Star Tribune Story about L.A. Nik

(Story originally written and published by Tom Horgan for the Minneapolis Star Tribune. Read it on their website by clicking HERE.)

Nightlife: L.A. Nik at night

An L.A. transplant with a rocker attitude and a taste for black nail polish has become an unlikely champion of downtown’s bar scene.

Downtown Minneapolis after dark can sometimes seem like another world. Touring it with L.A. Nik is like encountering another universe.

I spent one night with this self-appointed ultimate scenester, an outing that included a shirtless woman running down 10th Street, a backroom drag battle and a kissing horse.

L.A. Nik just seems to attract the wild side of the nightlife scene. Nik (as I'll call him) might be the most famous bar-goer in downtown. Actually, he insists -- he is the most famous person in downtown. Mayor R.T. who?

Nik, 46, looks like he stepped out of a Mötley Crüe video, circa 1985. Morning, noon and night he's clad in all-black, right down to his fingernail polish. The silver skull necklaces draped around his neck complete his character. Think Keith Richards crossed with illusionist Criss Angel (he'll kill me for saying that -- the Criss Angel part, at least).

Nik landed in Minnesota two years ago like a marooned astronaut. He adapted to his new surroundings by turning downtown into his kingdom. For him, Minneapolis is free of Tinseltown's pretension yet filled with undiscovered gems. He loves downtown. For the most part, it loves him. Here, he acts like a goodwill ambassador, shaking hands and talking up the area's restaurants as if he's the Aging Rocker Delegate to the Downtown Council.

"I'm like a politician, man," he'll say.

Minnesotans sometimes treat Nik like a zoo animal, taking photos of him with their cellphones. So for the past two months, he's been promoting a photo contest on his website: "Take a Pic With L.A. Nik." Snap a shot with him, send it in and the best one will win $1,000 (deadline is Wednesday). The purpose, he says, is to get people to come downtown.

"I eat, play and stay in downtown," Nik said (he lives in Loring Park, but formerly lived for 13 months in the Hotel Minneapolis).

Nik is so sure of downtown's greatness, he told me he will act as a personal tour guide to anyone who asks.

So I asked him. And he showed me his downtown.

Drag queens and cops

It was a brisk Saturday night. We began at Zelo, the swank Italian restaurant favored by junior executives. Nik was the only person with a giant skull belt buckle. Drinks seem to find their way into his hands. "We like colorful people," a manager told me.

Next was Wondrous Azian Kitchen, where owner Thom Pham told me Nik is "the craziest person I've ever met" (this coming from Thom Pham). The two are reviving "The Gong Show" at Pham's bar every Sunday night. Later, we went to Seven and Lure, where Nik easily struck up conversations with strangers (mostly women). Missing by his side this night was his girlfriend Nancy Kuehn, a photographer for the Minneapolis/St. Paul Business Journal. He talks about her incessantly.

Back on the street, we ran into one of Nik's friends, who took us into the new Cowles Center. We were thrown into a rowdy, packed room where an all-black drag-queen contest was in full swing. It was like a scene out of the movie "Paris Is Burning." The crowd was electric with tall men in bright, skin-tight outfits. We slipped out after about 15 minutes.

"I'll try anything once!" Nik said.

'Charlie Sheen' problems

Despite his nickname, Nik grew up Nickolas Pilotta in Delaware.

"I've been called every name in the book, but I knew who I was going to be by the ninth grade," he said.

He moved to Los Angeles in the 1980s, where he drummed in bands but never found stardom. Still, he lived the life. He opened a club, hung out with famous comedians and befriended hair-metal gods. I asked him if he did a lot of coke.

"Absolutely," he said. "I was like Charlie Sheen. People were just throwing me 8-balls."

Fast-forward to 2009: Nik was clean of drugs and working several angles, one of which brought him to the Twin Cities. He designed a mall kiosk called "Go Hollywood Live," which allowed customers to record audition tapes for movies and TV shows. It lasted for eight months at the Mall of America. But he was here to stay.

Saving downtown from itself

During our late-night adventure, two police officers flagged down Nik on the street. Turns out: cops love him.

"Nik, how you doing!" one shouted.

Nik has a mischievous look to him, but he thinks of himself as a downtown steward, a Downtown Improvement District officer without the uniform. He's concerned about recent incidents of teenagers fighting on Nicollet Mall.

"That needs to be nipped in the bud real quick," he told the two cops. "That'll scare people from coming downtown."

