Sleepless In Amsterdam

Sometime at the end of August a guy called Martin Stone walked into a Zone 3 in Liverpool. The owner was out, but Martin phoned him back & sent him a number of e-mails after first talking the ears off Dom in the shop. Pat listened, contacted me with the info he had & I spoke to an associate. We decided it would be worth while making the trip to Amsterdam & see what this was all about for ourselves.

James had to stay overnight at my place the night before so we could get the 4:00 AM taxi to the airport. I’d timed it so that I could get six hours sleep before getting up. At 9:30 PM I was still waiting for James. He eventually turned up at half past eleven. It was still possible to get three hours, but James fell asleep first, & he snores. I eventually managed about an hour & a half before the alarm clock snapped me awake sending the alarm clock, table light & ashtray all flying onto the floor as my arm shot out to stop the noise. At 4:03 AM I was pacing the front of my house two thirds the way down my second spliff. James had elected to lie down on the camp bed in my porch. The taxi arrived.

We breezed through the airports & were in Amsterdam by 9:30 AM. First stop was Piccasso where I scored 5g of nice commercial Nepalese. Second was Pink Floyd scoring 1g of Master Kush & 1g of Afghani Crème.

On to Barney’s for a full hit breakfast. From Barney’s we went to the Cannabis College where I had a nice chat to Lorna Clay (Lorna didn’t know Martin Stone) about news & things & then visited the Garden. It was James first visit, he was very impressed.

Cannabis College Garden

From there we went to Conscious Dreams on Warmoesstraat where I scored some ephedra caps to keep me going. There would be no mercy time for resting this day or night. James & I went to pick up the bags & headed to the Hemp Hotel on the No.4.

Hemp Hotel

Anasha welcomed me back with a hug & made me feel straight at home again. James & I stopped to chat a while before going to sort out our bikes & headed over to the Pollinator Co. to see Mila, scoring some Shiva on the way from Stix.

Mila didn’t know Martin Stone either. Martin had told me on the phone that he had called in to see Mila the week before. Mila had no memory of him. She gave me a pinch of her personal Ice-o-later stash. An honour, no question. James had never tried Ice-O-Later hash before. It was wonderful. I discussed a little business, & we left. I took James back to the Hotel for a sleep while I headed back into town to put some credit on my Dutch Lairphone so I could have it back in service. Then I went to see if I could find Zoe.

Zoe

I’d missed her last time in town though I’d come to see her purposefully. Lorna had told me where to look for her while I’d been in the Cannabis College & was still locking up my bike outside the Coffeeshop when I heard Zoe call my name. She had seen me arrive through the big windows that allowed views of the canal as well as Damstraat.

“Hay, Vern, your back in town. How long you staying ?"

She took me inside & began introducing me to some folks, some of whom I’d met before, all of whom were American. One of the guys was making his goodbyes as I was being given the hello’s & slipped out of the door before I spoke to him. It turned out that he was Skip from Hippy.com Forums. I’d spotted a thread on that forum about Opium Hashish in Amsterdam Coffeeshops. I responded to this by starting a new thread about it, eventually calling on Skip to meet me & discuss it next time I was in Amsterdam. I still await a response on the forum, but I reckon I’ll be able to pin him down for a chat during the ‘Cup’ next month, with Zoe’s help.

I didn’t have a lot of time unfortunately, but everything I wanted to ask/tell/speak of was covered. Zoe had finished with the Amnesia Coffeeshop. It had not worked out for her the way she had hoped. She had a lot of plans for the upcoming ‘Cup’, but a visit to Merseyside was not out of the question for next year. Zoe didn’t know Martin Stone either, but was interested to learn of his ideas & that he was ‘doing the rounds’.

