4 Ways How I Almost missed the James Altucher Show

4 Ways How I Almost missed the James Altucher Show

I speak to Mr. Altucher his assistant and sound engineer, bout the date, when we roll, he says how about Monday, I know I have something on Sunday, which will leave me in a certain state, so I propose Tuesday, but he says, Nah schedule is full, I know how important this thing is, I mean, I will be – mean supposed to be – home Monday evening anyways, so I accept.

This is how you tempt fate, but this is how it becomes clutch, and all the more important, and through said tension, all the way cooler.

It’s like a NBA superstar hitting a free-throw in an away game with 50,000 hates booing him to miss, I didnt have, nor have, that many haters but I knew there were some churls just waiting for me to fumble the ball, not make the James Altucher Show (JAS), or appear on the show and not perform.

I knew in my heart that neither of those two things were going to happen. I just knew. Not because I am the Fury, or something like that, but just because when something is in my field of competence, and in terms of statistics and probability – I just have to show up and converse, neither are actually building a ZPM machine and gunning for infinite energy – I can do it, and was gonna do it.

And ofc, like any decent man, love to prove haters wrong.

The Sunday was the day after a wedding, that was what was gonna leave me in a “certain” state, if you know what I mean. I had had the bachelor (stag do, such british) party in London in May and now it was June, so the destination wedding was in Portugal, small remote location (undisclosed) near Lisbon.

Everybody flew in on the Friday and the wedding itself was on the Saturday, everybody fucked up, Sunday they’d all leave. So technically there was room for error, and rest, and hundred per cent showrate for the JAS. But thats not the HOOA way (Fury way).

It started on Friday eve, which turned into night btw, where the best man said to me, “Yo Fury just go home early, man. Dont drink so much. You have to get up early. Tomorrow is another day.”

I was suited up in a dark suit, smoking a Gryffin cigar, didnt pull that well, or at all, horrible, absolute trash, but was couple wines in, and beers, and whiskeys and idk, so it didnt matter. Also the words passed on to me, by my old friend, they also didnt matter.

“Sure thing,” I said. 


He got up, with his gf, and a big part of the bridal party, the groom, his wife to be, the best men, whatever theyre called and all the bridesmaids, and some other people who wanted to be responsible.

I was seated at a table with an American girl, with short hair, who was the quirky thirst trap of the table, not a lot of girls, and available, for that matter. There was an Asian guy, who was so lit that it was fake, but I liked him, and liked him for it. Mean, I knew a f ton of guys like that, where I grew up. One sympathizes. He was a Korean, stuck in Portugal, same way I was a Japanese Samurai stuck in the west. But seriously old familiar same old same old. He had good banter and kept buying the table a f ton of drinks, think he wanted to smash that chick, or succeeded. 


All I know is that I got drunk, hefty, and the night was warm and I was sitting in that courtyard with amply people, so many empty tables and empty glasses. And found one pair of sunglasses. I went through another cigar as well and the night was very young, until it wasnt, and it was still warm, and cozy in my suit, and the hotel was close and then the moon came and the Asian walked us home. 



I did go home early. I didnt drink that much. And yes, tomorrow was right then, it was another day.

When I do this, staying out late, and drinking, I tend to wake up super early. Its both a gift and a curse, because youre holding on to dear life for the whole day, and now the wedding, and the rest of the upcoming days, but you do tend to be the early bird, whilst at the same time I was last man standing.

I go, still same suit, downstairs to the lobby of the five star hotel I was staying in, to the breakfast buffet. The best. The whole hotel had very nice and cute staff, and the place was decked out with brown marble, and it was roomy and chill and quite quiet in hindsight. The stone gave it a cooler indoor temperature, because outside it was smoking. There was a pool there, that I didnt get to use, per uge, when running and gunning, its a good sign tbh, you’re so busy.

Just remembered, I had a nice view of the pool, from my room, and in the distance of the village, so picturesque, and idyllic and cozy and summery and I sent a pic to the Norwegian girl I was dating, said to her, come her, Id even propose to fly her in, but she was prolly too busy doing coke or something glam (in her head).

The breakfast buffet was recharge time, for the life of me I dont rlly know anymore what I ate, it wasnt that good tbh, but I had a tower of coffee and green tea. Tower as in, I kept drinking one after another and kept stacking them up. I was there so long that a cool gent from the stag party who was very intelligent came to sit at my table and we had a very long interesting conversation. I sat there so long he finished all his stuff and he went up to take a nap before the wedding. I sat there from start till end.


Two latecomers to the wedding were two longtime friends I’ve known since highschool, one was wearing his hair bunned up like me, the other with a short crew cut. Their room wasnt ready, yet, and they asked if they could chill in my room, and get dressed for the wedding.