Not everyone is charmed by Nik. Some people think he's full of B.S. (which is how one downtown player put it).

Nik says he's an entrepreneur. He's famous for his "Favorite People" parties at Hell's Kitchen. Right now, he's working on his own energy drink and opening a club in downtown. On his website, RockinThisTown.com, he calls himself a "professional entertainment personality."

In September, Nik co-hosted the red carpet at the Ivey Awards with Fox 9's Todd Walker, another man about town.

"I got the feeling he's created a character and now he's selling it to Minneapolis," Walker said. "But I'm not sure anyone is buying it."

Well past midnight, an intoxicated woman came streaking toward us as we walked down 10th Street. Nik, concerned for her dignity, pleaded with the woman to put her shirt back on. We escaped the bizarre episode once the woman's boyfriend arrived.

The last stop of the night was the W Hotel. Its 27th-floor bar, Prohibition, is home to Nik's favorite bartender.

Outside, I learn he has a favorite horse, too. As we crossed the street in front of the Foshay Tower, a carriage approached.

"Oh, this is my guy," Nik said. It was unclear if he was referring to the driver or the half-ton steed. Nik went straight to the horse, stroking its belly and resting his cheek against the steed's furry hide.

"What's up, buddy," he said, massaging the horse. "I got your spot -- right there."

The beast swung its giant head around to greet Nik in the face. "I got your spot," Nik repeated as he looked into the creature's dark eyes.

Yes, even animals love L.A. Nik.

(Story by Tom Horgan, Reporter for the Minneapolis Star Tribune)

(Listen to L.A. Nik’s podcast Minneapolis 911 on the Tom Barnard Network by clicking HERE.) 

Episode five of Minneapolis 911 with L.A. Nik & Hessley Rey: ShotSpotter

Click HERE to listen to this week's podcast.

This week on the podcast we talk about a system used nationwide, including right here in Minneapolis, for locating gunfire. The system in Minneapolis is called ShotSpotter and the purpose of it is to detect the location of gun fire so that dispatchers can send out first responders to quickly deal with gun shot victims, secure witnesses and generally deter gun violence.

Here is a Minneapolis ShotSpotter map from May 3rd to May 9th, 2016.


As you can see, blue stars represent confirmed shootings of which their were twelve during this seven day time frame. If you listen to the news, it should come as no surprise that most shootings occur in North Minneapolis followed by downtown Minneapolis.

Minneapolis' ShotSpotter system was featured on AOL News. Check out THIS VIDEO to see how the system works in our community.

Fifteen to twenty sensors are placed within a square mile in hidden locations. Shockwaves caused by gun fire activate the sensors and then triangulation between the sensors is used to determine the location of the gun fire and alert the police. Check out the science of it in THIS National Geographic video.

Here's what gets me. Nearly every time I have brought up ShotSpotter in conversation in Minneapolis, the person listening looks at me with a complete look of disbelief as though I am lying about its existence. That look is almost always followed up with something like, "Well, it could just be car backfire or firecrackers that the system is picking up." It's a valid point. And despite the fact that the systems are programmed to know the difference between a firecracker and a gun shot, people not wanting to believe that we have gun fire right here in Minneapolis is a more important point to me.

This week we had 45 bullet casings found at Penn Avenue north and Olson Memorial Highway after a man was shot and killed at 3:30pm in the afternoon. According to a Star Tribune STORY detectives are looking into the possibility that the shooting was a retaliation to last week's shooting at Newton and Sixteenth Avenue north that killed one and injured seven; An alleged gang-related shooting.

I record my podcast every week in an attempt to make people aware that we have problems here in Minneapolis. My goal is to start a conversation so that we can find solutions.  Denial solves nothing. Driving off to south Minneapolis and the western suburbs after a day of work downtown doesn't mean you will remain untouched by the violence. 

Downtown is the heartbeat of the Minneapolis metro. That shooting on Penn Avenue happened at 3:30pm in the afternoon. If this city gets any worse, companies will pull out of downtown. If Minneapolis fails, Wayzata fails and so on.  It's called the Broken Window Effect. 


*Minneapolis 911 is a weekly podcast on the Tom Barnard Network. It can also be found at www.MayorOfMinneapolis.com

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How to be Happier in Life by L.A. Nik

How to be happier in life.

"Too many people wake up years later and wonder what the fuck happened." - by L.A. Nik

I had been getting disability from Los Angeles for a thousand dollars a month and I knew I'd be getting it for the next year.  So I thought, instead of renting a place for five hundred bucks a month, start real high.  That way you’re forced to bust your ass to keep it.  Plus you can always move down if it gets to be too much.  If you start at the bottom, you can’t go down and going up from the bottom is extremely difficult.

