Sunday, May 18, 2008

The Deciders Have Decided

The Deciders have decided ... to keep the article.

No surprise, really. The only thing I can't figure out is how the matter ever came up in the first place. I do have my suspicions, but that is as much as I should say about that, at the present time.

That's the problem with Wikipedia. Under cover of anonymity, and with no legal accountability whatsoever, anyone can do anything to anyone's article--write something false or defamatory, or in my case simply nominate an article they don't like for deletion.

It almost succeeded. Early on, most of the persons debating the issue knew nothing about comics, therefore were quick to vote "Delete." Only the intervention of a Wikipedian with knowledge of comics saved the article, and this was largely happenstance. He tells me had not edited or looked at the article in a long time, but by coincidence just happened to look at it shortly after the nomination for deletion was made.

It was disconcerting to see people debating my "notability." I didn't know how to take it. I was annoyed, because ever since the article appeared on Wikipedia a few years ago a lot of people have told me they've read it. Which meant that now a lot of people were seeing the deletion notification, as well as the debate over whether or not I was worthy of the article. This was a great personal and professional embarrassment for me.

And yet, it was not exactly the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Far from it. And it was more ridiculous than anything else. It said far more about the responsible individual than it did about me, and far more about the weaknesses of Wikipedia.

I have mixed feelings about Wikipedia. It does have some value as a resource. I have used it in the past, and will likely do so in the future. But now, having seen up close and personal just how vulnerable it is to abuse, I have come to believe that Wikipedia should no longer allow people to edit or create articles anonymously and without legal accountability. This allows the likes of Slim Virgin to do a great deal of damage, not only to the individuals who are defamed or deleted, but ultimately to the growing number of people who have, for better or worse, come to rely on Wikipedia for information.

Of course, it could be argued that, in my case, the Wikipedia system of self-correction ultimately worked. There are good Wikipedians as well as bad (I call them Wickedpedians), and they came through in the end. But even so, the anonymity thing has got to go.

Friday, May 16, 2008

A Reader Writes: Drive-In Memories

After reading my piece Drive-In Memories from last November, a reader sent the following email (reproduced here by permission):

Dear Mack,

I wanted to write and let you know that I was thoroughly entertained reading your blog this evening on your drive-in theater memories.

Like so many who intimately knew her, I also lamented the destruction of the Fort Worth Twin's screen towers over the New Year's holiday. I saw that they were missing a couple of weeks after they were torn down, and I, too, felt a certain "warmth of nostalgia" when I passed them by on the Tom Landry Highway. I'm grateful to the handful of people (like your friend Brian Roper) who took pictures of it before it was demolished.

I can say that the Fort Worth Twin was, bar-none, my favorite drive-in theater to haunt when I was a kid growing up in the '70s and living in the neighborhood close to John Peter Smith hospital. Some of the films I saw there were 'The Golden Voyage of Sinbad', 'Zardoz', and the original 'Rollerball'. My Mom and I had moved to the Mid-Cities in 1976, and I believe the last time I went to the good ol' Twin was back in '78, watching a movie called 'Warlords of Atlantis', starring Doug McClure, that showed on it's east screen.

Even though it closed before I knew anything about it, I remember passing by the old Pike Drive-In's abandoned screen tower in the late '70s and early '80s, with it's faded and peeling mural and the surrounding high grass. If you're interested, there's a beautiful picture of the Pike's screen tower in all it's former glory when it opened in the book 'The American Drive-In Movie Theatre', by Don and Susan Sanders. If I remember correctly, wasn't it located on the corner of E. Lancaster Ave. and another street?

I'm currently doing some personal research on the drive-in theaters of Fort Worth, and have found some good basic information on them with some promising leads, and I've also been in contact with some people (like Brian) who have been very helpful with my endeavor.

Well, I just thought I'd drop you an e-mail. Thank you very much for sharing your memories. Glad to know your friend Sandy made it after all!

Sincerely,
Larry Martinez


Thanks for writing! I’m glad to hear you enjoyed my drive-in memories, also glad to make the acquaintance of someone who also remembers the Twin and especially the Pike.

