SonOfASatyr
Member
It was a long day with me and my travel partner, we had been dropped off at a gas station between the cities of Utrecht and Antwerp, with our final destination being Amsterdam (which is farther away than Utrecht). For the whole day we tried using our sign to get straight to Amsterdam, but besides one guy who offered to take us a bit further down the road we couldn't get any rides.
For hours we wandered around the gas station with our dicks in our hands, and very little of note happened besides getting rejected for rides and trying some gas station food (which was on par with American food).
Eventually it was around 9, nearing 10, and we were through with thumbing it near the exit. We were making our way back to the gas station proper, making a plan for where we would sleep. Until I saw one of those tiny FIAT cars approaching, and I decided to throw out my thumb.
Before I knew it the car came to a halt next to us and an energetic Middle Eastern fellow and another, much calmer, African man stepped out of the car. Considering we were blocking the road we didn't bother with introductions, instead we piled our luggage into the car. My friend had the space to get her backpack into the car but my pack was larger, therefore I had to sit in the back with my pack. I was squished against the passenger seat, my foot wrapped around the seat belt and my backpack pressing into me as we made our way into the highway.
After some seconds of silence we started talking, and of course we started with some of the basic jokes about hitchhiking. We talked about being roaming cannibal murderers that liked to cook our victims, and the driver (Who was Turkish, as he told us) asked us this question.
" You kill people? I have job for you. "
And what proceeded to happen was one of the (and so far the only) most terrifying hitchhiking experiences I had to far. Because for the next 40 or so minutes we began talking to these fellows about life and their business.
For one, they were drug dealers from the city of Breda, Holland, a few miles south of us (before we drove of course) and they were driving over to Utrecht for some sort of drug deal. The turk told us about his life, how he'd gotten busted for a 10 kilo coke bust (which may have been a lie), how he ' turns people into pavement, ' and the fact that he was ' millionaire ' for the entire ride. He drove like a daredevil and I'm grateful we hadn't gotten into any accidents during the ride.
The man next to him was some flavor of African, as I could tell by his accent, though I never asked his country of origin. He was much calmer, cool, and collected than his Turkish colleague, and he was quite open to talking. I didn't get to learn much about him before we left.
While on the road we ended up stopping at another gas station for a few moments. First we pulled aside to get our bags in order (which I was grateful for to not be crushed by them anymore) and continued our ride. We pulled over one more time and I ended up watching the turk pull out a pipe and smoke something. I thought he was smoking weed at first, but then the scent hit my nose. It was some sort of acrid chemical sort of odor, and it caused a cough my friend had to get even worse. Somewhere in my mind I knew it was meth, and I was instantly terrified. Paranoia creeped into my mind as I wondered what would happen next, though I calmed myself down and we kept driving.
After a while we finally made our way to Utrecht, supposedly in the ghetto. It was a very nice set of flats, and I jokingly remarked to our hosts " This is the nicest ghetto I've ever been in. " Which it was. Soon the turk hopped out the car and ran into the nearby flat, doing the deal while we sat in the car. We then proceeded to talk with the African fellow (who was named James) who was quite an open book and interested in our adventure. Time and time again he would laugh and call us daredevils for hitchhiking and living the way we do, which I took as quite the compliment considering he was a drug dealer who had his own dangers and crazy shenanigans.
But soon enough we were able to wiggle ourselves out of there, especially since James quite comedically said " We are not holding you hostage here, you can leave whenever you want. " We were able to leave and find ourselves a place to stay the night, of course not before the turk left and I got his number, and he quite profusely offered us dinner on his dime. While I wouldn't mind to have dinner paid for by a drug dealer, something told me to pass on the offer and go on to the next adventure.
That was my most interesting story of my travels in Europe this far, of at least of the hitchhiking portion of the saga. There's smaller tales here and there I'll post more and again, but this will be my first considering it was such a memorable experience.
For hours we wandered around the gas station with our dicks in our hands, and very little of note happened besides getting rejected for rides and trying some gas station food (which was on par with American food).
Eventually it was around 9, nearing 10, and we were through with thumbing it near the exit. We were making our way back to the gas station proper, making a plan for where we would sleep. Until I saw one of those tiny FIAT cars approaching, and I decided to throw out my thumb.
Before I knew it the car came to a halt next to us and an energetic Middle Eastern fellow and another, much calmer, African man stepped out of the car. Considering we were blocking the road we didn't bother with introductions, instead we piled our luggage into the car. My friend had the space to get her backpack into the car but my pack was larger, therefore I had to sit in the back with my pack. I was squished against the passenger seat, my foot wrapped around the seat belt and my backpack pressing into me as we made our way into the highway.
After some seconds of silence we started talking, and of course we started with some of the basic jokes about hitchhiking. We talked about being roaming cannibal murderers that liked to cook our victims, and the driver (Who was Turkish, as he told us) asked us this question.
" You kill people? I have job for you. "
And what proceeded to happen was one of the (and so far the only) most terrifying hitchhiking experiences I had to far. Because for the next 40 or so minutes we began talking to these fellows about life and their business.
For one, they were drug dealers from the city of Breda, Holland, a few miles south of us (before we drove of course) and they were driving over to Utrecht for some sort of drug deal. The turk told us about his life, how he'd gotten busted for a 10 kilo coke bust (which may have been a lie), how he ' turns people into pavement, ' and the fact that he was ' millionaire ' for the entire ride. He drove like a daredevil and I'm grateful we hadn't gotten into any accidents during the ride.
The man next to him was some flavor of African, as I could tell by his accent, though I never asked his country of origin. He was much calmer, cool, and collected than his Turkish colleague, and he was quite open to talking. I didn't get to learn much about him before we left.
While on the road we ended up stopping at another gas station for a few moments. First we pulled aside to get our bags in order (which I was grateful for to not be crushed by them anymore) and continued our ride. We pulled over one more time and I ended up watching the turk pull out a pipe and smoke something. I thought he was smoking weed at first, but then the scent hit my nose. It was some sort of acrid chemical sort of odor, and it caused a cough my friend had to get even worse. Somewhere in my mind I knew it was meth, and I was instantly terrified. Paranoia creeped into my mind as I wondered what would happen next, though I calmed myself down and we kept driving.
After a while we finally made our way to Utrecht, supposedly in the ghetto. It was a very nice set of flats, and I jokingly remarked to our hosts " This is the nicest ghetto I've ever been in. " Which it was. Soon the turk hopped out the car and ran into the nearby flat, doing the deal while we sat in the car. We then proceeded to talk with the African fellow (who was named James) who was quite an open book and interested in our adventure. Time and time again he would laugh and call us daredevils for hitchhiking and living the way we do, which I took as quite the compliment considering he was a drug dealer who had his own dangers and crazy shenanigans.
But soon enough we were able to wiggle ourselves out of there, especially since James quite comedically said " We are not holding you hostage here, you can leave whenever you want. " We were able to leave and find ourselves a place to stay the night, of course not before the turk left and I got his number, and he quite profusely offered us dinner on his dime. While I wouldn't mind to have dinner paid for by a drug dealer, something told me to pass on the offer and go on to the next adventure.
That was my most interesting story of my travels in Europe this far, of at least of the hitchhiking portion of the saga. There's smaller tales here and there I'll post more and again, but this will be my first considering it was such a memorable experience.
