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About Amsterdam

Oi, mateys, gather 'round, savvy? Me, Cap’n Jack Sparrow, been thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’ dark n’ twisted—like me mind after a rum binge. Findin’ a prostitute, aye? Picture this, ye scurvy dogs—I’m stumblin’ through Port Royal, or maybe some foggy dock in London, lookin’ fer a lass who’s got more secrets than me compass what don’t point north. “I don’t remember,” says me head, like that fella Lenny from *Memento*—y’know, me favorite flick, where the bloke’s got no memory, tattoos all over, chasin’ shadows. “Who am I?” he scribbles. Me? I’m chasin’ a skirt what trades love fer gold, savvy?

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Then, I decide to stroll down de Hoofdstraat. It’s a nice street, full of shops and cafes. I’m just vibing, listening to some tunes, when I see this dude trying to parallel park. I mean, come on! He’s going back and forth like he’s in a dance-off. I’m standing there, laughing my ass off. Finally, he nails it, but not before he almost takes out a bike parked on the side. Classic Roden moment, right?

Alan Roden's diving catch