Golden Voyage of Sinbad ZardozRollerball … not only do I miss the drive-in theatres, I miss the movies of that era. Of the three you mention, Rollerball in particular is one I can still watch over and over. I just wish I could watch it under the stars.

The precise location of the Pike is something Brian and I have discussed before, without any firm conclusions. You may be right about it being on the corner of E. Lancaster. I can’t remember, because the last time I saw the ruins of the screen tower was (I think) the early 70s when I used to commute up and down the road that ran through Handly, past Rose Hill Cemetery (Lee Harvey Oswald's last resting place), to my job at the newspaper in Arlington.

I have a copy of the book you mention. In fact, the Pike photo was the reason I bought it. If I ever find a color photo of the Pike in its 1950s neon glory, that would be the Holy Grail of Drive-In Photos for me.

And yes, I too am glad my old friend Sandy survived. Otherwise, it would have been a most unpleasant end to the evening.

Again, thanks for writing! Please stay in touch …

Physical Courage vs. Moral Courage

In noting the distinction between physical and moral courage, Mark Twain once wrote: "It is curious that physical courage should be so common in the world and moral courage so rare."

True, it is rare. There are many physically courageous people who would rather die in a cause they know to be unjust than to stand alone, risking the scorn of the world, and say, “Hell no, I won’t go.” Therefore, when we see such rare moral courage, we should take note of it:

US soldier refuses to serve in 'illegal Iraq war'

Thursday, May 15, 2008

The Reality Police

News Item: In early September, the Wikipedia inner circle banned edits from 1,000 homes and one massive online retailer in an attempt to suppress the voice of one man. His name is Judd Bagley, and when the ban came down, he hadn't edited Wikipedia in over a year. He was merely writing about the site, from his own domain. The Wikipedia elite blacklisted Judd Bagley because he accused them of using their powers to hijack realityREAD MORE

Yes, how comforting it is to know that Wikipedia is on the job, policing reality. Reality, is after all, our most precious resource.

By the way, speaking of Wikipedia, I stand corrected. A Wikipedian of somewhat kindlier disposition than is common among Wikipedians informs me that the sixth day has not yet been reached. Today is Day Five, meaning that the Deciders at Wikipedia have until some time after midnight to reach a decision on my notability.

When that happens, I expect I will feel a let-down, whichever way the decision falls. Because I have discovered that I like this state of indecision. I like the way, when my article pops up, you're immediately confronted with the message that says the article is being considered for deletion. I like it because it's an attention grabber. It arouses curiosity. It causes people to scroll down and read the article closer than they might have otherwise, and when they've read it, to scratch their heads and wonder why it's being deleted.

But, alas ... sooner or later, a decision will be reached. And then, Wikipedia will either delete or keep the article.

And I'm okay with being deleted. More than okay, in fact. Why, I think it would almost be better than this continued state of indecision, because if the article is deleted, I will become conspicuous by my absence. All my peers, all my friends in the alternative/underground comic scene will be on Wikipedia, but I won't be there. And this will cause people to wonder why. And then they will discover that my absence is not due to happenstance. No, it wasn't because someone forgot to write an article about me. I didn't fall through the cracks. No, I was actively deleted! I and only I! Now that is notability.

The only thing that could be better would be if Wikipedia did to me what they did to Mr. Judd Bagley cited in the news article above: banned edits from me and all my neighbors in Austin for criticizing Wikipedia on my own website. Publicity like that you can't buy.

Okay, let's check in at Wikipedia Decision Center, and see if they've come to a decision ...


No, they're still trying to decide ...

Pentagon Carpet Bombs the Opposition in Cyberspace

Kurt Nimmo: As we know, however, the Pentagon’s target list is not confined to Russia and China. First and foremost, the Pentagon considers the civilian internet an “enemy weapons system,” as its Information Operations Roadmap makes obvious. “We Must Fight the Net. DoD [Department of Defense] is building an information-centric force. Networks are increasingly the operational center of gravity, and the Department must be prepared to ‘fight the net,’” the document declares. The PNAC neocons are fond of this idea — the idea that the entire internet is an enemy weapons system — and they wrote about it in their documents ... READ MORE

O'Reilly Goes Apeshit, Colbert Apes O'Reilly


Who Is Slim Virgin?

