Ferry Godfather
Chapter V
"You hungry? Let's grab something, aye?" I can't remember his name at the moment, so let's just call him Pete. He was a middle-aged Englishman travelling the same route as me who had suddenly appeared from nowhere.
A few moments earlier, too restless from nerves and excitement to sleep, I'd been pacing and listening to tunes. The lounge area was maybe half full. Young couples with large packs and neck pillows. The odd family with rambunctious kiddies. Older people dressed for the theatre. A few others paced as well, but most sat or laid on the hard plastic seats with carpeted cushions. "How many asses have farted on those seats?" I thought to myself. "Neck pillow or not, I wouldn't put my head on one of those."
I strolled over to the window, but there was nothing to see. In stark contrast to the hospital lighting inside the passenger area, outside was pitch black. Ah, the pleasures of travelling on a rainy, late Winter's Eve.
I scanned again and stopped on an elderly couple. White-haired and bespectacled, they seemed quite content sitting on their sponges of flatulence. They wore matching comfortable sweaters and gave off a friendly, unsuspecting vibe.
Suddenly, the woman reached into the large handbag at her feet and began unloading a collection of goodies. I looked at the clock on the wall. Dinner time, and I'd already eaten all my snacks on the bus. As I watched, my mouth began salivating to the beat of the music blasting in my ears. A fresh stick of bread, cheese, olives, sun-dried tomatoes... oh, stop! I couldn't take it, so I began wandering around for something to eat.
Back in 2009, my diet consisted of as much of the cheapest whatever I could find as possible. The cafeteria was open, but the prices were extortionate. Instead, I decided to go for a stroll and get food off my mind for the time being.
A dark hallway with dim lighting and tacky photos hanging over dated wallpaper led me to the opposite side of the ship. Void of human life and anything remotely interesting, I turned to exit that dark mirror image of our designated seating area when Pete walked in. After a brief introduction, he offered me a sandwich. "They have everything stocked on this side for the return trip." He pulled back a curtain covering the sandwich cooler beside the closed register, removed two and handed one to me. "You alright with tuna? I've tried them all, and tuna's always the best." He kept finishing his sentences with two clicks of his mouth and a wink, which was odd yet strangely comforting.
"Thanks!" Hunger often trumps conscience on the road, so I dug in. "Do you do this often, then?" I asked with a chuckle. "Every time I come across." Pete's face beamed with pride. "And on the way back of course." He gave me a cheeky grin, followed by two clicks and a wink before taking another bite.
We finished our looted dinners in the hallway to avoid being caught at the scene of the crime should anyone venture back. I watched Pete curiously as he stuffed his sandwich wrapper into his pocket, then I followed suit. "Them bins have fresh bags in 'em," Pete whispered. "Best to keep 'em that way so they don't catch on, ya know? I've been doing this for years. It'd be a shame if they caught on now and put an end to it." Two clicks of his mouth accompanied another wink as if to ensure the lesson stuck.
"First time to Amsterdam, then?" We stopped at the lounge entrance. Pete began searching for a spot to sit down. "Yes, first time," I replied. He turned to face me. "Look, I need a bit of shut-eye, but meet me when you get off the bus if you want. I'll show you around to kill some time before you meet your friend, alright?"
Had that been the beginning of my travels, I'd have been slightly suspicious of his offer. A middle-aged sandwich thief offering me a seven a.m. tour of Amsterdam out of the blue? But I knew better by then. With over five years of travel under my belt by that stage, I'd learned to trust my gut, and it was telling me that Pete was all right. A fellow traveller with more experience, happy to pass on a little knowledge to someone living a similar lifestyle. That's a beautiful thing and why I loved the travelling community so much back then. None of this "What's in it for me?" bullshit we see today. Nope, just the good old-fashioned 'pay it forward' mentality.
"That would be really cool, Pete. Thanks! Enjoy your nap." Before he walked away, I whispered, "And thanks for the sandwich", with a grin. Two clicks and a wink, then Pete was gone.
The bus ride from Calais to Amsterdam was pretty uneventful. I slept most of the way or stared into the darkness, listening to tunes. Our bus pulled in at seven a.m. sharp. I messaged Anna to let her know I'd made it, then caught up with Pete. "You've got just over an hour, aye?" I confirmed. "We'll head straight for the Red Light District and a Coffee Shop or two then. Your friend can show you the rest.
