Chapter 14 - Guerilla Marketing, Real Estate & Big Visions

After a few great years working at the Irish Bank, I decided it was time for a change.  I didn’t know what I wanted to do next.  I just knew I wanted to make more money and not have to work nights for the rest of my life.  Late one night, I came home from work and put on the TV.  It was about 4am and there was an informercial on with some cheesy dude talking about how he made millions from buying real estate with “Zero Money Down.”  As cheesy as he was, I was blown away listening to what he had to say.  So I ended up buying his CD's (“Real Estate Riches”).

This was around 2004/2005 and everybody and their mother were talking about real estate.  So I decided to get my real estate licence and jump on the bandwagon.

I ended up getting a job through a craigslist posting as a “Loan Officer” for a Mortgage Brokerage.  The brokerage was called Specialty Funding  - it was run by three Jordanian brothers, George, Faris and Fadi.  These guys were super cool, extremely knowledgeable, very down to earth and very ambitious.  Real good people to be around.  My job as a Loan Officer was to find potential home buyers and people who wanted to refinance their existing mortgages and take advantage of the lower interest rates and home loan programs.

Even though I was working for a broker I was basically working for myself.  To say the least, it was a bit nerve racking at first.  I had to find all my own customers and it was 100% commission based.  This was completely new to me.  Like most folks in real estate, I was thrown in the deep end and after some mortgage finance training, I had to hit the streets on my own and find customers.

I started off the traditional route by calling all my friends and also going to networking event after networking event.  My goal was to become friends with CPA’s, Real Estate Agents, Real Estate Attorney’s and Financial Planners in hopes that they would refer business to me.  It was tough. Most events I went to were full of other mortgage brokers all on the same mission.  And I never felt that comfortable trying to befriend Real Estate Agents/CPA’s etc... who didn’t really have any interest in talking to me either.  They knew I was looking for business from them.  

The networking approach wasn’t working very well for me, so I decided to take the fight to the streets.  Proper guerilla marketing style.  I used to print up 3000 fliers per week and hit the streets with approx 500 flyers a day.  I put them on cars behind windshield wipers, in mail boxes,  anywhere and everywhere I could.  I used to wait outside the front door of large apartment complexes and when someone came out I’d walk in and start on the top floor and put flyers under every door from the the top floor to the bottom floor.  Sometimes I’d get chased out by property managers.  I also nailed 24” X 24” ugly yellow signs to lamp posts on all the major intersections around San Francisco with the words “3 Bed, 2 Bath House For Sale, $2500 per month, Zero Down Payment, Free Recorded Message”.  I had a free 1-800 number with a recorded message with me talking about how you could buy a house with no money down - the message lasted about two minutes long.  I could then see on a software program called “call capture” how long someone listened to my message.  If they listened for the whole duration and left me a message I knew they were somewhat serious.  I would then follow up with a call and then a meeting.  Yet again, it was a complete numbers game.  

I used to have all sorts of weirdos leaving me messages, especially over the weekend in the early hours of the morning.  Obviously people on the way back from the bar drunk.   Some were sincere and some would shout crazy abuse down the phone.  The ones who shouted abuse down the phone never expected me to call them back, and I would.  It used to really shock them when they would get a call at 11am on a Monday morning asking them what their issue was.  Even if you pressed *67 trying to hide your number before you called, call capture would still get your number.

By law, I had to put my Brokers License number on all my marketing material.  After a few months of me blanketing the city with ugly yellow signs and flyers, my broker called me into his office and told me that he had gotten quite a few complaints from the City & County of San Francisco and I had to stop with the flyers and signs.  

It worked for a while so I couldn’t complain, I’m still friends with quite a few people that I met through my ugly yellow signs and flyers.  I then teamed up with a Russian guy named Vlad who worked in the same office as me and had the same vision which was to to build a real estate empire.  Our only obstacle was, we didn’t have any money.  So, we put the the Zero Down thing to the test.  We bought two houses in San Francisco at the same time with no money down. We then rented them out and refinanced them after a few months after we did a new paint job and maybe some new flooring if needed.  Then we took out a line of credit on each of them and used that money to purchase some commercial properties in upstate New York through a lender called Greenpoint.  Greenpoint would allow you to buy commercial property with only putting 10% of the selling price down, then allow the seller to finance 10% and the bank would lend us the remaining 80%.  This was unheard of in commercial property.  This was 2006/2007, and the real estate market was very different back then.  Not long after, Greenpoint went bust with lots of other banks.

Vlad and I had a big visions.  Our goal was to buy distressed commercial properties all over the US do some work on them, bring them up to scratch and positive cash flowing and eventually have one property manager run everything.  Things went great for a while.  We had some commercial property in upstate New York that paid us enough passive income each month to pay our living expenses and travel.  During my free time, I did some courses on how to trade the stock market and started day trading futures,  that was an eye opener.  