I was starting to run late. It was five past five, the meet with Martin was set for 5:30 PM in the bar of H.H.. I got there via one of Amsterdam’s many unscheduled distractions for 5:43 PM. Charging towards the door after locking my trusty iron steed, I saw a bald guy in a long winter coat talking into a mobile phone & pacing outside the Bar. He was clean cut, well dressed with sensible shoes. He looked like more a business man than a toker. I passed him, entered & took up a seat at the Bar & asked Anasha if there were any messages. She began motioning towards the door & I nodded my understanding pouring my first cider of the trip into a glass as the door began to open & the well dressed bald guy came in.

“You must be Vern.”, he said.

“You must be Martin.”, I replied.

We began chatting & I ran upstairs to wake James. Half an hour or so later we were in the Tagor Indian across the road choosing a meal that Martin paid for. He never stopped talking about his vision. Essentially what he wants to do is start marketing the Brand names of Coffeeshops (eg. Bulldog, Greenhouse) in the same way as designer fashion labels are marketed. A bit like coca cola.

Martin talked to me about web cast interviews & band performances which would be on a pay by view basis. He talked a lot about mobile phones receiving the latest coffeeshop news direct from an internet site, for a charge. He talked about his involvement in making blue movies as a locations man. He kept mentioning aspects of the ‘adult’ industry, in particular the phone sex industry. He talked about a Unifying web site which would undertake the marketing of Coffeeshop ‘brand’ names. He talked of this costing the subscribers £25-00 per month. I balked immediately, something Martin seemed a little surprised at. £300-00 per year, what stoner is going to pay for that when they could add £50-00 & go buy 125g of hash to keep them high for months ? This was something Martin hadn’t seemed to consider. We returned to the H.H. Bar & he kept talking. He didn’t toke much either. I think he took maybe a half dozen hits all night.

By this time my head was choc full of information I badly needed to digest & sleep on. Martin continued talking. Eventually Pat & the other lads rang up. Now it’s around about this point my memory becomes somewhat defective. I’d dropped an Ephedra cap in the Indian just before eating. It was beginning to kick in & bring me back from the place where fatigue catches up with you & tiredness makes listening to conversation hard work.

I remember that Jess was working behind the H.H. bar. I remember seeing Mila briefly who said, yes, now she had seen Martin again in the bar that she remembered speaking to him the week before, “He said he’d come back, but I haven’t seen him.”

It was decided we should move on to Prix D’ Ami for the next stage of the meeting where we would meet the Bulldog’s owner. James & I elected to cycle our way into town leaving Martin to catch a No.4.

“What do you think ?”, I asked James.

“He talks well but, £25-00 a month, heard that sort of thing before. What do you think ?”

“I think we should wait & see who turns up tonight & at the meeting tomorrow & listen to what they have to say. Then sleep on it a week. Let it digest a bit.”

We made our way to Damrak & locked up the bikes. Then we went over to Prix D’ Ami & were ushered upstairs to what was a private meeting/party room with its own bar. Henk was there & was talking about some of the past glorys of the Bulldog. I’d have liked to have chatted with him somewhere quieter at greater length but Martin sort of came between us, repeating for the most part what he had already told us in the Indian. There was some more mention of doing a deal on some of Nol’s book ‘The Dutch Experience’, & at this I pricked up my ears. But Martin wasn’t interested in discussing details on that until the meeting tomorrow.

Finally I couldn’t handle any more & made the excuse that James, it being his first visit to Amsterdam, was in need of seeing the Amsterdam night. It’s here that things go a bit hazy. I can’t remember what happened next or with who. I know me & James ended up back in the H.H. bar afterwards, but that is just about all I do remember. It had been quite a day. I hadn’t slept for two days & I was quite pissed. My bed welcomed me.

Next day the big meeting was set for 2:30 PM in an apartment above the Bulldog on Spuistraat. The five Liverpool warriors met in the H.H. Bar over breakfast & made their way into town via Seeds Direct on Single, where myself & James sampled some NY Diesel. It took James’s head clean off. He was blasted for the next three or four hours. The guy serving said he would bring in something special if I came back next day, so I said I’d make it a date.