While waiting for a decision from the Deciders at Wikipedia Decision Central, I thought I'd kill some time by looking at the "history" of my Wikipedia article.

Oh, how interesting it turned out to be. For I found that, on April 21, 2006, none other than the notorious Wikipedia user Slim Virgin made a revision to my article in which she deleted (guess what!) mention of my appearance on the Alex Jones Show. SEE FOR YOURSELF!

In case you haven't heard of Slim Virgin, you should read the following articles about the infamous on-line spook:

From WikipediaReview.com: What We Know about Slim Virgin / a quickie summary

From WikipediaWatch.org: Spookypedia: SlimVirgin/Linda Mack/MI-5

Slim Virgin is not the Wikipedia user who nominated the Mack White article for deletion (more about that individual later), but if you look at the talk page regarding the nomination-for-deletion of the article you'll see that the paragraph regarding my appearances on the Alex Jones Show, Jack Blood's Deadline Live, and others was a chief point of contention. I say "was," because the paragraph has been removed in an effort to save the article from deletion.

And now let's check in at Wikipedia Decision Central to see if a decision has been decided upon by the Deciders ...


It appears that a decision has not been reached.

I don't get it. According to Wikipedia policy, decisions on article deletions are supposed to be reached within five days. But now, we are well in to the sixth day. This must be a harder than usual decision for the Deciders. Looks like we'll be waiting for a while.

While we're waiting, here are some stories about Wikipedia founder Jimbo Wales you will find amusing. Seems he helped his girlfriend Rachel Marsden "clean up" her Wikipedia entry:

The Dirtiest Wikipedia Sex Chat You Can Imagine

Is Jimmy Wales Getting Wikipedia in Legal Trouble?

That Jimbo Wales feller sure is a stinker, ain't he?

Now here's a quote from Jimbo:

"I think that one of the great strengths of the open collaborative approach is the fast and powerful destruction of untenable conspiracy theories. It is quite easy to watch a pseudo-documentary like ``Loose Change" and to find it compelling, until you back up and do some homework with the help of sites like Wikipedia."--Jimbo Wales,[1]02:48, 7 July 2006 (UTC); from the "9/11 Conspiracy Theories Page" of campaigns.wikia

Kinda' tells you everything you need to know about Wikipedia, doesn't it? Yep, it sure sounds like a shady operation to me.

Okay, it's been, what, ten whole minutes. Let's check back in to Wikipedia Decision Central ...


Still no decision.

Well, while we're waiting, here's something else funny you can read. It's from EncyclopediaDramatica: SlimVirgin ...

Okay, we've read the funny article about Slim Virgin. It's getting late. Surely, the Deciders have reached a decision by now. Let's check in with them ...


Oh, for Christ's sake, they still haven't reached a decision. I wish they would shit or get off the pot. How difficult can it be? Am I notable or not? All the references are in my article. I passed the "Google test" for notability. What are they waiting for?

Oh to hell with it. I'm going to bed ...

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

DECISION 2008: Bulletin

No, a decision has not yet been reached, but we have obtained this exclusive, live webcam view of the scene at Wikipedia Command Central as administrators examine an Austin American-Statesman article about Mack White in an effort to reach an informed decision on his notability.

The Drama Continues

DECISION 2008 ... the drama continues ...

So far, there has been no decision, but we are expecting it momentarily, the answer to the question, Is Mack White Notable?

Even now, as I write this, the geniuses at Wikipedia are conferring, trying to arrive at a decision. Perhaps, at this very moment, a decision has already been reached and a Wikipedia administrator is pushing the delete button that will send my article, along with the articles about G. Edward Griffin, Jack Blood, and so many other activists, straight down the ol' Memory Hole.

Oh, it is so odd ... so, very very odd, that out of all the artists listed on Wikipedia's List of Comics Journal interview subjects (in itself a sign of notability) I alone should have been singled out for deletion.

SMiles and I discussed this matter last night on PsiOp Radio. (Click here to listen.) On that show, I solemnly vowed that, if my article is deleted, I will go on a hunger strike until it is restored.