The guy with the bun, we go way back, and havent spent a lot of time together quantitatively, but rather through the density of the select moments. There was Krakow 2017, Tomorrowland 2019, London 2019 (went to watch the Darren Till v Masvidal fight in the O2 Arena and went to visit my friend), London again in 2022 for the stag do, and now this. It isnt a lot, on paper, but the bond we have is hard to describe, but we got eachothers back.

And he introduced me to Taiwanese single malt whiskey, and had gifted me my very first single malt whiskey, in one of those tiny little bottles in 2018 I think, for Christmas, which I gifted and shared to my father and rest of family.

And per tradition, he brought a new bottle of Kavalan, his brand, this G is the only guy who at the “Gathering Party” of Tomorrowland on a Thursday buys a whole bottle of single malt whiskey. Its more a Captain Morgan, Jack, or JW kinda party if you know what I mean.

So we drink Kavalan Car in our hotel room, the guy with the crew cut opts out, he’s tired, just from the flight etc, I get em, but I do also get myself and drink the Kavalan with my bro because theres never gonna be a moment like this and I completely ignore the feeling I had in the morning after that night out and this is now and Im there and then the drinking start and the wedding starts, in my head.

We get dressed for the wedding, I wear my favorite scarlet suit, I wear it everywhere, even wore it to the club with the Tates, it has the best fit on me, and fit is king and is one of the three fundamentals of fashion. The lobby is packed and everybody is tense. A lot of people were staying at that hotel, because the church was close. The tension was because somehow, for the life of us, we were gonna be late to the wedding, because the taxis were amply, or not coming fast enough.

I said to the two bros, You want me to call my guy?
Tapping my smooth scarlet suit pants pocket, foreshadowing to a card in it.

My guy? they ask.

I give them the rundown. I had come to this remote location by train. There, in front, realized the hotel was far away asf. So had to take a taxi. By chance just took the first one in line, remember even walking to a smaller taxi, because it was just me, but that guy said no, and mimed me towards the front of the charge and it was Alfonso, dk if that was his name, but lets give him a cool codename.

Alfonso and I had hit it off. Classic Fury cab driver talk, ngl. I am the best at it, over the years, because I have so much fun, thats the most important, lol. But moreso, because they start to trust me. Give me discounts. And are extremely reliable when you actually need them. We had built nice rapport and his son was now married to an Asian woman and he asked after the culture and I pretended to know sh about Korean culture, lmao. But at the end of the ride, because it was a small town, and he was a savvy old vet in the business, and he liked me, gave me his card.

Which was being tapped, inside my pocket.

The crew cut guy was assertive and the bun was laidback, so the first said nah we dont need it and the second let it go and Im placid in this case and was like shrug it and let everybody get stressed out asf. Your call idgaf, i dont mind being late to the ceremony.

I’ll skip the ceremony because thats private and intimate and almost sacred but Ill say this one tho:

At her wedding the bride is the most beautiful woman that ever existed. This has nothing to do with mere normal conceptualized mere mortal reductionist terms of beauty.

Came up with that one in the church, gazing at the bride.

Fast forward to when everything became clutch was at the reception, because thats when the HEAVY boozing began.

Odin, the Great Fury, drank only of wine and spoke only in poetry

Not only did the waiters, at your dining table, kept feeding you infinite wine. Both red and white, mixing no bueno. But also, mucho gusto. But they started to bring out this portuguese whiskey which was the best, man. And outside they had infinite G&Ts which was the best, man. And they started dealing out champagne and then I lit up my Camacho Connecticut cigar, what a splendid moment.

Suffice to say I got lit. So lit that two things happened.

I acquired an extra pair of shades.
I lost my wallet.

Lets warp to the end of the night when I realized this. Ofc it had to be me. But everybody was fucked up, even the married couple and it was late and dark and into the early hours almost and everyone was waiting for a cab ride home and there wasnt enough, and I was tapping my jacket pocket in a fit of moronic litness ofc.

However, I am the man. I slipped my fingers inside my smooth suit pants pocket. The card was there. Alfonso. I dial his numbers. And I kid you not, this mofo picks up in less than a second. Strange. It was late asf. I said, I need you to pick me up. He said, I know where it is, I brought a couple people there, earlier, for the wedding, right. I say, OK. He says he’s on his way and he was!

There like a f NIGHTRIDER, ghastly in the haze of our boozing splendor and stupor he appears and Im the mf G, cant hold my smirk, but I play it cool, gotta keep it classy and everyone hops on board, including the father of the groom. Which was important for me. Know the guy longtime and his father, too, we go way back. He was having a good time and needed to be directed home, safely, and this got the job done. And the two bros were with me, too, and off we went and I hopped on too.