He was quick and expertly navigated the cobbled maze. "Don't worry. I'll show you where you're meeting your friend after. Just follow me." Click, click, wink, and he was off again.
"Alright, look down there." I followed his nod to see a tall, thin man in glasses and office attire standing in the alley. He'd just walked out of a glass door with a red light over it and set down his briefcase to adjust his tie. Then, he bid farewell to the woman who saw him out and sauntered off. "Dutch? A businessman?" It was all so foreign to me. "Oh, hell yeah, Mate! Nighttime is all about drunk tourists, but the morning is another chestnut!"
We continued through the labyrinth of scantily clad women knocking on their windows and beckoning us inside. "Mornings are usually for blokes off to work. They say bye to the kids and the missus, then pop in for a quick shag or blowie to relax them for the day." I was stunned. I'd never seen anything like it. "Wouldn't that get expensive?" I was so green it made Pete laugh, "I don't know for sure, but at fifty euros a pop, I doubt they're doing it daily."
Pete showed a lot of patience with me as a mix of overwhelm and curiosity gave birth to a whole family of silly questions. "Do they go to the same girls each time? What if their wives find out? Don't they worry about catching something? What if their boss or secretary or a colleague sees them?" Pete kept laughing and saying, "I don't know, Mate". We raced past the final section of that human department store and stopped. "I think that's enough Red Light District for you, aye?"
I looked up to see a small building with a flashing green leaf in the window. Pete turned to me and had a final chuckle at my innocence before announcing the next stop on our tour, "Coffee shop time!" Click, click, wink, and in we went.
"Do you speak Dutch?" My question was met by more laughter. "A bit, but not really. There's no need, Mate. The Dutch speak better English than us!" He asked for a menu and laid it on the counter. "Cheese, Mate. I always get Cheese. That's the one you want." With a gulp, I swallowed my laughter at the silly name and said, "Cool! I ... I like cheese. What do we do? How does it work?" Pete was now too incapacitated by convulsing laughter to answer, so one of the staff stepped in. "Would you like to try it first?" Cool and handsome with dark skin and long dreads, this Lenny Kravitz of the Cannabis World had just offered me a free sample of weed. I couldn't wait to tell this story! Having collected himself, Pete chimed in, "Yeah, good idea. Have a try first, Mate. See if you like it."
I hadn't smoked weed in years at that stage and wasn’t sure how it would affect me. Had I been there alone, I'd have gone for it, but I was meeting Anna. I didn't know if she smoked weed. Also, I didn't want to smell or be out of it when meeting up with her for the first time in three years. "No, I'd better not for now. Thanks, though." Lenny nodded, then turned to Pete. "I don't need to try anything, Mate. Too early for me." Lenny shrugged. "I'll take a couple of grams of Cheese, please." Pete squared up with Lenny, then looked at his watch. "Time to go." Click, click, wink, and out we went.
Stepping from a dimly lit, smokey coffee shop into a bright, sunny morning is like waking from a dream. Certain that I was a little high from the second-hand smoke, I tried to play it cool and keep that info to myself to avoid Pete laughing at me again. He walked me to the corner where I was to meet Anna. "There ya go, Mate. Ten minutes to spare. Enjoy Amsterdam and reuniting with your friend. Dutch women are something else, Mate." We shook hands. "Pete, I can't thank you enough. The sandwich, the tour, everything. I really appreciate it. All the best, Man." Pete smiled. "Don't mention it, Mate. Safe travels." Click, click, wink, and he was gone.
In those days, it wasn't uncommon to hang out with people and then never see or hear from them again. I had a Facebook account, an email address and an old flip phone at the time, but, unlike nowadays, people weren't really in the habit of keeping in contact with every person they encountered - if you can call following people on social media keeping in contact.
Pete was a good dude. A traveller who looked out for other travellers. Proof that it's important to look for the good in people and a shining example that, on the road, you're never alone if you remain open.
I checked the time. It was nearly half past eight. "Not long now," I muttered. I braced against a railing to avoid being tossed on the ground by the butterfly mosh pit raging in my belly. I gazed around, watching bikes, boats, trams, and pedestrians moving about like ants. So much stimulation. It was weighing heavy on my nerves. I leaned over the railing and stared into the dark canal. Water always calms me down.
Just then, a familiar voice broke my trance. "Mike?" I turned slowly. Everything stopped: the bikes, the boats, the trams, even the butterflies. There was nothing, only a pair of orange-flecked blue eyes and a beautiful smile. "Anna!'"