We still had an hour before the meet so I took Pat over to Homegrown Fantaseeds Garden. I got a terrific surprise when I walked in to see Tessa Lee counting seeds into packets. We had a big hug & I felt like scooping her up & running off with her down the road to catch up on the gossip. I hadn’t seen her for over a year. She had news of a new strain called Blue Cheese that had been developed in Luton. Somebody had just given her a clone & she promised me a taste when I return for ‘Cup’ week. Tessa didn’t know of Martin Stone either.

We headed around the corner to Homegrown Fantasy Coffeeshop then for a quick smoke & drink before going to the meeting. There was disgruntled talk among some of leaving after a half hour. The word ‘bullshit’ was bandied about freely. It was decided that we wouldn’t hang around too long, depending on what we found.

I’d spoken to Martin about a supply of books of Nol’s ‘Dutch Experience’. That was the deal I was interested in securing at this time. When we got to the meeting we were first there but we were soon joined by people from Abraxas & Bulldog coffeeshops along with a young guy called Tim who was an internet/computer expert.

Martin began talking & from time to time questions were asked & contributions were made. Twice he lost himself in the thread of his own promotional explanation. At one point Martin went into a soliloquy about how the Bulldog logo meant ‘freedom’.

“No it doesn’t.”, said the Bulldog rep.

There was a stone silence for a second while the assembled awaited a come back & tried to make up their collective minds to laugh, cry, or call it a day. My arse was numb, & the only weed in the room was what I’d brought with me. Martin wasn’t toking. James had closed his eyes & was spaced out on the N.Y. Diesel in the corner. The girls from Abraxas had run out after a long half hour, hours ago, & had clearly found an awful lot of problems with Martin’s ideas.

I’d studied them. They were locals. I checked the Bulldog Rep. These guys had heard all this kind of thing before. In fact they heard somebody’s bright ideas on a daily basis. Martin did not seem to be cutting much ground with them. They were interested, like me they could see potential in some of the ideas talked of, but it was more than clear that Martin had next to zero knowledge of the Cannabis Community’s outlook towards brand name philosophy. In fact he didn’t seem to connect with the Cannabis Community in any real way at all. Another thing that was bothering me was Martin’s down on medical marijuana, at one point blaming those involved in medical marijuana for preventing people like himself from making money.

I myself have been a medical marijuana user for 17 years.

We had been there two hours or more. I decided it was time to hit the town & enjoy all that there is to enjoy in Amsterdam while it was still possible. The other lads looked like they were thinking the same. There was nothing on paper to see, nor on computer. I enquired with Pat about the book deal. Pat & I exchanged looks & left them where they were. Martin had ideas of us selling them at £25-00 a copy. At aprox £15-00 to £18-00 a copy they would move, slowly, but they would move. At £25-00 there was no chance. Martin was expecting me to do some promotion on the book to push it into more mainstream stores to. At £25-00 a throw I’d be lucky to shift six in a year.

The meeting began to break up. By then it was clear Martin just didn’t know the sort of business cannabis business is. Although his overall idea was a sound one, the ability to see it come into being was more than questionable. I’d asked around for the last couple of months everywhere I could think of to find out about Martin & absolutely nobody knew anything about him.

With the benefit of some sleep since I got home it struck me why. Martin comes from the ‘dirty movie’ industry. The phone sex business, not the marijuana movement. That would seem to explain his resilience to anything to do with Medical Marijuana, which he sees as a hindrance to trade. Martin wants to set up a Brand name collective, which can be marketed, through his brand name. He wants to connect all this with a pay by view web site that collects mobile phone numbers to send out news items to, ‘like a club’ via text messaging. It sounded a bit like ‘the shopping channel’ to me.

Though Bulldog energy drinks were spoken of, those too were missing from the meeting & were unavailable to sample. There were ashtrays & mugs for samples to take home of ‘Brand marketing’, but we were asked to come back next day for them. We five Scouser’s headed to the Red Light Bar to start the evenings fun. I was surprised to find that they had moved the staircase to the upstairs. We couldn’t decide what to eat so we split to meet back at the same place at 10:30 PM.