It actually seemed like our plan was working, until....  We cashed out some money from our buildings in New York and bought some more commercial property in Huntsville, Alabama.  Our goal was to fix it up, rent it out and then refinance again, pay our creditors back and still have enough money left to go again.  Naive and silly, we left the remodel of the Alabama property in the hands of a young property manager who talked a great game and didn’t deliver on his word.  And like many people all over the world, we got stuck in the middle of the credit crisis and couldn’t get the bank to refinance our new property in time.  We were left with a pretty big monthly holding cost that we couldn’t sustain for much longer unless we got the refinance sorted out.

Lessons I learned from this Chapter in my life.

1. Guerilla marketing really works :)

2. Don’t ever leave your business in the hands of someone else to look after.  Nobody will care for it as much as you do.

3. Yet again, sales is a total numbers game.

Till Next Time

Cheers

Gerry :)

Chapter 13 - The Irish Bank, War Pigs And Boat Parties

After hearing there was good money to be made working in Irish bars, I went on a mission to find a cool Irish Bar to work in. For about three weeks, I hit the streets with introduction letters and resumes showing all my bartending skills etc. I visited lots of different Irish bars in the city, but ended up narrowing the job search down to one bar in the financial district called “The Irish Bank.” It was a cool Irish bar that was super busy with young bankers and up and coming tech guys. With some persistence, I ended up getting a job there as a bar back (picking up glasses and making sure the bar was fully stocked at all times). I was prepared to do anything just to get my foot in the door.

When I came in for my first day of work, I got formally introduced to three bartenders, all from Ireland: Eamon from Kerry, Kevin from Donegal and a guy called Dahi from Armagh in the North of Ireland. That name sounded familiar so I asked Dahi where in Armagh he was from, not that I had ever been to Armagh. He said “Blackwater Town” and gave me a funny look, as if to say “What do you know about Armagh?” Suddenly a light bulb went off in my head and I heard that “twilight zone music.” Then I asked him, “do you know Dermy Finn?” This really threw him off. “How the fuck do you know Dermy Finn?” he said all serious. I then told him the story of how Dermy and I worked together on a building site in Australia and him telling me about San Francisco and the Burning Man etc... Here I was on the other side of the planet just by chance running into the guy my friend in Australia was telling me about. Pretty crazy to say the least!!!


I started working Friday and Saturday nights collecting glasses and within a few months I was working four to five nights a week bartending making decent money and at last saving a few dollars again. I loved it. Bartending in the U.S. is way different than bartending anywhere else. In the States, it’s all about being social, friendly and taking care of your customers and in turn, they tip you out well. In most other countries when working in a bar, it’s about dishing out as much drink as possible as quickly as possible. Customer service is not always the best -- in fact, it’s usually shit. But I guess when you’re relying on tips, you have no choice but to be personable, which I gotta admit came pretty natural to me.

There was a real good group of us working in the Irish bank. I used to work with a crazy girl called Melissa. Melissa was so much fun to work with. She was stone mad. She had a husky voice and was a hardcore drinker and smoker. We used to work some day shifts together. She was waitressing and I was bartending. We’d usually both come in a bit hungover and we’d start the day off with a few shots. Melissa would set up her tables in the restaurant and then come back into the bar, grab a bottle of bud and another shot, and put the craziest heavy metal tunes on in the jukebox, like “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath. This was on a Tuesday afternoon at lunch time. We had people from all walks of life coming into the Irish Bank. That’s what was so cool about it. Every week like clockwork for about six months a lunatic called Kenneth (Crazy Kenny) used to come into the bar every week to visit us. He’d also put the craziest music in the jukebox and start dancing next to it as if it was last orders on a Saturday night. And Melissa would join him. It was hilarious. The business folks who came in for lunch didn’t know what to make of it. Some would laugh and some would frown. Kenneth used to tip me really well so, of course, I used to give him double shots. Then Jacques (The Manager) came in one day for some lunch on his day off and asked Kenneth to relax. Kenneth got all pissed off saying that he paid for the songs in the jukebox and was entitled to dance beside it. So Jacques fucked him out and barred him from the Bank (or as they say in the States, 86ed him).

Then, on the other side of the scale, we’d have some young executives from PayPal. I remember one guy in particular: Jack Selby. He used to tip really well. I asked him one night what he did for a living and he said he was out of work right now and wasn’t sure if he was going to go back. He was 29 and had the option of never working again. Now, that’s pretty fucken cool and inspirational.

