to explain it as summarized as possible. About 6 week ago I met this nice girl and we hit it off so good. She came with a lot of luggage though, two boyfriends (Not at the same time) she wanted to leave and an apartment she was getting kicked out of with nowhere to go.

I told her I was going to Las Vegas then to Florida in a couple of weeks and she begged to come with me. She explained to me about her problems and that I had to help her out. She was so cute and adorable I just had to help out my new friend, and it was nice to have a woman around me again.

Since it would be a few weeks before we left, I let her move into my house before leaving. That turned out to be one of the biggest mistake I've ever made, that really jammed me up. After moving in with me, she decided she didn't want to go to Florida. There was no way I was going to let her stay at my place while I was away at Florida, but I couldn't just kick her out.

So here I am, several weeks later, trying to get out of Oregon and get to Vegas/Florida. I'm currently trying to get this girl on her feet so that I can go on my merry way.

So with my new spare time I've been studying Russian again. When I was in federal prison for 8 years, I taught myself how to speak Spanish and Russian. Russian was harder to learn than Spanish so I felt I should brush up on it. I started making my own study materials and posting them to Soundcloud and Youtube yesterday and today, I'll post links after.

So yeah I was in prison for drug trafficking, when I lived in Amsterdam and Barcelona I used to FedEx hundreds of thousands of ecstasy pills to the US. This was in the 90s.

Later I started working with some Israelis sending millions of pills by boat, that was some crazy shit.

We all eventually got caught here or there, did our time and got out. I never spoke with my old cohorts again after all these years, I never wanted to go to prison again. I don't know what they're doing, but getting out of drugs? I doubt it.

I wish there was more exciting news to report, still haven't hit the road so still no tales of adventure. I will talk more about my past life of criminal adventure though, but not now. I would like to dedicate more time to topics of that nature, like make a separate blog category.

This I can promise in the future, a drug and alcohol fueled trip and more about when I was a criminal.

Here's those links, all brand new social profiles, all complete aliases. I decided with Roy Munson, not sure if you've seen "King Pin" but I feel like an embodiment of that character Roy.

http://twitter.com/oldjit

https://soundcloud.com/roy-munson-1

https://www.facebook.com/roy.munson.king

http://youtube.com/channel/UCy4Hl5ptpGsLhjAEuK5PV0g

Chapter One - Page One

Starting right now I finally start, writing all the crazy shit I do and go through. I call this Chapter One, but my story goes farther back in time and deeper into madness.

Today, today I begin from this point on, and make occasional references of the past. My past will trip you the fuck out.

There really isn't much going on right now thats so interesting though, I'm sort of hibernating if you will. I don't know what even prompted me to even start this blog, I guess the boredom of not doing anything. 

I like to drink, I like pot and some of the harder varieties of drugs. I love to travel. I love to get drunk and high and travel to foreign places to party. 

I've been all over Europe, I've lived in countries like Germany, Holland, and Spain. I lived in those countries because when I arrived to party, it was so good I stayed awhile. I lived in Holland for 7 years, yes Amsterdam rules. I lived there in the mid to late 90's, where weed and MDMA was flowing free and strong. I was at the source of the best drugs and trance music. 

These days as an older budweiser fellow of 44, I still have the need to travel and party, like an itch that can't be scratched. Right now as I write this, I am insane with the need to take flight and it could be at any moment. 

Currently I am in Portland, Oregon (ug) and I am thinking of making my escape to Las Vegas. 

I am writing all this for me, I really highly doubt anyone will read this but if you are someone that's reading…. The profiles I made are complete aliases, I would never divulge my true identity. No way! I am about to write some stuff. 

The Internet is crazy though, I may pick up a few followers, who knows?