Me & James went & had a good meal in Leidesplein & returned to the H.H. bar before going back into town to meet Pat. American John rang through to H.H. and we spoke about Martin & the Arena Hotel, site for this years coming Cannabis Cup events. Me & James were making bets with each other as to what time Martin would turn up as he had promised to meet us there. Pat strolled in about 11:00 PM. Dom & Dave never made it for the night time session. There was no sign of Martin either, so the three of us headed to the Bulldog Palace on the bikes to see what there was to see. James getting an uncomfortable seater. It was here that some overproof Jamaican Rum (63%) found its way into a glass from a seemingly innocent bottle of blue Spa. Pat took a gulp & spent the next ten minutes getting his breath back. James refused because it made his eyes water, Pat took a second go & Viper killed the glass, needing to draw a breath himself after such a draught. I gave it a moment before firing up the Ital again.

At something past 4:00 AM in a state of advanced altered consciousness James got out the camcorder & proceeded to film a long sequence of me giving some rambling spaced explanation of something or other. I’d dropped at least two ephedra caps with some mushrooms during the course of the evening. I hadn’t stopped drinking since food intake & I’d only stopped toking to move from one site to another. The window was open so I could smoke without setting off the smoke alarms again & I headed over to it holding on firmly to the little shelf above the opening. I leaned out & took some deep breaths of fresh air & spotted Stickii locking up with Irish Rob.

“Don’t fall out the window.”, said Stickii.

I began some reply but they had the good sense to ignore me & continue homewards. A little time later I hit the Amsterdam night/morning on my iron steed. Traveling in the strange dimension that is The Viper Zone ….

….. I eventually met up with an African Princess an hour or two later on Single canal, named Ivonne. I got back to H.H. for a quarter to 10:00 AM. I was in an advancing shit order. Caught between Ephedra comedown, sleep depaved derangement & a hangover. It was a really weird trip. Everything was beginning to ache & I was feeling seriously exerted. My stomach rolled emptily & I began to view the world from a distant tunnel. What I needed was a night’s sleep but we had to check out within an hour. I began with some slight stomach lurches & advanced into leg cramps within the next hour & a half.

I have no idea how I managed to get through that very long day. Most of my plans for the day went out of the window because I was in such a state. I proceeded with exercising damage limitation to myself by staying out of everybody’s way. James headed off to see the tourist spots. I made my way around to see Mila & conclude that bit of business, but I was having so much difficultly standing up & speaking I decided to abandon doing anything more afterwards. I couldn’t even trust myself to sit for a while at the table. I’d be back in a month anyway & I could take my time with everything then.

I hung around until the Bar should have been open but they were not because it seemed they were having problems sorting out the curtain rail in the room I didn’t sleep in the night before. Some vague memory of the thing falling off the rail on top of me floated back near the surface but not close enough to grab at. I went & fetched some superglue & crossed my fingers. It would do as a temporary fixing, but I was in shit for a new rail it looked like.

I offered to pay for the new bits they would need if they came & picked out what was needed from the DIY shop just up the road. Cathy refused,

“Don’t talk to me about it. I can’t be bothered. I’ll sort it out next week.”

Just don’t say I didn’t offer.

Eventually James re-appeared & we took back the bikes. I dropped into the big armchair in the Bar & slept until it was time to get in the Taxi. Stickii drifted past me & made comment on my condition. I gave him the weed I hadn’t smoked before leaving. I knew it was going to an appreciative home.

I was so greatful to get into my own bed that night.

Viper 21/10/2003.

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First Published 21/10/2003 by Viperslair.co.uk 2004.

Re-Published 31/10/2003 with modifications & updated pictures by Viperslair.co.uk 2004.

Re-published 1/1/2006

Re-formatted and edited for Disc 12/10/2006

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