Scourge and Transparency

The Rise and Fall of Advanced Social Journalism during the Early Twenty-First Century

Posts Tagged ‘french fries with mayo

Fucking Amsterdam…

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Reclining on a mattress flat on the floor in a skid row bedroom. There is a dreary – almost balmy – weather breezing through the window. Syd Barret purposely plays in the background. I would never have tolerated this place if it were not for living off the shirt off my back in Western Europe for over a month.

Amsterdam seems like I good place to start: if Vegas ever fucked me, this Dutch city raped me ten times over like a slender shaved young kid serving an almost suspended sentence. After literally pissing sour Belgium beer for several days I walked around the so-called “weed capital of the world” looking for a pint under 5 euros.  On the streets of Amsterdam it is very easy to get talked into buying hard drugs. One of the many black gentlemen hustling got me to purchase a gram for 40 euros (a price I soon realized was popular).

Now – I was high and wondering through the Red Light district. I’d say I exchanged two words with some dude before we decided to binge together. I said, “what’s up?” and he says “I’m waiting for my buddy to fuck a hooker.” His friend walks out of a room right after our conversation shouting “God damn, I couldn’t cum! Do you wanta do some molly?” I say “yes” and mention the cocaine.

Long story short: it’s 7 am and I’m in a cutthroat hotel out of drugs and out of my mind. I tell these dudes I’m gonna make my way back to the hostel I’ve yet slept in to get some much-needed snooze hours. But they incessantly harass me to hang with them. Mind you I don’t even know these guy’s names. When push comes to shove they convince me by explaining that we’ll grab some beer for the time being and all will be right with the world.

So after being high as fuck till the sun rises over the canal you’ve got two anglophones with blue-ish snot dripping down their noses from ecstasy looking for a place that’s open to sell us a 2-4 so we can keep the buzz going. We eventually get some pilsner and keep drinking…and we get more Charlie….and more Charlie…or maybe it was M???  You can never be too sure with these European drug pushers. 

Well the next thing I know we’re snorting in my new best friends’ hotel room and they begin to pass out. And I can’t hold this against them considering we’ve been awake for about 36 hours and had nothing but drugs and alcohol in our systems.  But since they’re falling asleep I’m left with very little entertainment. When I look at these sleepyheads I realize I’m pretty sure I’ve paid for the better half of the coke we’ve got left. So I snort a couple lines, grab a beer for the road and steal two smokes out of their side pocket. Immediately I go downstairs and ask directions for a market I vaguely remember that is supposedly near my accommodations. When I arrive I wolf down some delicious French fries with mayo or something-or-ever and somehow make it back to the hostel.

When I awake I have no coherent memory of whether I arrived at my residence during either daylight or during night. Nor I am quite sure what day of the week and/or month it is. From the window view it is apparently dark outside. I go to the restroom to brush my teeth. The first man in the sink next to me I ask, “excuse me, do you what time it is?” and he bluntly answers, “I have not a fucking clue, man!” The next guy I ask the same question and he replies in a muffled accent, while examining his watch, “I don’t know because…I haven’t changed since my country….so sorry.” Fucking Amsterdam…and I spent five more days there…

Written by shanedantimo

January 15, 2014 at 12:28 am