So I found a really nice duplex in Boca Raton, Florida to rent for a thousand dollars a month.  It was a really nice place.  Then I started looking for a place to do cars  and I found a place on Del Ray beach for $1500 a month.  So now I’m paying $2500 a month and I had no job.  

I was dating this girl that I met in L.A., Susan, and I said, “Hey, go out and get some commercial accounts.”  So she comes back the very first day and she gets an account for ambulances.  They had 15 vans.  The next thing I know, I’m working on all these vans and within the first week, I had five accounts.  I still looked like a rocker out of L.A. but now I'm in Florida, working on cars.  And we made money – a lot of money.

  

This is what started the darkest period of my life.  When I was doing all this I lost who I was.  I stopped being me.  I started playing the part.  I put my hair up in a baseball cap, married my girlfriend, bought a new house, bought furniture, and had a daily routine.  I did this for seven years;  Seven years of marriage, job, house, routine.  In reality, it felt more like just one year – cause I didn’t progress at all in any way.  I progressed financially, but I had slipped into the trap; The comfortable state of hatred.  

Let's get one thing straight.  Money is great when it's meant to increase your freedom to do stuff and be your own boss.  But when money is only used to buy stuff, to maintain some lifestyle, or to show off your status, then money will not work for you.  If that's the case, money has a hold on you.  You're a slave to the money and to the stuff you buy.  You lose your freedom and you'll lose yourself.  Stuff only wears you down.  Stuff will only keep you stagnant.

I got to a point where every day was mundane.  Everything was the same.  I started to hate my job. I hated my life. I hated my wife.  It all became about responsibility and obligation.  I had clients that depended on me and I had deadlines.  When I worked in the shop in L.A., I had a lot more freedom.  I remained true to myself and I worked when I wanted to.  I knew I was good and I got the work done.  

You'd think being my own boss and owning my own shop and making my own hours would work for me.  It should have, but instead of remaining the person I was, I allowed myself to change; To play the part in the theatre of life.  I thought it was time for me to grow up and be a responsible adult.  What I didn't realize was, I already was a responsible adult.  But somehow I convinced myself I still needed to "look" like one.

I bought so much stuff.  We were making a lot of money at this time.  I started buying all kinds of antiques and cars - whatever I wanted.  I'd always loved antique mechanical stuff and so I was buying everything old and mechanical that I could afford.  At first, it was a small collection.  Then it turned into a "I gotta have it!" kind of addiction.  The stuff had a hold on me.  And I didn't have a hold of myself anymore.

If you have nothing tying you down, you're free to do whatever you want.  Stuff ties you down.  If you want to collect something, collect cash.

  

Everything started in this house.  It was the first time I ever smoked coke.  I didn’t notice at first, but after the first time I smoked it, I would dream about it.  It’s that powerful.  Like you do it once, you start dreamin’ about it and it makes you want to do it again.  

Smokin' coke replaced buying all the stuff.  I was still working, still being responsible but I hadn't noticed just how miserable and unhappy I had become.  It got to a point where I was just on auto-pilot, just getting through the day.  Then I could go home and smoke coke.  Doing drugs was a means of coping.  It became what I looked forward to every day.

Pretty soon I was buying it all the time and learning how to cook it myself, but only on the weekends.  Then I started smoking it during the week.  Then it got to the point where I was doing it seven days a week.  Every day – I would get home from work and the first thing I did was cook up some coke.  

Then it got to the point where I was smoking it during the day.  I was smoking before I went to work.  Then I was coming home every 20 minutes to do it.  The shop was only a mile from my house.  So I was driving home every 20 minutes to do some coke.  It got really, really, really bad.  It didn't take long before it got to the point where I hardly even worked anymore. 

Everything fell apart of course.  Everything financially fell apart. The business fell apart. My marriage fell apart. Everything.  I did manage to get it under control for a little while.  Then my wife and I started going in opposite directions.  That forced me to go even deeper.  I'm alone now.  I drove away all of my friends and replaced them with drugs.  

One day, I found a note written on a McDonald’s bag from my wife that read, "I'm leaving you.  Bye."  And she was gone. Just gone.  Left it on the table for me.  I didn’t see her for months.  She just took off with some dude for Costa Rica.  

She never tried to stop me from doing coke.  I think she just let me do all that so she had a legitimate reason to leave me.  I didn’t respect that at all but in the long run it didn't matter.