Not only did I get a new job that I loved, I also got a new place to live. Dahi had a spare room in his house and offered it to me, Thank God. The hostel was getting a bit out of hand and it was time to move on. Dahi, his brother Mark and their friend Austy, all lived together in an apartment in the heart of Haight Ashbury. It was pretty wild to say the least. There was no shortage of people to go out on the town with. Sundays and Mondays were my weekend. So Austy and I would do a pub crawl every Monday day even though he was meant to be in working on the building site. He’d usually go back to work late on a Tuesday or Wednesday morning. We had some fun times on those Monday afternoon sessions in Haight Street. Through Dahi, I got introduced to a whole new group of friends -- a lot from the North of Ireland through his football team and a lot of people in the bar and nightclub scene. He was like an older brother to me and had no problem putting me straight when I got out of hand. 

The two of us would work Saturday nights together and instead of having me just collect glasses doing the bar back work (as my job was) he’d let me bartend and split the tips with me 50/50 which was pretty cool. A lot of bartenders and waiters from all the other bars and restaurants downtown used to drink in our bar. It was unreal. We used to look after the other industry folks pretty well -- these guys would tip the best. Because I worked in the Irish Bank, I could drink for free in nearly all the bars in the downtown area. Once you get into the bar scene and you treat other bar staff well, it can be pretty amazing. Some nights after work we’d make our way up to the StarLight Room a snazzy nightclub on the top floor of the St. Francis Drake Hotel for a lock in. The manager at the time “Billy” used to open up the whole bar and a few of us would sit there till early hours of the morning drinking and chatting while looking out over Union Square. 

Dahi was always talking about cool ideas and businesses he was going to start. He was a real go getter and was constantly working on something. When I first met him, he used to hold boat parties on a small boat called the “Angel Island Express.” He used to fill the boat up with booze and put a DJ booth in the corner and hold a rave on the boat for hours cruising around San Francisco Bay. In the beginning, it was all the Irish lads from the Gaelic football team and their friends that would come out to support him. Then slow but sure, he had clubbers from all over the Bay Area coming to party on much bigger boats. The word about his boat parties spread like wildfire. I remember in the beginning, a few of us would go out to Berkeley University with Dahi handing out flyers to students trying to hustle them onto the boat. And then a year later, tickets would sell out in a few days. It was so inspirational to see it grow.

One lesson that I took from this period in my life was, relationships (real relationships) are one of the most valuable things this world has to offer. Make sure to cherish them and appreciate the times together, as you just never know what the future holds.

Till Next Time

Cheers 

Gerry :)

"As long as i'm breathing i'll never quit" Gerry Kelly 2011

Chapter 12 - My First Few Months In San Francisco

After a 10 hour bus ride from LA, my buddy Des and I arrived in San Francisco on a cloudy Tuesday morning in September 2000. We made our way to the Pacific Tradewinds Hostel in Chinatown. We couldn't book in until 4pm, so we relaxed for a few hours in Union Square drinking coffee with our backpacks wondering what the fuck were we going to do next.

While sitting in Union Square, I got talking to an Italian guy who had just traveled around South America and funded his whole trip teaching English. He said he had done a course called TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) just up the Street from Union Square in a language school and could literally travel anywhere in the world and teach English with his certificate. 

“Pretty cool,” I thought. So after we settled into the hostel, I went in search of the language school he had talked about. I had a vision of myself travelling around South America teaching English. I enrolled in and completed an 8 week TEFL course that took place two nights a week at the school. 

We stayed the maximum allowed in the hostel which was only two weeks and then had no choice but to leave and find another place to stay. I called my family in Ireland one day and spoke to my sister. She told me that she had spoke to one of our cousins and they said that their brother Padraic (my cousin) was living in San Francisco. It was probably 20 years since I had last seen Padraic. She had a number for me to call, which I immediately called. It turned out he was a painting contractor in San Francisco. After a quick surprise call to him, we hooked up for a few beers and the next day I was painting retail stores and houses in San Francisco. Thank God for that because I had run out of money and was thinking about packing up everything and just going home. The first job I worked on was a pretty cool fashion forward boutique called “Villians” on Haight Street. We painted it some cool funky green and purple colors. I used to spend most of my wages buying clothing in Haight Street. It used to have the coolest stores in San Francisco. Mind you, it still has some amazing vintage boutiques.

Then, we were painting some beautiful houses in the Marina district. It blew me away that these houses were owned by young tech millionaires in their early 20’s. I had arrived in San Francisco at the height of the dot com boom in 2000, which was a pretty crazy/interesting time to be in San Francisco. It’s actually very much what it’s like right now.

Also, it was extremely tough to get an apartment to rent, especially with no references and no deposit etc. So Des & I sniffed out another hostel in an area called “The Tenderloin.” To say the least, the hostel was ok but the area was a shit hole. It was crack head central. It was crazy. We had bums literally sleeping outside our front door and fights on the corner all night long. There was a sleazy strip joint next door to us too. Every night at about 3am a Chinese woman used to empty all the trash cans on the sidewalk in front of the hostel and dig through the trash for cans and bottles to turn in for cash. There was a lot of activity.