I said it, and I meant it. Don't think for one moment I was kidding. Unless this Wikipedia matter is resolved to my satisfaction, I will go on a hunger strike. I will refuse to eat my Wheaties. I will skip an entire breakfast, oh yes I will. Surely, the great Deciders at Wikipedia would not want that on their conscience.

Speaking of food, here are some pictures of me shucking oysters in Port Aransas last week:






Yum! Don't that look tasty?

Now, here's a picture of me enjoying that fine ocean air ...

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

DECISION 2008: Is Mack White Notable?

What-Me-Notable?

"The rumors of my non-notability have been greatly exaggerated."—Mack White, with apologies to Mark Twain

The clock is ticking. The world awaits Wikipedia's decision on this burning question: Is Mack White notable? Or (gulp) ... is he not?

SMiles Lewis and I will be covering this historic decision LIVE TONIGHT on PSI-OP RADIO and discussing Wikipedia in general. We will also discuss the latest news regarding Big Brother surveillance, police brutality, the destruction of the Bill of Rights, forced immunizations, mass poisonings, false-flag terrorism, assassination, torture, war, and all the other kinds of monkey business we've come to expect from our government.

AND while you're listening to the show ... you can add your two-cents worth on these issues by calling us TOLL-FREE! Yes, it's now TOLL-FREE to call in to the show. Here's the number: (877) 738-3730.

The show starts at 8 pm EDT / 7 pm CDT / 6 MDT / 5 PDT/ 0100 UTC, and runs for two hours. To listen, go to either of these two networks: Revere Radio or Anomaly Radio.

Remember, if you miss the live broadcast, you can catch the show tomorrow in the PsiOp Radio Archives. But, if you can, please try to listen live so you can CALL US! ...

Saturday, May 03, 2008

Trip's End

Trip’s end … the sadness that it’s over, mixed with the yearning for home … plus I’m tired … and … moving … slow, due to my blistered feet … so many things I planned to see in Amsterdam, but they’ll have to wait for another time … I’m only able to check out the Rijksmuseum … and eat a hot dog in the nearby park (it’s a beautiful sunny day) and shop for souvenirs, high … no paranoia today, I am at peace … watching the boats on the canals, resting my blistered feet in a pub … dinner in another Turkish fast food place … then back to the hotel via Vondelpark … near the entrance of the park, I encounter a large group of scruffy characters … a big laughing bearded guy demands I buy him a beer … “give me a nickel!” he booms … I toss him a coin … then the guy beside him shouts “give me one too!” … I toss him one, then smile and wave and walk away before everyone starts demanding change … they wave back … the park is pleasant, couples strolling, children playing … I find a place where my smoke won’t bother anyone and sitting under a tree, light up … yes, Vondelpark is pleasant now, but I’ve been told it’s a place to avoid at night, due to the junkies … the scruffy boys aren’t so genial at that hour, nor likely to be satisfied with a Euro centavo …

Back in the hotel, I pack … then take a walk in the nearby park and smoke one more … then back in my room watch tv … the Simpsons subtitled in Dutch … Chandra calls and we arrange our meeting place at Central Station … main entrance, 8:30 … and set the alarm … and fall to sleep …

And in the morning while it’s still dark, take a shower, dress, then take one last walk in the nearby park and smoke … and toss my stash … regretfully … best to think of it as a sacrifice to the grass gods of Amsterdam … yes … some things must stay in Amsterdam …

Then check out of my hotel … I ask the Turkish desk clerk to call me a cab … nearby, a another hotel guest speaks up … he’s American … he talks like Jimmy Stewart … “hey,” he says, “maybe our friend will pick him up, I’ll bet he’s just around the corner” … the clerk hangs up and says to Jimmy Stewart: “yes, it’s him, he’s on the way” … I go outside to wait for the cab … the sun is coming up, bicycles stream past … Jimmy Stewart comes outside and says to me “this cabbie that’s gonna’ pick you up is a great guy, he just brought me here a few minutes ago. He saved my butt too. I had some papers for a meeting that a colleague gave me and darn it if I didn’t leave ‘em in the cab. We called the cab company and lucky for me this fellow was only a few blocks away. Brought ‘em right back to me and saved my butt …” the cab pulls up, and the cab driver, an older Dutchman in a suit, gets out … Jimmy Stewart thanks him again for saving his butt … the driver smiles and deposits my luggage in the trunk and off we go …