At this point in my life, I’m in the house by myself and seriously indulging every day.  I’m buying just bags of dope.  I was smoking all day and night just trying to numb myself.  It was a bad time in my life.  When she left, I went chronic.

Drugs used to be a recreational thing for me.  Like I said, I was a weekend warrior.  Drugs weren't a part of my lifestyle, they were something to do on occasion with friends when you're partying.  Now, they became my means of coping.  Once I started hating my life and who I had become I went to the one thing I knew would make me feel better.  This would make me hate my life even more and guess where that sent me?

Working on cars didn't excite me anymore.  It used to.  I loved my job in L.A.  I've loved working on cars my whole life.  Still do.  But now with my own shop, my own accounts, a mortgage, a wife, taxes, responsibility, obligation, paperwork!!  The love of working on the cars faded.  I found no joy in it anymore.  I had deadlines.  I had inventory.  The mundane tasks took over.

You have to be careful with too much routine.  Routine and the mundane kills your spirit.  It takes away your dream.  It makes you forget who you are.  It takes away the joy you used to have in what you did.  If you spend every day just punching the clock, running errands, filing, checking off a list, making appointments, doing the dishes, you've sunk into a comfortable state of hatred.  

If you wake up at the same time every day, get out of bed the same way, go through your morning routine and leave the house the same time every day, you've sunk into a comfortable state of hatred.  If you go through your workday talking to the same people, having the same meetings, checking off the same list, eating the same lunch, leaving the same time just to come home and lay down on the couch and watch TV every night, you've sunk into a comfortable state of hatred.

If you find yourself finding different ways of coping such as drinking too much, doing drugs, gambling, shopping, cheating on your spouse, neglecting your kids, you have sunk into a comfortable state of hatred.

I was talking to these two investment bankers at the bar one night.  They were co-workers at the same firm, did the same job, were the same age and had been doing the job the same amount of time.  Instantly, I knew one hated life and one didn't so I wanted to see what the difference was.  The one guy, we'll call him John, talked about how he loved his job.  He loved researching, he loved trading and he loved making people money.  The other guy, we'll call him Joe, only said, "I've been doing this my whole life.  It's too late to start over now."

Which investment banker would you rather work with?  

Let's get one thing clear.  It's never too late to start over.  My grandmother went to Disneyworld for the first time in her life when she was 90.  Never, ever say it's too late to do anything.

Interestingly, neither guy was married and neither had kids.  John said he loved being single and loved living by himself.  He frequented many different bars and had a variety of interests and friends.  Joe talked about how he had invested in real estate.  When I asked him what his passion was, he couldn't answer.  John was quick to say he loved numbers and math.  When I asked John why he wasn't married, he said he knew years ago that marriage wasn't for him.  He'd had girlfriends and he's still friends with many of them.  Joe, on the other hand, wanted to be married to a supermodel, which was never going to happen.

Finally, I asked them what was they're biggest contribution was to life.  John said he's helped lots of people make more money and be more financially secure and also enjoyed helping take care of some of his friend's kids financially.  Joe said, "The afterlife will be better."

Really???  This guy was living his life only in the hopes that his next life will be better?  I was shocked and saddened.  What a waste.  I made a note never to invest with this guy.  He obviously doesn't care.

It all comes down to this:  You gotta find out who you are and be confident in yourself.  Then you follow your dreams and don't stay stuck in the past.  You have to keep changing things up.  This is how you will avoid the comfortable state of hatred.  If you allow yourself to stay stuck, become something you're not, lose your passion and give up on your dreams, you will sink into the comfortable state of hatred.  I guarantee it.

I believe 90% of Americans right now are in a comfortable state of hatred.  I've met so many people in my life from all walks of life - Different backgrounds, ages and financial statuses.  Most of them are in a comfortable state of hatred.  It's rare that I meet someone who truly was living his or her life freely and full of passion and choosing to love life every day.

  

There's a difference between giving up and giving in.  When you give in, you just allow yourself to be swallowed up by your life around you.  You're punching the clock – with your job, with your relationships.  You're a walking shell.  And you keep telling yourself, "I'm doing what I'm supposed to do.  This makes me a responsible adult.  This makes me a good person.  I've joined the PTA.  I have a nice lawn.  I recycle."  You've given in and you've lost control.  Give it a little more time and you'll find some other way to cope.  Go on anti-depressants.  Take up drinking.  Cheat on your spouse.  Start hoarding.  Play video games.