The next day Im fucked and didnt find my wallet ofcourse.

I had to be in Lisbon, to check in a hotel that night, but also if I wouldnt find my cards I wouldnt be able to catch my flight and miss the JAS. So it begins, here it begins.

I was barely getting ready when the bun guy rapped on the door, he had to leave actually, because he had work. So he was off to the airport of Lisbon, ready to go home.

You find your wallet? He asked.

Nope, I said.

He gives me a hundo, without saying anything like a f ninja. Later, when I had access to my banking again, I offered to pay him back and he just ignored the request like it was nothing and continued to talk about something else. Yeah, he’s got my back.

Ngl the best friends are like a frikking deus ex machina, always there, always reliable, always in tiptop shape, and like a specter appearing when you most need them. (not just friends btw, your women, too, and family).

I was smoking and drinking coffee at a local café, when the groom texted me. He said he had the wallet. Thank fuck. He gave me a location, this is where the bridal party was staying, he’d do some groceries and come bring the wallet later. The wallet was found by the staff at the reception venue.

I call Alfonso, lmfao, this mf never sleeps. He drops me off at the location. He knows it. Ofc. He knew the party was staying there, ofc. He drops me off as the gate opens and I walk in, supremely dressed with my luggage.

I stash my luggage after I meet one of the bfs of the bridesmaids, he said, just put ur stuff there, which I did, put it inside, safe enough and then he said everyone is at the pool. Figured go there and wait for the groom and the wallet.

I walk in view, then one of the best man said, Yo Fury, my man, you never stop partying do you!

It was the way I was dressed, how I walked in, tiptop shop, pristine, wired but tired, hungry, depleted, but full of spirit, still kicking and places to go and be, and needed to be, and still alive which was the most important and this is to be felt and you can feel that oozing aura pulsating and titallitating outwards. And the remark stipulates that.

I just smile and say nothing.


I banter with everyone and take  seat and dip my feet in the pool, then smoke, then I banter more, and the girls are cute, but theyre taken, I get offered sangria, oh so nice, then I smoke some more while sunbathing and I wait and wait and drink and banter and smoke and smoke and then the bride appears in view.

I walk towards her.

She had the wallet. She made a joke about emptying the cards. I let her. She offered me the wallet, and I almost courtsied to relay my eternal thanks. Without the wallet, I would be broke in a foreign country, again.

I gave Glory to God and said to the bride, By the Grace of God! She swatted it away and said, Or just the people who work at the venue.
I let her. Looked at her. And said, You were radiant yesterday in your dress.

The groom by then was thanking a nap in the shade and corner. I hugged the groom, thanked him, and left.

I called Alfonso one last time and he knew it.

“Yo Alfonso, you were up late, man,” I said in the cab.

He said to me that he had trouble sleeping because he had been chronically ill, but was now in remission. He said it was in the throat before, and the cause was smoking.

“You should stop smoking,” he warned.

I let him, staring out the window, enjoying the sights. We were going up a small elevation, and the road was spiraling around, and you could look down over the beautiful Portuguese villages. I was dreaming, and yearning, and longing, what was there, how nice, and who lived there and what were they doing and where they happy, prolly not but who cares and these were the last views of quiet before the storm once more and I knew this.

Near the station, but not fully, Alfonso raised his hand above his head. A button up high. Pressed it. The meter stopped. He looked at me. I nodded. One last ride.

He stopped at the train station and told me that there were train cancellations because people were on strike and he even checked his phone for the time. And which platform to go. He warned me there were delays. I just nodded.

After I got out, he got out too, waving to this and that house and platform and said dk if you can buy tickets, hope so, this platform. It was care and he was the best, and what a cabbie he was. I just nodded, paid, and oh lord did that ninja had my back, the money was just barely enough for all the cab rides, and said my goodbye.

At the platform I meet the friend Ive known for a quarter century, yes I am a vamp, and his gf. We were all waiting for the train. It was a classic platform with no signs suspended from the air to signal when the train was coming or which train was which. This caused confusion when one train came and we thought it was it, and we jumped in.

The tickets were of the kind that you were seated at a specific wagon and seat, reserved so to say, but here, in this train everyone was just scattered here and there and didnt seem to care. An alarm went off mentally, but not loud enough. I was prolly too tired of all the commotions of the day before, booze, lack of sleep, dancing, running around, driving around, smoking, losing wallet, etc.

As the doors began to close and the train was bout to take off my friend appears in sights and says, Yo Fury this aint it! He darts to my left out the closing door and I have to jump after him. I manage. But my trolley didnt. It was in my right hand and got stuck between the closing doors. Instantly I thought hell no, and I give it an insane tug. It comes loose. And as I want to walk away to go back to the bench and wait for the proper train and old Portuguese woman shouts something from behind me.