“Did you have a good time in Amsterdam?” the driver asks … “yes, I did” … “did you go to the Red Light District” he asks, smiling up into the rear view mirror … “no,” I laugh, “no Red Light District for me” … we’re traveling through the central part of Amsterdam … “you chose a good part of town to stay in,” he says, shaking his head “up here there’s too many different kinds of people all together … too many Turks …” at Central Station, we get out … he opens the trunk and hands me my luggage … I pay him … he smiles at the tip … “you are very kind,” he says, then leaning closer: “watch out for the junkies in Central Station” …

I make my way to what looks like the main entrance … it’s not very busy, which I attribute to the earliness of the hour … I buy some orange juice at a concession stand and stand with my luggage, waiting for Chandra to walk through the doors … we’re due to meet in about 30 minutes … a cop walks by … a few minutes later, I turn and see him standing behind me … he glances away … am I a suspicious character? … I go somewhere else to stand … I walk past the information desk … the man at the desk turns his head as I pass … I don’t like all this attention … I find a place where I can be by myself, but a few minutes later a young guy, long-haired with a scruffy beard, carrying a ragged shoulder bag, stands directly across from me … glances nervously over his shoulder, glances at me … does this several times … I get the feeling he wants to sell me whatever’s in his bag … my long hair makes him think I’m a potential buyer … this is one of those junkies I was warned about, a possible thief or street dealer you should never buy from … I walk away, find another place to stand … in a little while, three cops walk past me, one gives me a hard look … I get the feeling they think I’m a dealer … it’s my long hair … the cops walk on … then, after awhile, a black guy with dreadlocks materializes in front of me … tries to make eye contact … I walk away, find another place to stand, turn, and there he is … I go somewhere else, turn, there he is … wherever I go, there he is … he’s shadowing me … wants to sell me something … I decide to get rid of him by standing right beside the information counter … it works … he hurries outside … through the glass I see him running down the street … just then, the mobile phone in my pocket rings … it’s Chandra: “where are you?” … “in Central Station,” I say … “where in Central Station?” … “by the main entrance” … “no you’re not,” she says, “I’m by the main entrance” … I’m in the wrong place, I realize and tell her I’ll find her … I hurry down a long corridor and find myself in the real main entrance, a much busier place than where I was … I was in the exact place I should not be, the place where junkies dwell, the place where standing around for more than a few minutes brings you unwanted attention, both from junkies and the police who think you might be a junkie …

I rendezvous with Chandra … we board the train … no sooner are we settled in our seats than an announcement is made in Dutch and repeated in English that the train is not going anywhere … everyone has to get off and board another train … a group of confused young people are blocking the door … people shout at them “get off!” … they do … we hurry to the other train … board just in time … then we’re off to the airport … at the airport we go through the usual security nonsense, except we don’t have to take off our shoes … apparently, in Holland, they have not heard about shoe bombs … gratefully I walk through the metal detector with shoes on …

Our flight takes us to London, Gatwick Airport again … again we go through security … but this time have to take off our shoes … on the other side of the metal detector, I am frisked … then, while gathering up my shoes, laptop, coat, and carry-on-bag from the conveyor belt, notice my big white palm-leaf “Gus” hat is missing … Chandra tells the security people … turns out it’s stuck in the metal detector … they shut it down, someone fishes around inside it and pulls out my hat … a smiling security woman brings Bison Bill his hat, then we hurry to catch our plane to Dallas …

We take off … I look out the window at the passing earth below … the curious irregular patchwork that is England, unlike Holland which is more squared-off, like home … England passes, then Ireland … then ocean, and more ocean ... home is eight hours away … eight hours and an ocean away … home …

Thursday, April 17, 2008

The Netherlands, Part Six

The rain got heavier as I made my way north across the canals into the party district of Amsterdam. I took a break from the rain and stepped into a pub for a beer. In a little while, the rain let up, and I resumed my walk.