I married my wife out of convenience.  I bought a house, had a business, had a routine and it  seemed like the thing to do.  No pressure, just convenience.  Seemed like the thing to do next.  Most people think that way.  They do all this for the convenience.  You get yourself into a predictable daily routine that's stable and you can count on it, you don't have to try so hard and think so much.  But then what?  Just watch TV every night?  You have a life of convenience so you can spend all your free time getting to know the NBC lineup?

Get married when you are truly in love with someone and they are truly in love with you back.  Most importantly, they've seen the real you.  People can put on an act for a good year.  In fact, guys can put on the act for at least two years.  Guys know what I'm talking about.  They put on the best behavior act for at least two years.  And then, it will turn to shit.  I hear it everywhere – Men and women always say, "Oh they changed after a couple years."  No they didn't.  They weren't being totally themselves for two years!  They didn't change, they just stopped the act.

If you're going to be a dick, be a dick from day one.  If you're a pig then burp and fart from day one.  You're going to be you eventually so you might as well just be yourself from the get go.  Cause you're going to want to be with someone who loves you for you so you should show your real self from the beginning.  Trust me, the person you are meant to be with will love you as you are.  But if you put on an act, then the person who may be the love of your life won't notice you or fall for the act.  

This is why most marriages have a 4 to 5 year shelf life.  Because they weren't being honest with who they really are from the beginning.  Maybe they were trying to be something they wished they were or trying to live a life they thought they wanted.  But instead of trying this shit out on your own before hand, you put the burden on the other person and when the act is over, you're left with yourself and the other person didn't turn out the way you thought either.  And you hate each other and wonder why they changed.

This is not about getting older.  A younger person with a lot of experiences will learn from their mistakes.  Someone who doesn't do anything and doesn't build on any experiences won't mature.     

The comfortable state of hatred starts with complacency.  You get up, you go to work, you come home, cook dinner and watch TV.  Day in and day out.  Every day the same thing.  People are afraid of change.  They think to themselves, "I have this, I worked for this, I paid for that.  I have a place to sleep.  I have someone to sleep with.  I have responsibilities and people depending on me."  They don't want to change this because they think they've earned this.  But have you earned?  This is not living.  This is simply existing.

Change is good.  You're better off walking away from everything in your life and suffering hard core for a year than you are putting up with this anymore.  To get your life back for the next 30 years, give a year.  One year of suffering to get yourself back on track is worth what you'll have the next 30 years.

If you stay where you're at, you'll never truly live.  You'll just continue to exist. You might as well be a bird in a birdcage.  Because that's what this life is.  And you put yourself there.  People cage themselves.

Change is great.  But you have to be able to accept the consequences of that change too.  You have to learn not to burn bridges.  You don't have to hurt people in this process.  You don't have to turn away from the people in your life – that's not what I'm saying.  I'm not saying quit your job, leave your wife, abandon your kids.  No.  If you're married and you still want to be married to this person, you owe it to them to say, "Look, I'm not happy.  I need to make a change and I want you to do this with me."  

If there is a "we" in your life, then you have to get them on board.  It's not just about you.  You have to put it in context of we.  WE need to make a change.  WE need to start living.  WE need to do something different.  Even if you're in your 40's or 50's  - you still have 30-40 years left.  That's a lot of years and they shouldn't be spent just existing in the day to day.

You can't wait either.  You have to do this shit now.  I mean, what do you gotta do, buy more shit?  You want to wait until you buy the living room furniture?  Buy a new car?  Remodel the house?  Forget it!  Those things are anchors!  Buying stuff just keeps you in the comfortable state of hatred.  It keeps you locked down cause you have to keep paying for it and taking care of it.

Merchandise just traps you more and more and more.  The less you own, the better off you'll be.  The less you have to take care of, the less space you have to clean.  The less you have to maintain, the better.  Face it, life was not meant to just be maintained – it was meant to be LIVED!  How many books do you need to buy about painting walls?  How many knick knacks do you need to dust off?  How much more crap do you need to buy to show off to your friends?  How much stuff will it take to make you happy?  The answer is infinite.  It will take an infinite amount of stuff to make you happy – and that will never, ever happen.

You have to stir shit up.  You have to recognize when you've reached the point of a comfortable state of hatred.  If you're in a comfortable state of happiness, you can stop reading this book right now.  But most Americans are in a comfortable state of hatred and you have to be honest with yourself and take an honest look at your life.  Take a real, hard, open and honest look at your life and ask yourself if this is the life you dreamed of when you were a kid.