Our hostel was full of long term backpackers in transit, some guys had come to SF for a week and were still there three years later. I gotta admit, it was fun and a great place to get situated, meet people and get work. There was always something going on. There were guys and girls from all over the world. Most people were working in construction or bar work. There was a bar directly underneath the hostel called “Reds Corner” where a lot of backpackers used to hang out. I got a job bar tending two nights a week for a few weeks filling in for a guy who went back to Ireland for vacation. I’ll never forget it. At the time, people used to smoke in bars. They had some loophole. If it was owner operated, you could smoke etc…

One night, I was working with the manager, a hardcore New Yorker called Tommy. Tommy looked like he smoked 200 cigarettes a day and washed it down with a bottle of whisky. He had a face that was as rough as a badgers arse. I think Tommy grew up in the inner city Bronx and was mysteriously transplanted into the middle of the Tenderlion. All he knew was rough hardcore, no nonsense, carry a gun, knock you out type of shit. 

I’ll never forget one night when we were working together I asked him, “What’s the craic like in here on a Friday?” He gave me a strange look and said “same as every fucken day.” (Craic in Irish terms means Fun/Good times) Then, the same night, I asked him could I smoke a fag behind the bar. O man, he didn't know what to make of my Irish chat. It was a real eye opener. We had all types of weirdos trying to come into the bar begging for money, trying to use the toilet, trying to steal jackets. Tommy would roar and shout and chase them out. Sometimes, he’d throw handfuls of ice at them. Some bums would knock on the window and abuse him. I used to have to hold myself back from bursting out laughing, as I don't think he would have appreciated it. He was well used to taking crap from bums. I was only there for a few weeks but I could now see why Tommy looked like he did. It was crazy. Entertaining for a few weeks but stressful if it was your full time job. 

I wasn't much of a painter. My cousin would regularly lose the plot with me as he was quite the perfectionist when it came to painting. We’d argue like crazy during work and once work was over, all would be good. I gotta admit. I was in quite a hole and he helped me out, that’s for sure. Some days/weeks, he’d be waiting on another job to start and instead of saying “there’s no work today,” he’d pick me up and we’d drive around the whole day chatting. He’d show me different jobs he did or some fun places to go. And he’d still pay me. For that, I will always be grateful to Padraic.

Because he and I both knew painting wasn't my forte, I went on a mission to find a job in an Irish Bar. The word on the Street was you could make good tips if you were personable. That was something more up my alley. In my first few months in San Francisco, I experienced gratitude. Thankfulness that the Tenderloin “lifestyle” was a temporary one and gratefulness that I had many choices before me. I saw San Francisco as a motley crew of characters and I liked being part of it so far.


Till next time :)

P.S. Please feel free to share with any of your nice friends that you think would enjoy it :)

Cheers 

Gerry :)


Sonas Denim
www.sonasdenim.com



"As long as I'm breathing, I'll never quit" Gerry Kelly 2011

Chapter 11 - USA, Here We Come!

After an amazing year in Australia, it was time to move on. Four of us flew out of Melbourne on the same flight heading to New Zealand. By now,all our good friends were back in Ireland, bored and pissed off with only memories of their trip. It was a bit depressing leaving Australia knowing that we were now on the last leg of our round the world trip and I still had no idea of what I wanted to do with my life.

I had already spent eight weeks traveling around New Zealand, so I decided to continue on to Figi for a few weeks. The four of us ended up on a little Island called Mana. It was paradise: warm turquoise water, palm
trees, golden sand and chilled out big Fijian people.

While sitting on the beach one morning, I saw an extremely pale looking girl walking towards us. I had a sneaky suspicion she was Irish. She was milk bottle white with rosy red hair. Your stereotypical Irish girl.
Turned out she was from Dublin and was on route to Australia and had just come from San Francisco. We got chatting and she said to me, “You gotta check out San Francisco! There’s something about it. It just draws you in."


"Wow," I thought. That was the second person who told me about San Francisco in the last few months. There must be something to this San Francisco place.

After a few weeks in Figi, we got a flight to Hawaii. We flew into Oahu. Again, we didn't have a clue where we were going, so we did the usual. We went to the bookstore in the airport and read through the trusty Lonely Planet travel guide and took down some names and numbers of some local hotels and hostels.

