Total lightweight with apologies
I don’t usually do weed (but only because I don’t like the taste). However, was coaxed into a trip to Amsterdam with other half, my brother, brother’s wife and their two friends. All I can say is that the events even now unfurl in my mind in a very bitty, disjointed and stream of consciousness kind of way thusly…
First stop - the Grasshopper. Roll splendidly enormous joints with candy striped papers while the Dutch locals look on and roll their eyes.
Smoke the lot in about 25 minutes, washed down with hot chocolate. Nom. Hit the streets.
Decide to find the red light district – at 10 in the morning. Because, obviously, it’s even sexier at 10am.
See a shifty looking bloke carrying a pink and white striped plastic bag. See lots of nice houses leaning at improbable angles. (They lean at those angles when you are sober too, which is very confusing.)
See houses that are less nice and pass an alleyway with two large Alsatians on chains surrounded by more shifty looking blokes.
Take a wrong turn. Walk a bit.
See the bloke with the pink and white striped plastic bag again. Take another wrong turn.
Genuinely unsure which country I am in. Is it Taunton? No, too many sex shops. Plus they would be called Sex Shoppes if they were in Taunton.
See the bloke with the pink and white striped plastic bag again. Go into a sex shop.
Laugh in awed and hushed tones at the size of some of the dildos on display. Purchase pack of ‘naughty’ playing cards which, judging by volume of pubic hair, were probably made in 1972.
On leaving sex shop, take a wrong turn. Pass an alleyway with two large Alsatians on chains surrounded by shifty looking blokes.
See the bloke with the pink and white striped plastic bag again. Starts to rain.
While crossing a bridge remark to other half that why, if it is raining, he hasn’t put his hood up.
Other half puts his hood on then immediately takes hood off and makes an unhappy noise.
Hood was full of rain water.
Lunch. I don’t remember this bit.
Go to the sex museum. View lots of photos of ladies in bloomers with their baps out and 8ft tall wooden cocks and laugh in a very childish manner. Take photo of 8ft call wooden cocks to show my mum but when the photos are developed these, strangely, are the only ones that do not come out. Censored by Boots the Chemist?
Move on to a room with a warning outside along the lines of “abandon hope all ye who enter here…”
Enter room and proceed to abandon hope. Stand out moments involved a dildo that looked as big as a baby’s head and lots of pissing. Beyond that, I don’t want to talk about it. Even now.
Almost get run over by a tram. Twice. Go to coffee shop. Go to the Rijksmuseum.
Sister-in-law blows off in the Egypt room.
Husband blows off on a wooden bench in the Doll house room just as a very nice Dutch couple walk in to inspect the exhibits. (he’s allowed to fart; he’s not well after doing battle with hot dog repercussions all night. Sister-in-law has no excuse.) Raucous noise and a massive echo, followed by barely controlled laughter and room fleeing activities. See the Night Watch and say “cool….” Mainly because It’s massive.
Being unable to take much more art, frankly, go to coffee shop.
Go to Delft shop to purchase gift for my mum. All too stoned to enter, so other half goes in. The Delft shop is very long and narrow. Lots of expensive figurines and wares displayed on tippy tables and unstable book cases. During his conversation with the nice Dutch lady in the shop, other half turns around a lot and the rucksack on his back swings back and forth, seeming to narrowly miss aforementioned figurines and wares as we squeal and roar with laughter outside, alternately putting our heads in our hands and covering our eyes.
Sister-in-law wets herself. Literally, not metaphorically.
Other half emerges after purchasing a nice trinket with an expression that says “what is wrong with you?” Nice Dutch lady in shop looks out and rolls her eyes.
See the bloke with the pink and white striped plastic bag again.
Crash out in hotel. Get on plane.Go home.

That’s not all of it – there are some bits that I’m not sure where they fit in to the sequence of events. Like brothers friend dragging us along on his personal quest for an increasingly mythical sports bar/coffee shop that he remembered from his last visit. Bearing in mind that he was probably just as monged then as he was this time, we could have soggily and complainingly tramped along every street in Amsterdam and never found it. I am sure he was either making it up or, more likely, had dreamt it.

Length – well, it just seemed to go on and on until the end of time. Like this post.
(faghag, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 16:04, 1 reply)

Quick tip:
If you're going to go to Amsterdam to get stoned, do not do so in mid-November. Unless, of course, you think that you can cope with Zwarte Piet.
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Sat 18 Sep 2010, 19:46, closed)