I met Nick in a very strange place.  We met in the women's room of a downtown Istanbul hotel.  I was a struggling artist so I took all sorts of odd jobs to make ends meet. Well, I had run up my bar tab at the hotel and didn't have the cash to pay it. I agreed to work off the debt and found myself cleaning the bathrooms. After I entered the door marked Bayan (woman) I heard a noise. I opened a stall with my mop in hand and found a scruffy Nick writing on the wall with a black marker. He was writing- For a Good Time Call Nick at (phone number). He was dressed in a maroon leather jacket and had a red bandana tied around his neck. I think he was humming the Tom Waites tune - The Heart of Saturday Night, as he scribbled his message there. I brought the mop up and started to swing, but he shouted, "No! Wait! Let's talk about this."  He was embarassed as hell to be caught in the lady's room and he was eager to offer me a deal.  I told him my situation at the hotel bar and he quickly took care of the bill and then invited me around the corner to a sidewalk cafe-bar. 

Where Is My Hat? 

He ordered a bottle of Raki, ice, water and a bag of sunflower seeds.  We began to talk.  He wanted to explain why he was writing on bathroom walls. I was busy sucking down the lion's milk and pealing sunflower seeds. I wasn't paying much attention, so I really don't remember much of what he said or for that matter the whole afternoon. I got pretty plastered.  I do remember that at one point I grabbed his red bandana and tied it to the stupid stove pipe hat that I wore in those days. That hat is long gone now- lost in some Taksim dive or Beyoglou alley. Nick and I hung out for a few more days drinking and checking out the hot Istanbul babes. And, yes, if you were wondering, he did get a phone call or two.

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