Tucked here and there among the restaurants and nightclubs were coffee shops. A friend had recommended two shops I should look for, and I had their addresses, but in the dark and confusion of the street it was awkward to consult the map. So I just walked around, hoping I would happen across one of them or, failing that, maybe find another one that looked right or had the right vibe.

I saw one that radiated bad vibes. Can't remember the name, but it was too big and crowded, too much flashing neon, loud music, large tv screens tuned to sports. No, I was looking for something something quieter, relaxing.

I found a few of these, but in each case grew indecisive before going inside. So I walking, kept looking. In a little while, I saw a closed sign on the door of a coffee shop. Uh-oh, I thought. I’m running out of time. I started back to one I had just seen, but now I couldn’t find it. Oh well, I thought, I'll just try the next one I see and hope for the best, if it's open.

The next one I saw was Stix, lit so dimly I wasn’t sure it was open. But when I tried the door it opened and I went inside. Very stark décor, black walls, and small, with only a few places to sit, one booth and some benches with ashtrays on tables. The booth was full (two couples talking American, something I hadn't heard in a while), but there was plenty of bench space.

A young man stood at the counter. I asked him what he recommended. "Do you want to get stoned or high?" he asked.

“High.”

In that case, he recommended the Diesel. He opened a cigar box packed full of thick fuzzy aromatic buds and held it up to me for inspection. Without hesitation, I said I would take five grams, the legal limit. He tore off a big beautiful bud and dropped it into a small zip-loc bag. I paid my 50 Euros (ouch), then sat down on a bench, rolled a joint, and lit up.

Two or three hits into the joint I realized I had not only spent too much money, I had also bought a lot more grass than I could possibly use. This was about a month's worth of smoking for me. Unfortunately, I would only be in Amsterdam for 36 more hours, and no way was I going to try taking this home.

It was also so strong, I realized, that if I smoked the entire joint I might have a hard time getting back to my hotel. So I smoked half, then dropped it into the zip-loc bag with the bud and stepped outside.

Now, which way had I come from? I couldn’t remember. My sense of direction was gone. It seemed like I had approached the shop from the left. That would mean I should turn right to go back the way I had come. This I did. But after walking a couple of blocks, I began to think I had made the wrong decision. Or had I? I couldn’t be sure. I kept walking. No, I'm going the wrong direction, I decided. Nothing looked familiar. And yet, maybe it only seemed unfamiliar due to my high state. The Diesel was powerful stuff. Under its effect, my own hometown would seem unfamiliar.

I kept walking. No, I thought, this isn’t right. I turned around. Bicycles whizzed past. I reminded myself about the bicycle lanes. High as I was, it would be very easy to forget.

I walked on. A tram passed, reminding me of a deadlier danger than bicycles. Whatever you do, I said to myself, stay the hell out of the way of those trams.

No sooner had this thought occurred to me than I saw the entire accident play out in my mind, with vivid realism: the moment of impact and horrible realization, the blood, the limbs flying—OH MY GOD I COULD DIE HERE!!!! I thought.

Don't panic. Just walk. Get to the hotel. Fast. So I walked. And walked.

Shortly, I thought I recognized my surroundings. I pulled out my map. If I was correct, Kerkstraat ws nearby. Yes, I thought, if I keep going this direction without getting hit by a tram, I'll come to Kerkstraat. And then on Kerkstraat, if I turn right (or is it left?) and keep going without getting hit by a tram, I should reach Weteringstrat (or is it Vijzelstraat? [no maybe it’s Stadhouderskade] no, it’s Kerkstraat—no wait a minute, I’m on Kerkstraat right now, I think) …

Whatever the name of the street was, it was a fairly quiet street, a good place to check my map without being observed. Standing under a street lamp, I took out the map. Then it occurred to me I could get mugged on a quiet street like this.

I glanced over my shoulder, saw no one, but that didn’t mean no one was there. Someone could be hiding, waiting for the right moment to pounce on me.