If it isn't, you need to change it.  You need to stir shit up and do something different.  Maybe you don't have to do an entire overhaul.  Start small.  Just change your daily routine.  Drive a different route to work.  Do your hair different.  Get some tea instead of a latte.  Try a shot of bourbon instead a beer.  See how these small changes feel and then start making bigger changes.  

When I first started smoking coke, it was an unbelievable feeling.  And it should be because it releases every endorphin and all your pleasure sensors at once.  In any other pleasure situation, endorphins are released then receptors recycle the endorphins back into your brain.  But when you do coke or crystal meth, it dumps them all at once and your receptors close up so the endorphins all go into your blood stream.  So it’s pretty much an instant hit to the groin, pleasure wise.   And you’re like, HOLY SHIT!  Then you can’t stop thinking about doing it again.  And it only lasts for like 20-30 seconds.  It’s exactly like having an orgasm length wise.  And so you just want to do it again.  And every time you do it, it gets less and less intense.  You never get the same feeling you did the first time.  But you keep trying.  Cause you want that same feeling again so badly.  So you do more and you do it more often – to get that high again and have that feeling again.

But then, paranoia takes over.  Severe paranoia.  Like where you swear to God that there’s someone at your window.  At every window.  There’s someone looking through every window and someone is going to kick your door down any second.  You’re going to go to jail.  You’re going to get murdered.  You’re going to go to prison and going to get gang raped.  You can never stop thinking about all this.  You’re constantly freaking out.  “What’s that noise?’  “Did you hear that?”  You’ll even turn your hot water heater off because you don’t want to hear that “ssshhhhh” noise anymore.  You’ll unplug your refrigerator because you can’t stand the humming noise.  Everything starts making noise.  And everything starts driving you mad.    

Before you know it, your house is destroyed.  All your shit is unplugged.  All the food goes bad and you don’t throw it out cause you’re paranoid that someone is going to go through your garbage so you live in filth and as long as you’re high, you don’t care and you never leave your room.  You won’t take a shower and you won’t go in the bathroom at all.  I knew people that would smoke coke and just pee in bottles.  Cause you’re too paranoid that there might be someone behind that shower curtain.  

I was in a bad place. I've been there and I needed help.

It's a dangerous slope to ask people for help.  You have to watch who you ask.  You're better off asking someone who has been down that road and someone you don't know that well than you are asking your close friends and family members.  Once your parents know you have a drug problem, you lose your pride and they will never look at you the same again.  

Even with money problems.  The haves always run away from the have nots.  As soon as anybody knows you need help and they have more than you, they run.  It's just the way people are.  I know people always say things like, "Oh you know who your friends are when you need help."  All that is crap.  Trust me.  Your true friends are not going to know what to do and will run away – not because they don't care, but because they don't know how to help.

If you have an addiction, talk to someone who had an addiction themselves and got clean.  Let them help you.  If you're not ready for that and you are still deep in addiction, listen to me right now!  You know you're a drug addict.  I did.  I didn't need my friends and family lecturing me about shit I already knew.  Nothing they could say would change anything.  You gotta get help on your own and you gotta seek out those who can truly help you. Completely trust me on this. I did it.  

-by L.A. Nik

I enjoy working on things again in my small, home shop.

How to Be More Responsible by L.A. Nik

How to be more responsible 

Life is short. Why make it shorter? by L.A. Nik

None of us are worth anything without others. We have to respect and care for others in order to fulfill our lives. Everything we do has a consequence that can affect others either in a positive or negative way.

This was a hard lesson for me to learn, but I did – it just took a while.

You may not know me, but others can attest to the fact that when I’ve only had $10 in my pocket, I’ve given $5 of it to someone else who needed it more.

It’s the Power of Responsibility.

We are all responsible for our own lives. If on your death bed, you have nothing but regrets, then the only person you have to blame is yourself.

Did you work at the same job for twenty years only to have your salary increase by $3 an hour?

Change it up!

It’s your responsibility to change your job or career. It’s not your boss’ fault. It’s not your mate’s fault.

It’s yours.

Your actions and inactions have consequences. It’s up to you to be responsible to understand and deal with them as they happen

-

One of my first lessons about responsibility and consequences happened in 1987. was touring the Bahamas with my girlfriend at the time. When I stepped off the plane onto a dirt field, there was a huge crowd of people cheering, “MTV! MTV!”

That’s what they called me there.

