Ah. Amsterdam.
A couple of years ago when I was doing Graphics at college, the teachers decided it would be a good idea to take a bunch of 16-19 year old students to Amsterdam on the pretence of artistic merits.

At this time I was a naive 16 year old and very innocent. Me and my mate Chrissie didn't know anybody else on the trip so got stuck in a room with a suicidal bint, a couple of chavettes and a crack whore who drew her own eyebrows on. On the first night of having to stay in this shithole, I opted to stay in the room with Chrissie. This got us the reputation of being lesbians, which lasted for the next two years.

Anyway on the second night crack whore and suicidal bint persuaded us to come out drinking. I try my first ever half pint of lager and decide I hate it. Chrissie hates hers too so I drink the rest of it. We decide to go back to schoolgirl friendly Bacardi Breezers. After about two of these I'm conviced I'm trashed and we all head out to a gay bar called the Camp Cafe where I proceed to knock over several glasses of wine and get a lot more drunk. I don't remember the next part, but I did manage to stab myself with a load of badges and convince myself it was a wasp, and apparently I was having problems sitting on a leather seat. When we got back to the hotel we went to the club downstairs, passing the teachers (who were sitting in the bar, pissed) with a cheery wave. Then I sort of hit my limit and fell over the side with a plop, cried my eyes out and ended up getting off with suicidal bint. (My first proper kiss, too)

Then some girl collapsed and everyone said she'd taken ecstasy.

The rest of the trip followed the same sort of format, with my excessively psycho teacher getting stoned and becoming overexcited about tulips, me getting stoned in a cafe accidentally and refusing to go in the industrial lift which had moving walls and grease stains that looked like blood. (So everyone had to walk down 11 floors) and the whole hotel getting hotboxed so as you walked up each flight of stairs you got progressively more lightheaded.

Oh, and on the way back, teachers tried to scare us with stories of rubber gloves, sniffer dogs etc... didn't get asked a thing. Guy in my class smuggled some weed back purely accidentally. One of the chavettes cried rape. All in all, the decision was that that college will never to go back to Amsterdam again. I like to think I played my part.
(Marmite Omelette ...but I feel better having screamed, don't you?, Tue 12 Dec 2006, 0:08, Reply)