I put the map back in my pocket and started walking, quickly, aggressively. Don’t Act like you know where you’re going, I told myself. Don't act lost. And for God's sake get off this dark street. This may be a nice relaxed city in the daytime, but it’s nighttime now and several people warned me about the junkies. Albo’s words came back to me: “Be safe in Amsterdam, Mack.” His words seemed to be a presentiment. Something awful was about to happen. Again I thought, I could die here. Then, in a little while, as the paranoia increased, it was not a matter of "could." It would happen. Someone was following me, I was sure of it. I walked faster.

To my relief, I saw a more populated street ahead, a main thoroughfare that could only be Vijzelgracht, I thought, trying to remember a street I had glimpsed on the map. I hurried towards it, hopeful, but when I reached the intersection there were no street signs.

Doesn’t matter, I thought. I’ll just turn left (south?) and soon I’ll—I’ll what? I had no idea. I pulled out the map. Weteringschact should be right down there, I decided, and started in a southerly direction, or what I took to be a southerly direction.

In a little while I came to a street sign. Finally! I read it: Josef Israelskade.

Josef Israelskade? Where's Weteringschact? I took out the map and tried to find Josef Israelskade. I couldn't.

At this point it occurred to me I should look for a pub, go inside, find out where I am and ask directions to my hotel. But at the moment there were no pubs. Okay, I'll just keep walking till I find a pub.

I walked on. In a little while, I thought I recognized a street: Staadhouderskade! But no, it wasn't Staadhouderskade, it was some other street, Weteringschact or Rostenburgerstraat or Sint Willibrordusstraat, or some other name.

This happened over and over again. I would think I had found my way, then after walking a long way to find a street sign, would discover it was another street with another strange name and it wasn't on the map. But then, I would start to get my bearings, I thought, and my heart would rebound, only to sink again, and each time sink lower as I began to come to grips with the truth I had been denying: I had no idea where I was, and the more I walked, the more lost I became. But it wouldn't do to stop walking, because my only hope was to keep moving, in the hopes I would somehow stumble on wherever it was I was needed to be to get back to the hotel.

It was a terrible dilemma, made nightmarish by the foreignness of the names—Quellijnstraat, Wouwermanstraat, Uiterwaardenstraat—and, of course, the Diesel.

I walked on, looking for a pub. Earlier they had been everywhere. Now I couldn't find any. I had seen cabs earlier too, and foolishly hadn't hailed one. That was what I really needed, because now, to make matters worsse, my feet were blistering.

The blisters were slowing my gait. That was no good, I remembered. Got to walk aggressively, don't look lost, etc. I picked up the pace. Faster and faster I walked, faster and faster, ignoring the pain in my feet. Faster and faster. Someone jumped out of my way.

Okay, maybe I’m walking a little too fast, I thought. I slowed down. Then, up ahead I saw an Amstel beer sign over a doorway. A pub!

I went inside. It was busy. I found a place at the bar and ordered an Amstel. When the bartender brought it to me, I asked if he could help me get a cab.

“Do you want it later or right now?”

“Right now.”

He went into the back and called the cab. I took a long, soothing drink of the Amstel. Ah yes ...

In a little while, the bartender told me the cab was out front. I left a couple of Euros on the bar, then hurried outside. “Best Western Delphi Hotel,” I told the cab driver, “on Apollolaan.”

Helooked at me quizzically for a moment, then shrugged and off we went. In my pocket my cell phone rang. It was Chandra, back from a day trip to Delft, calling from her bed-and-breakfast to see if I had arrived in Amsterdam. “Yes,” I said, “I’m in a cab right now going back to my hotel. Let’s talk after I get there.”

I sank back comfortably in my seat, relieved after my long nightmarish paranoid walk, to have heard Chandra's voice and now be off my feet and heading for the hotel. Or was I? The cab, I noticed, was moving through dark back streets. Was this like a Mexican cab where they took you to the edge of nowhere and robbed you and left you for dead. But, before I could get too paranoid, the the cab came to a stop. We were already at the hotel! I couldn't believe it. The ride had taken less than a minute. I had assumed I was in an entirely wrong part of the city, but apparently, after all that walking, with no idea where I was going, I had somehow managed to end up just around the corner from my hotel. Which explained the driver's quizzical expression (you want me to take you around the corner?). I tipped him, perhaps (judging by his surprised smile) too generously, but I was happy and in a generous mood …

(to be continued)