We ended up staying in a dodgy hostel in Honolulu and sharing a room with some pretty straight backpackers from France. We were now in Hawaii and decided to head out on the town and celebrate “Irish style.” We hit up a load of cheesy tourist bars. We kind of knew it was probably our last big night out together for a while, so we made sure it was a good one. We stumbled back to the hostel like a pack of wild dogs, three sheets to the wind at about 4am. We were shouting and roaring, waking up everybody in
the hostel. We clambered back into our bunks. We were super noisy and obviously very annoying. There were eight to a room. My buddy Liam lit up a cigarette in his bed. That was the final straw. A pretty big French lad jumped out of his bed in a pair of “Y Fronts” shouting and screaming at us to shut the F&*q up and telling Liam to put the cigarette out. “Chill out Pierre, or I’ll put you out,” Liam said in a calm passive/aggressive tone. I guess he wasn't used to being told off, especially by some pretty tough drunk Irish guy who was sharing a room with him. He didn’t say another word. He gave Liam a look and got back
into bed and went to sleep. He was gone before we got up, thank God.

We left the hostel the next afternoon and made our way to Waimea Bay on the North Shore of Oahu. We rented out a caravan in a pretty cool campground that was full of surfers and backpackers. We had barbecues there nearly every night for a week and got to meet some fun local surfers and more backpackers.

Our next stop was Los Angeles. Four of us arrived in LAX and got a shuttle to Venice Beach. We booked into a budget hotel called the “Jolly Roger” about half a mile from Venice boardwalk. If I didn't know what I
was doing before, now, I was really lost. I didn't know a sinner in LA and our hotel was very impersonal. After getting used to staying in hostels and meeting other travelers, I felt a bit out of place in our boring hotel room in LA.

We only stayed two nights in LA. It’s definitely a bit of a daunting city if you don’t know anyone.

Liam and our other buddy Ciaran decided to get a train to Chicago. Liam’s brother was there for the summer playing Gaelic football and had room in his house for them. It was pretty sad to leave the lads especially after traveling for approx two years with Liam and living in London together. We had no idea when we’d see everyone again.

My buddy Des (also known as Dingo Des) and I decided to get a bus to San Francisco and see what all the fuss was about.

Next stop San Francisco.

One important thing I learned from my final leg of my journey is: It’s not where you are that matters, it’s who you’re with. Whoever is beside you and around you makes all the difference in the world.

Chapter 10 - Australia Pre-Olympics 1999/2000 “G’day G’day Mate!”

After an eye opening few months in South East Asia, my buddy Liam and I decided to take a flight to Australia with one last stop before we had to start working again. This time it was Indonesia, we spent two weeks taking it easy on Kuta Beach in Bali with some other backpackers on route to Australia. 

Our English friends Tim & Doug decided to go back to Thailand and meet back up with the girls they had left behind. When we arrived in Sydney, we had planned on meeting up with some of our good friends from back home: eleven single lads from Dublin who went to Australia on a one year working Visa about 8 months before we arrived.

When we actually got to Sydney, they were all still traveling up the Australian East Coast. My friend and I rented out a pretty cool furnished apartment in an area called Newtown (similar to Haight Ashbury in San Francisco or Camden Town in London). It had a pretty chilled out hippie vibe with amazing vintage stores, cool markets and some great bars and restaurants.

I ended up getting a job selling American Express insurance over the phone in a pretty big call center that was full of Irish and English backpackers. We each sat in cubicles like “Dilberts” and wore ear pieces on automatic dial to American Express customers. You had about 10 seconds between each call. The goal was to get as many existing card holders as you could to sign up for a free 30 day trial of American Express Insurance. After the 30 day trial ended they were charged approx $9 - $15 a month, depending on the coverage. It was a numbers game. I guess American Express was banking on most people forgetting to cancel it and make their money that way. I got to meet some really cool Irish and English guys and girls while working there.

Whenever I saw an Irish name come up on the screen, I would play the Irish card and tell them I’m an Irish backpacker and ask them if they would please do me a favor and sign up for a month and then cancel. Lots of people were up for it. All they had to say was “Yes” on a recorder. It didn't require filling out any forms, thank God.

Sometimes, when I got a real idiot on the phone getting abusive, telling me to never call again, instead of hitting the "Never Call Again" option I’d schedule a call for about 10 mins later. 10 mins later you’d hear someone in the call center saying "Oh My God! I just had some really pissed off customer on the phone. Someone called him just 10 minutes ago.” It was hilarious. Some days, I’d have pains in my stomach from laughing so much.

I also got another job bar-tending Friday and Saturday nights in a nightclub in Kings Cross. It worked out perfect. Not only was I saving money not going out to a bar, but I was also earning money working. I used to make the most awful tasting super strong cocktails. Some people loved them and tipped really well, and some would ask me to exchange for “something a bit more drinkable.” Then late one Saturday night, it got raided by the cops for serving after hours and they were closed down for a month and I never went back.

After a few months in Newtown, we decided to move over to Bondi Beach to another apartment right in the middle of all the action and next to the beach. 
The beaches and the water were unbelievable. Hard to believe that you were in a city. Bondi was full of young backpackers from Ireland, England and Scotland on their one year working Visa. 

