TRIBUTE TO A FUCKFACE

I got to know Markus in the skatepark, of all places, probably during one of my shifts. He was looking for places to skate and I think the park was the first thing he hit. Living in that shithole called Amsterdam North made it even easier for him to go skate Everland, I guess. Well, he actually lived in a really charming part of North, but still, it is North, therefore it is a shithole.

Ok, back to the park. Since my boss won’t let me skate during work (yeah I know, it’s ridiculous) and since Markus usually started his skate session at the bar, this was the place we first met. I have no clue how it all went down, because at our first encounter I couldn’t care less; I had never seen the dude before. This all changed quickly, I must say. Somehow I got to know a lot about this creature called Markus Nagler in no time. Probably cause he’s a really open and forward person and probably cause our own Marcel kind of started showing off with his knowledge of Austria, having been an “Anwerter” and all.

Anyhow, we soon developed a relation based on calling each other ‘fuckface’, ‘pisshead’, ‘shitfuck’ and other words similar. So Markus would enter the park or call me on my mobile saying: “Ey, you fucker, wassup?” with me responding something like “I’m OK, you shitball.”. We kept this tradition alive all the time he was here. Even now, we keep continuing this beautiful way of saying hi to each other. Apparently it’s a universal language, gotta luv it.

So, as I told you before, in the beginning we shared most of our time at the bar in the skatepark, talking about bullshit or talking about serious stuff in our lives, whatever came up. That was one thing I really liked about him; the fact that we could switch any conversation from talking shit to talking quality with ease. One topic we’ve discussed on more than one occasion was his old girlfriend. She really had him going, whether it’s in a good way or in a bad way. It was one hell of an appearance, the way I saw her when she visited him here in Amsterdam. Markus, you dawg! But, being a decent fella and all, I won’t discuss her any further, for I know this is a pretty personal matter for our Austrian friend. What I do want to say though, I met another Austrian woman through him, or should I say Greek…let’s just say both.

One of Markus’ lady friends was visiting from Austria during Queensday. She was with a girlfriend, the lovely Karoline, who in turn, really had/has me going. Truly an amazing woman and I love the time I’ve spent with her. Thanks for that Markus. Tell her I want a reprise, and another reprise, and another, and another.
Also, thanks for all the good times we’ve had and all the things we did, duder.

Things like chilling on the NDSM hill slope in front of the skatepark with a cold brewski, chilling in the bar with a cold brewski, chilling at the dock of the bay with a cold brewski.
Things like an Austrian giving an Amsterdam local a tour through Amsterdam.
Things like hanging on a rooftop. (I know how much you love that.)
Things like passing out under an outdoor miniramp after some killer beach party.
Things like walking in the middle of f@#$%ng nowhere, in the middle of the f@#$%ng night, completely drunk, trying to find your way home, after a boat party that started in Amsterdam and ended way way waaay out of Amsterdam.
Things like that frontal crash we had with each other, skating the miniramp during half time Holland – Russia/France. (That crash was Stanley “My Arm Hurts” Muller’s fault by the way.)
Things like how Stanley got that particular nickname.
Things like all of a sudden, while riding shotgun at more than moderate speed, becoming what he used to be back in the day: An out bursting, German-screaming, scary driving-instructor. (I think the scare combined with laughter actually made me lose a few drops of urine on that one.)
Things like frontside noseblunt nollie flip out.
Things like not smoking weed.
Things like drinking more beer for compensation.
Things like really bright yellow shoes.
Things like scarring away women with that jungle he calls his chest.
Things like attracting other women with that same jungle.
Things like sitting on a chair placed on top of a table, then getting too excited watching a soccer match, then being confronted with the good ol’ 9,81 meters per second called gravity, while halfway through a sentence.
Things like having some sort of Happy Meal horn on your bike, but still go faster than all the locals from Amsterdam.
Things like racing each other to the worst smelling outside toilet in the city, just because we really wanted to use it.
Things like all the skate sessions we had.
Things like these, just to name a few.

Nagler, you fuckface, it’s the things like these that make you an Amsterdam local….. make that Mokum local.
“Eej, ja toch, niet dan!”
“Ey, oprapen die steen!”
“Neuken in de keuken.”
“Mag ik nog een biertje alsjeblieft.”
“Ah, what a nice little KUT town!”
“I can not skate like this !!!!”
“Shut up, you fucking fucktoilet!”

Markus, I’ll be seeing you, mate.
Respect from me and all the fellas over here.

Muffy