We drove to this restaurant and inside the place was the same crowd of people that saw us get off the plane. As soon as we walked in, one guy walked up to me and said, “Wanna do some cocaine?”

I didn’t see the harm, so I went in and did a few lines. All of a sudden the door was kicked in and there are people yelling, shoving others around, and zip-tying all the people together. They were daisy-chained together like a Christmas decoration. No one was going anywhere.

I saw the owner of the club and said to him, “Hey, my girl and I were just using the bathroom. We just got here.” They must have believed me so they let us go. The owner whispered, “Just go. Go far away.”

My girlfriend chimed in and said, “Hey the keys to the motorcycle are in the helmet. It’s on a table in the club!” The owner wanted us out. “Look, come back later. Just get out of here now,” He said.

So we left and came back four hours later. The next thing I know, I’m being zip tied with my hands behind my back, walked out to a van, and driven to jail. In order to process me, they asked for my driver’s license. Mine was from Delaware and they had no idea what or where Delaware was. It took another half-hour for me to explain that it was in the United States and not too far from New York.

“New York!” they yelled to one another. The must have figured that they had some rich American in their midst.

They didn’t.

Once processed, they took me down to the jail cell. It wasn’t an American jail like you see on television.

Fuck no.

This was a Bahamian jail.

It was during this period of L.A. Nik's life that he took a break
from his band to visit the Bahamas. 

The path to my (L.A. Nik's) cell was a dark, damp, dank hallway underneath the building with dirt floors. Wordlessly, they pushed me in my cell. It didn’t have bars, instead it had flat slats of steel that looked like a bunch of butter knives lined up next to each other.

I couldn’t see a thing.

There was no sunlight, no plumbing, and definitely no bed. Just these metal slats and a dirt floor and the voices from the cells saying, “Hey! Put him in here!”

I didn’t want any part of that.

I had no concept of time in my 4’ x 4’ pitch black home. Twice a day they give me a cup of water and a rock-hard roll. A man with an English accent in the cell next to me said, “Take a sip of water and put the roll in the cup of remaining water to soften it up enough to eat.”

He was right.

It was disgusting. The water was as clear as weak coffee. I figured I had to eat something. Once I lit a match and saw thousands of cockroaches scurrying around me. After that, I didn’t move and never lit a match again.

The corner of the cell became my toilet. I spent hours sitting in the middle of the floor with nothing on my mind except the worry of what happened to my girlfriend. I had all the money and our ID’s – which were now in the hands of the police.

She had nothing.

She was alone.

It was my fault.

After four days, I was escorted out of the dirt floor cell to a small car. I had no idea what was coming next. My imagination was running wild as I’d seen way too much television to think this was going to have a happy ending. In a few minutes, I noticed a small seaplane floating on the water. Waiting there next to the plane was my girlfriend.

Nothing looked so good in my entire life than what was before me at that very moment.

She told me she went to the US Embassy and asked for help. I have no idea how she did it or what she did – all I know is that we were heading home. A few hours later, we landed in Biscayne Bay.

We were home.

Living life like a rock star has its consequences. I accepted that. Though the experience scared the shit out of me, I’ve been back to the Bahamas many times since. I often wonder if my cell is occupied by some other guy like me who was not thinking about the consequences of his actions and how they affect those you love.

Life is about consequences.

However, it’s pretty simple. If you don’t want to have to deal with consequences, then don’t do anything. Just sit on your couch and stare at the wall and wait to die.

But if you really think about it, there are consequences for inaction too.

You can’t go through life, meet people, and follow your dreams without making mistakes and fucking up. You will make mistakes! The point is learning from those mistakes and being able to move past them.

I went back to the Bahamas, but I never went to jail again. I only had to experience that once to know I was never going to get myself in that situation again!

It didn’t stop me from doing drugs though.

That’s a lesson and consequence I didn’t learn until several years later.

-

Even though my time in the Bahamian jail was horrific, I learned my lesson. I never again spent another second in any jail cell.

You have to learn from the times when you’ve been given a second chance. If you do something stupid and dangerous and you look back and think, “I was lucky. I should have died.” That’s a lesson.

You don’t get a second chance like that again. Some people think they’re invincible and will push the envelope. Some people do get away with it over and over again. But I guarantee it, eventually the second, third, or fourth chances come to an end and the piper has to be paid.

You will get caught.

You’ll get caught by the cops and end up in jail. Or your marriage will end or you’ll lose your job. Or worse yet, you’ll lose yourself. And your world, as you know it, will fall apart.