I only worked for three months at the call center (that’s all our work Visa’s would allow on any one job) and now needed a new job. My buddies had all worked on the building sites and got me in contact with some labor hire agencies. I got a job as a laborer on a pretty big building site where they were building a hotel and luxury apartments. This was just before the Sydney Olympics 2000. The place was screaming out for construction workers. There was construction going on everywhere. Three or four different labor hire agencies used to call our apartment every day looking for more workers. After a few months of laboring, I bought $600 worth of tools off a Welsh guy who was leaving town and chanced my arm at being a carpenter on another building site. It was a good bit more money then laboring. I had met a guy while laboring who said I could work with him and he would basically carry me along. Of course I still worked, but he did all the technical work. I was basically laboring for him and getting carpenters wages from the agency. It worked out great for a few months and all we were doing was putting up sheet rock. Then, he got sick for a week and I was transferred to another site run by an English guy who figured me out after a few days when he asked me to hang a few doors and build a staircase (which I had never done before). Anyway, I got a great run out of it, learned a good bit and got paid more than laboring, so I couldn't complain. I ended up selling the tools for what I had paid for them to some legitimate carpenter from Ireland.

My next job was working on the building of a Buddhist Temple just outside of Sydney. It was a bit of a trek but easy work. I met a really cool guy there from the North of Ireland, Dermy Finn. Dermy was a hardy tough Irish lad that was a hard worker and well up for a laugh. The foreman on our job liked us and we got to work together all the time. We had great chats about growing up and the crazy carry on we both got up to and travelling stories, which were very similar. We became pretty good friends while working together. The Aussie foreman from our job, Pete, was going through a divorce at the time and was always looking for some wing men to go out on the town with him, so of course we obliged. He was a good bit older than us but loved hanging out and hearing our travel stories.

Dermy would always be talking about his friends who were living in San Francisco and a cool festival they would go to every year called the “Burning Man”. 
I had never heard of it. He also mentioned that if I ever went to San Francisco that I should look up his friends. To be honest, I had never ever thought about going to San Francisco. The only thing I knew about San Francisco was from the TV show “The Streets of San Francisco,” which we watched sometimes when I was a kid.

After I had saved up some decent money, a few of us decided to go traveling up the east coast with a neighbor of ours from Dublin. He was a bit older than us, but well up for a laugh. He had an old Hiace van that could fit five lads and their bags comfortably. It was perfect.

We ripped up the East Coast like we were in the Cannonball Race. Some days we drove 1000 kilometers in one day and only saw about ten other cars on the road. It was desolate. We had a blast stopping off in some strange little towns along the way. We hit all the cool beach towns and drove inland to Mount Isa. Then we made our way to Ayers Rock, climbed the famous huge rock and hung around there for a few days.

At this stage, we were on the last leg of our round the world trip. We decided to make our way to Melbourne to fly out from there. Our next stop was New Zealand then Figi & Hawaii.

I learned a lot in Australia while I worked. Something that stuck with me most is: 1. Sales is a complete numbers game (the more calls you make
the more sales you get), and 2. There's no harm in trying (if a job isn't the right fit, you'll know)

Chapter 9 - Full Moon Parties Thailand 1999

After saying our goodbyes to our friends in London, five of us met just outside Heathrow Airport in the smoking area on a wet and damp March morning. We were each armed with an around-the-world ticket from Singapore Airlines. The word on the street was that Singapore Airlines was one of the best airlines in the world to travel with. 

It was our good friend Tim’s 30th birthday the day before we left, so we planned to celebrate his birthday and the first day of our around-the-world trip in style. 
We started off with a few drinks in the departure lounge, and then we were ushered onto a beautiful 747 by a group of dainty little Asian women from Singapore in really cool uniforms. Definitely a step up from the haggard Aer Lingus attendants shouting “chicken or fish” in your ear. 

This was pre 9/11, when you could literally drink as much as you wanted. We all got to sit next to each other. Before we had even taken off they were bringing us over beers and baby bottles of Irish whisky. Our first stop was Singapore which was 13 hours away, where we had to change planes for Thailand. I woke up on the runway in Singapore and looked around. No one else was on the plane except the super cool stewardesses. We were the last passengers left on the plane. All the lads were still asleep. It was like the aftermath of a wild house party. There were bodies sprawled out in their seats. It looked like someone's living room.

We had three hours to hang around Singapore airport. It was a pretty amazing airport for a lay over, free movie theaters, showers and some amazing restaurants and bars.

Then, we got another flight to Bangkok. We had no idea where we were going, but had heard from some other travelers that Ko San Road was the place to go to find out everything you needed to know.