I turn around. And she points at my trolly, first. Then to the gap beneath the train and the platform, underneath it. I look to the bottom of my trolley a wheel came loose, and fell underneath the train. This created a damn spectacle and everyone on the platform was looking at me. And this was on top that I was dressed with swaggy Chinese vibes and all the classic Portugues undisclosed location local racism you know.

Everything went into bullet time, I knew what to do. The train left. I jumped on the platform, after checking if a train wasnt coming. There wasnt. So on the platform, I look around. FAST. I find the wheel. I jump back on the platform and say to the old lady, Obrigado. And she shakes her head after saying, De nada, but in typical temperament of the Portuguese she keeps making feisty hand gestures and making sounds in the air, complaining to anyone who was in her vicinity.

My friend, who gets ashamed a lot, and fast, didnt even fully register what had just transcribed. I was that fast. And he made eyecontact with me, as if saying, What happened?

I just shrugged, and said, to no one in particular, really, just the air, Till the wheels come off, baby.

Ofc no one was there to hear, nor get the joke, really.

So, tally, wallet lost. Retrieved. Almost jumped on wrong train and off to a wrong destination. Avoided. These were two ways I might’ve missed the JAS, who’s keeping score.

I’ll skip the Lisbon aspect, but there was a lot to see, just in one day, tbh and it was still early enough and the sun was out and there were St. Sebastian parties going on everywhere. I checked in my hotel safely, in the street connecting to the main plaza, with lots of taxis straight to the airport. So the show was secured, I just had to take it easy.

This is not the HOOA way, not the Fury way, so I went out, and into the night, and found two festivals. Got drunk asf, walked around town, talking to women, meeting strangers, and with hefty smoking.

At around 4 am, after dropping off a Chilean dude I met at the festival at his BnB, I was walking back to my hotel, when in the dark, trynna circumvent all the people walking on the street, I darted passed two Portuguese men on their bicycles.

They did not like this, at all. They got off their bicycles and started pointing at me, and shouting and cursing at me in their native tongue.

It’s dark, and super late, and there are thousands of people sitting on the ground, or playing last man standing game, or going home, and or getting their last beers, or just standing in groups waiting for a cab home, but ofc they have to have me.

Classic hate.

I quicken my pace and they even follow me for a bit, but I go to this main roundabout where I had seen squad cars and teams of police men, and my back against the cops and now facing these two goons, my arms spread wide, looking at them, staring at them, What you gonna do now, mfs?!

After that I zigzag, quicken pace bit further, Im alone, lone wolf, no backup, so I have to move quick and disappear left and right into the night and all the way back safe and sound to my hotel room.

Glass door opens, I walk in, my face ashen and I want to go straight to my room, but up ahead the girl behind the check-in says something. Have to show ID. I give it to her.

She looks into my eyes. She knows something is amiss.

Idk what she said, but I said, Yeah just typical Portuguese people.

She said, What is that supposed to mean?

It’s late, 4 am late, and it’s been a long journey, and Im drunk off my mind and fighting sleep and I need to get to the JAS, just lemme sleep woman. I keep cool.

I said to her, Nothing. It doesnt mean anything. And I smirk. Which completely disarms her, or rather it melts her, and she smiles back, quite beamingly, almost cinematic and she said, Oh wow, there is that smile, all for me!

After, I had pondered that moment, quite often.

Next morning, no hiccups, well oh right wanted to go on a date with this hot Portuguese chick, but completely misjudged the time at which needed to be at the airport for the flight home, this is the monday, this is game time.


Anyways, at the main square, secure taxi, get to airport. Check in. Flight home. Back in Belgium, I go outside and have a decision to make. It was gonna be tight. I had about two hours left before I had to be behind my desktop to get to the JAS. Which normally would be fine.

However, everything clutch, I had just missed the train. Which meant another one was coming, but that one would be too late, and Id miss the show. So thats why was outside, to get a cab. But apparently everyone had the exact same bright idea and the queue was LONG. I had zero idea how long this was gonna take and the drive back home was minimum forty minutes, up to sixty. So one hour. Which meant I could not wait in line for more than an hour, or I was totally fucked.

There was literally nothing I could do. I had to wait in line. Wait for the cab. And just have faith. I tried to not look at the time, every five or ten minutes and was just stressing the f out and looking at the line moving slower and slower.

After a long, long wait, I manage to get a cab ride home and I do get home in time, alls well that ends well.

And the JAS went quite OK, but if I came off across tense. Well, it was an accumulation of all the things that couldve gone wrong but didnt, and to say the least, now looking back, was quite fortunate for all the luck on my side and its a good sign, to always keep the faith and keep pushing forward.  

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