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About Amsterdam

But then—bam!—I get mad. Some prick in a pickup cuts me off, nearly clips the car. “You fuckin’ stunad!” I yell, fist out the window. She’s laughin’ her ass off, and I’m like, “What’s so funny, huh?” She goes, “You’re a trip, Tony.” Yeah, damn right I am. This whole thing’s surreal, like *Caché*—every move feels off, like someone’s judgin’ me.

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First off, I hit up the local café on de Zaanweg. Best coffee in town, no cap. I’m sippin’ my latte, scrolling through my phone, and BOOM! My buddy texts me. He’s like, “Dude, meet me at the Assendelft train station!” I’m like, “Whaaat? Right now?”

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