Hungover and tired we walked out the front doors of Bangkok airport and the heat hit us with a bang, it was about 8am. Holy shit, it was hot and humid, and we were dehydrated and hungover. There was about 100 taxi drivers just outside the doors fighting for our business.
After some tough haggling by our good friend Doug, five hungover sweaty guys and all our baggage crammed into a dodgy old Nissan. It looked like something out of a comedy sketch. 

The driver drove us through Bangkok during rush hour traffic to a half decent hotel close to Ko San Road. After he dropped us off, he asked us if he could be our guide for the duration of our stay in Bangkok. “Sure,” we said.

It was about 9am local time and we were Fu@k*d. We needed some rest after our drinking binge on the plane. We told him to meet us back at the hotel at 3pm. Mind you we didn't actually wake up till 6pm. Low and behold he was sitting there waiting for us.
Refreshed and ready to hit the streets, we left the hotel in his old Nissan. He brought us to a pretty cool Thai restaurant where the staff proceeded to fill us up with Sang Thip, a mass produced hardcore Thai whisky that is rumored to to contain hallucinogenic chemicals. Just perfect for our first night in Thailand.

We drank it like it was going out of fashion. After about three large bottles between the five of us, we ended up in Patpong Road partying in some crazy club with a load of other twisted foreigners and locals of all different genders.

After a few days of partying in Bangkok, two of us decided to make our way to the Island of Ko Samui on route to Ko Phangan for it’s famous full moon parties. The others would follow us there. We made our way to Ko San Road which was full of young backpackers from all over the world. We bought a bus ticket to Ko Samui and now had about 7 hours to wait. Instead of doing the sightseeing thing, we went straight to an Irish bar in the middle of Ko San Road. 

After a few days in Ko Samui we decided to make our way to Ko Phangan. We wanted to get there a few days before the full moon party, to get properly situated.
We got a little cabin in a place at the end of Haad Rin Beach right next to where a lot of the parties were taking place. Instead of staying for two weeks, we ended up staying for three months. I fell in love with the place. I think we went to every party possible, full moon parties, half moon parties, black moon parties, jungle parties. We did it all. In the bungalow across from where we were staying, there was a guy from Malta who seemed to be supplying the whole island with acid. We nicknamed him the Maltese Falcon. All day everyday there were tourists wandering around our bungalow grounds looking a bit bewildered after visiting the Maltese Falcon. Also, there was a cafe on the side of the mountain at the other end of the beach that served magic mushroom milkshakes and omelettes, it was a crazy place back then.

Tim & Doug spent most of the time on Ko Samui drinking beers and playing connect four and janga with some of the local women. We took a few trips back and forth from Ko Phangan to Ko Samui every few weeks to party with the lads and they did the same with us. One night while out partying in Ko Samui in a place called the “Green Mango,” we ended up in a fight with a group of lady boys. My good buddy Liam decided to tell some drunk English guy that the girl he was with wasn't actually a girl. Which happened to a lot of young backpackers. Liam proved it to him by grabbing the lady boys nuts. Bad move. Suddenly lady boys came out of the woodwork and went straight for Liam. The two of us ended up getting a few slaps. Mind you, Liam got more than a few slaps. They cracked him over the head and back with a pool cue quite a few times. The next day I made a decision to apologize to the lady boy that Liam grabbed. That wasn't a fun encounter. We had to go to a lady boy bar called “Christies” that held a cabaret every night with about 12 lady boys. Find the lady boy and then apologize, it had to be done. I didn't want to walk around the Island paranoid about been attacked by a group of wild lady boys. He actually wanted to go back and fight with them and I talked him around that it wouldn't be a good idea. “We’re in Thailand Liam.” I said.

After approx three months in Thailand, we decided to move on to Vietnam. The Vietnamese embassy screwed up our visa’s and instead of having a month stay in Vietnam we ended up with only a week. This was 1999 and Vietnam hadn't seen many tourists. The place was crazy and the monsoon had started. We didn't see many other foreigners at all. We ended up spending the week in Saigon partying it up. We had the cyclo drivers/cyclists race each other with each of us in our own cyclo’s through the crowded streets when we were drunk. They didn't know what to make of us. They took us to some real seedy underground bars. Ho Chi Min (Saigon) in 1999 was a crazy place. 

At this stage our friend Dave left us after Thailand and went straight to Australia. Tim, Doug, Liam and I made our way back to Singapore, stayed there for a few days and then got a bus to Malaysia.

It was fun, but nothing like Thailand or Vietnam. 

Chapter 8 - Living In London 1997/98 And The Rave Scene

After a quick six week stint in Ireland, I decided to move to London. I moved into a three story Victorian house in Earls Court (Aussie & Kiwi Backpacker Central) that housed approx 24 Aussies & Kiwi’s. These guys were all on a two year working Visa and were out to save some money, have some fun and travel the world.