It’s a fact.

The longer you get away with something and the longer you believe you won’t get caught, the harder you’ll fall. The worse the consequences will be. Just when you get used to your bad behavior – driving drunk, cheating on your mate, stealing from your company, whatever it is. When you get yourself to a point where the bad behavior becomes a daily habit and it becomes your way of life, the harder the harder and longer your fall will be. Eventually you will lose everything. 

If you don’t do right by yourself and those around you, your life will crash and burn. And the longer you get away with it, the more you’ll have to lose overnight. It’s happened to me and I’ve seen it happen to so many others.

You can never be on top forever. And if you reached the top by stepping on everyone else to get there, you will fall that much farther. When you do fall, there won’t be anyone there to catch you.

I’ve been given a second chance and it changed me forever.

-

Now that I’m older, I understand that I have to answer for everything I do. If someone tells you that you will die tomorrow, what will you think about?

More than likely you will think of all of the bad things that have happened in your life.

“Why didn’t I do this?”

“Why didn’t I do that?”

“Why did I treat my wife so poorly?”

Instead of living your life with regret, live your life responsibly. I am certain that we all are held responsible for our actions – even to ourselves.

Think before you act.

Think about the consequences of everything you do and say.

Prevent the regrets from even starting in the first place.

Then, when someone tells you that you are going to die tomorrow, instead of thinking about the bad, you can think about the good.

“I’m so glad I did that.”

“I’m so glad I met her.”

“I’ve lead a good life.”

The good thing is that everything can be fixed – if you address it head-on. If you try to avoid your mistakes (and not take responsibility for them) the mistakes grow. They become worse. They affect more people.

Do not run.

Do not hide.

Don’t do what I did.

-

I knew that taking the coke in the Bahamas was a stupid thing to do. I put my girlfriend’s well-being at risk. I put my own life at risk too. But I didn’t’ learn my lesson for quite some time.

Most people do not come back from where I was. Most end up in the morgue as a result of a massive over-dose. I dipped my foot in the lava and luckily I had enough sense to pull it back out. I realized I had to become responsible and accept the consequences for what I had become.

I was living in Los Angeles at the time. Most of my friends snorted their coke. Not me. I smoked it. I was on a quest for the constant orgasm. A quest that was as fruitless as looking for the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow – it doesn’t exist.

But I was determined to keep looking.

I knew that I had hit rock bottom though when I found myself alone in my house. That in itself wasn’t odd – lots of people can be alone in their homes at one time or another. What was odd was the condition of my home. And me.

I was close to death, I’m sure of it.

In a few days I would have been on a stainless steel table in the LA County morgue and some nameless person would have written my obituary.

But I was given a second chance. I was in a comfortable state of hatred and finally realized that I had to change. I had to crawl out of that hole or die.

Every appliance, anything that made the smallest hum, the slightest noise, was unplugged.

All of my windows were closed and covered with every blanket or towel I owned. I couldn’t stand the light and any breeze that came through them made too much noise. I couldn’t look at the trees outside because I was certain they were really people trying to spy on me.

The day I hit rock bottom, I was sitting on my living room floor in my underwear.

Sweating.

Trembling.

It was the middle of the California summer so the house was at least ninety degrees – the air conditioner made too much noise so I had turned that off weeks before.

I had my pipe in my left hand.

I had a gun in my right.

I was shaking so badly, I couldn’t hold either the pipe or the gun steady. I was barely able to focus my eyes, but I kept my concentration on the doorknob of the front door. I waited for it to turn. I was sure the CIA was going to try to take my pipe away. And I didn’t want to share.

I’m not sure how it happened, but I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was like I was looking at myself from the outside. I saw this pathetic creature lying on the floor, wasting his life. My pipe was next to my head and my gun was still in my hand.

That event changed my life.

I decided to live.

I accepted responsibility for my past, took it head on, and have never touched drugs again. I didn’t go to rehab. I did everything myself.

I haven’t had a single relapse.

I’ve just decided to live.

Now my life is nothing less than spectacular.

-

Imagine that life is an amusement park filled with all of the best roller coasters. You get to pick one to ride – each lasts five minutes. To make the ride last, you have to wear your seatbelt. Sure, the ride may be more thrilling if you don’t strap yourself in, but it will be over after the first loop!

Life is like that roller coaster. Why make the ride shorter by doing stupid things!

My eulogy won’t be written by some unnamed individual. I’ve already written it.

“Thanks everyone! That was bad ass!”

by L.A. Nik