A Tale of a Traveling Friend

One of our good friends has taken a break from the corporate world and decided to travel through Europe while he is still young. While swimming through new experiences and culture he has taken the time to show us a little love by putting our stickers up all over Europe. He has already snapped us a photo with Big Ben and the Eiffel Tower. For his latest activities he placed a few stickers up for us in Amsterdam and as an added bonus he sent a snippet out of his travel journal of his experience in Amsterdam. Before I hand this over to our first guest blog post we want to give a big shout out to Frank Ramey for showing some Dashfiles love from across the pond.  

The following is the piece Frank wrote:

"Rolled into Grey Area as the sun set (or simply the grey light I had been walking in all day began to dim). An American joint in the middle of Amsterdam. Funny, there really aren't any Dutch coffeeshops since the only group of people who don't smoke it here are in fact the Dutch.

All three hazed faces twisted to look at me. Yep I look like a tourist but so are they. Two similar animals realize one another. Walk to the counter and place the typical American Tourist order: "Uhhhm... What would you recommend?"

After fumbling through an awkward social interchange involving the name "Tennessee" and "arrested development" and "No, it's a band too" and "I know", I took my easiest spot that was available. In the corner by the window. Like putting a product on display.

This place is tiny. Like smaller than European tiny. The walls are covered in stickers from forgotten bands and groups and God-knows-whats. Every table contains the residue of those that came before me and the probable future impartments of those who will follow me on this pilgrimage of folly (although this exact pilgrimage may be coming to an end like so many other forgotten rituals of hedonism and sanctity alike).

I invoke the Butane gods and start down the path to a world that is entertaining, frightening and enlightening. A road I've been down a few times and I'm starting to learn how to read the map through it.

The fellow patrons in fro-

What the fuck is that snapping noise?! Sorry but I keep hearing a sudden sound from across this tiny display case. I think it's something the Italians are doing. Ok back on track now:

The fellow patrons in front of me settle back into their cloud-soft iron chairs and strike up a conversation that I figure I didn't interrupt but had probably been started before this hour.

I try the social hand for a long minute before going behind the greatest social shield of the present day world. The "smart" phone". I pick up snippets of conversations and tail ends of friendly jokes, fellow Tourist/Clients come and go. Never really a queue for service. Few stick around after they collect their prize. Off to the bars of the city, the ones near the passion-sellers' glazed windows of triumphs to be made and other hazed shops of fogged glory (never a house).

I mull over what choice I'll take when it comes to my asking for permission to leave behind a part of my existence. Risk awkward denial (or approval) and tread through another social interchange? pick the lazy (or cowardly) option and simply pull myself out of this den? or be the awkward rebel (or penguin) and simply leave behind my present without asking?

How long have I been writing for now? Feels like maybe I've been here a long hour. Not in any real hurry mind you. There's good music playing, warmer in than out and I'm rather enjoying sitting here and pressing my distracted thoughts past ancient design and into the modern day mind. God I hope I read this tomorrow and it's not purely gibberish. Maybe I'll get lucky and actually write one decent idea down.

Looks like my choice to travel on now or not has been made for me. "Hey man just so you know, we close in fifteen minutes. Just so you know."

"Oh OK""

Thanks again and happy travels Frank