I had only ever been to London twice before this and that was when I was just passing through on route to Greece. Holy shit London was big and very impersonal, a crazy melting pot of people from all over the world. I was a bit intimidated to say the least. I ended up sharing a room with four other guys and girls from Australia. Rent worked out at 20 pound a week each. Mind you, the house only warranted 20 pound a week. There were holes in the stairs, walls and bathrooms, and the kitchen reminded me of something out of an old Stephen King movie. To top it all off, the house was overrun with bed bugs! We used to joke and say that "the rats wore overalls" in the house.

It was low overhead, and now I had a base, and address and could get a job. Also, I knew it was only temporary, “Thank God.”

I got some crappy office clerk job through a labor hire agency for a few days a week. I gotta admit it was a bit depressing at first. I only knew a few people in London, who were all doing their own thing. I didn't even want to contact anyone till I at least had some money in my pocket and felt comfortable having a night out.

After a few months of crappy work, I got another job with an Irish Woman selling computer training courses over the phone. I was now an "Account Manager." After about two weeks of training, I was a pro. I still didn't know crap all about computers, but I talked like I did. I loved it, most of the time I was speaking to HR girls who were booking training courses for their employees. They loved my accent and wanted to talk all day and our courses were actually pretty good (so I was told) so it was an easy sell. I was on salary plus commission, which was great. We always blew through our targets. I also got a job in a local bar in Hammersmith, bar backing and bar tending and did the same trick as I did in Greece. Instead of picking up all the empties, I’d pick up a few full beers as well and drink them in the bathroom at high speed. I'd even pick up some drinks and give them to the girls I worked with. They loved it, and thought I was crazy. The bar manager was a major Coke head from the Isle of White and was always up for a few beers and a laugh after work. He used to come out of the bathroom with bits of coke hanging out of his nose and talk some crap. He was always trying it on the girls we worked with. I used to get a good laugh listening to his nonsense while having a few beers at the end of the night.

Finally, I was making some decent money at my new job and felt good. I must admit, I had thought about leaving London quite a few times in the beginning, especially when I was broke and felt a bit out of place. 

I moved into a two bed semi luxury apartment in Hammersmith with Scott, a good friend of mine that I had met in Greece, and both of our girlfriends at the time. My buddy and I were partying quite a bit which didn't go down too well with our girlfriends. Also, my friend had been charged with allegedly transporting ecstasy pills from Holland to England and was looking at a years in prison if convicted. So to say the least, there was some tension around the apartment.

We both ended up splitting up with our girlfriends at the same time (which worked out perfect) and moved into a three bedroom house in east London. Within a week, I knew it was the best decision ever and I had a new family. My good friend Liam from Dublin (not “The Liamo” who had been to Greece with me in 1995, but a different Liam ) moved in also. Liam had moved to London not long after I got there and moved in with his brother in North London. He was looking for a house closer to the city, so the timing was perfect. Liam was up for anything, the crazier the better. Also, a New Zealand couple (friends of friends) moved in, Tony & Ben (Ben was short for Rebecca). They ended up hanging out with us all the time. They were an amazing fun couple. It was a real fun family, the five of us. 

The party was in full swing. I gave up my bar job and now my weekends were free. I lived for Fridays. Every Friday was dress down day in the office I worked in. So I would come to work in my jeans and trainers ready to party. I used to bring a small backpack with a change of clothes and a tooth brush. I'd usually meet Liam & Scott in the Punch & Judy Bar in Covent Garden and we'd start the session there with some other friends and then make our way to some club or party. Most weekends, I'd stay out all weekend at some club or party and/or friends' house. We used to hit up places like Bagleys in Kings Cross (see video - www.youtube.com/watch?v=VjZjbQEDsJ0 and The Cross, also the Aquarium on Old Street and sometimes Sunny Side Up and of course the Fridge in Brixton. I loved the music, but I was more into socializing. I used to spend half the night in the chill out rooms drinking beers, smoking and chatting with other ravers. We always ended our weekend drinking in Camden Town on Sunday afternoons with a good group of friends reminiscing over what happened on Friday & Saturday. Times were good. 

We never knew when and what exactly was going to happen to our good friend and roommate as his Court case was dragging on for so long (well over a year). So, we had a going away party nearly every weekend. His friends used to come up from Hampshire and our friends used to fly over from Dublin on Ryanair flights and join us for a party. 

And then the inevitable happened, he got convicted and sentenced to a few years in prison. Suddenly everything changed. It just wasn't the same without him. Tony & Ben moved out and Liam and I had decided to leave London and go travelling around the world. Tim from Stoke, Doug from Wolverhampton and Dave (a school friend of mine from Dublin) decided to join us on our trip. We decided to leave on March 3rd 1999 and make our way to Australia with a few stops on the way.