Brace yourself, this is a long one.

Angus and I went to Amsterdam.

And big fun was had.

I realized I had been in Amsterdam almost exactly a year ago, staying with an old friend trying to forget the fact that I was a complete and utter failure to myself as I coped through the early days of being unemployed. I had only ever been through Amsterdam's Schipol airport en route to somewhere else (although I had been to other parts of the Netherlands before), and I always bought the requisite tulips to plant and to send to people, proof that I had been in the largest city in Holland. I remember my stay last year as being torn from a life that I had known with Company X and thrust into the unknown. I was unwilling to spend any money since I didn't know when more would come in. I was unwilling to try things, in case they permeated my tough shell and got inside of me, showing me how to feel again.

And right from the get-go, Angus and I vowed to do things differently. We had a few goals:

1) Shop
2) Eat these doughnut type things I'd had there before
3) See the red light district
4) Try some of those organic natural herbs I'd heard so much about

We left Thursday evening. We boarded the heavingly full BMI flight from London to Amsterdam and observed, with a wry smile, that we were in the very last row of the plane. Passing a number of people to-ing and fro-ing in the aisle, I passed a smiling flight attendant.

'Doing all right, my dear?' he asked, English accent in place and living life firmly to the left of 'very gay' land.

'Just fine.' I wheezed, squeezing past more chattering Englishmen in the aisle. 'I haven't had this much contact with people I have had sex with before.' I muttered.

He threw his head back and barked laughter. 'I hear that, my love!' he shrieks, and I swear I loved him right then and wanted to take him home and make him my new gay best friend, the type that would tell me if my ass looked too large in my new jeans.

The flight was uneventful until the landing, in which Captain Kangaroo decided to bounce us into the terminal just to ensure we would be drinking that night. It was so bad I gasped out loud, and grabbed Angus' hand. The Englishman next to him turned to us.

'That landing was dodgy.' He said, looking pale.

'Absolutely.' I replied, still shaken.

'I almost yelled for my mummy!' replied the Englishman.

Right. Too much information, mate.

Angus and I took a train to the Amsterdam Centraal Station and then a tram to our hotel. It was a tiny hole in the wall, but it was simple and clean and did the job. Not yet willing to go to sleep, we decided to take a walk. To get to know the shape and feel of Amsterdam, to see the sights.

We headed straight for the red light district.

As one does.

Walking hand in hand in the freezing weather, we noticed the streets were heaving. There were throngs of young men, all out of their minds on alcohol and the wacky tabbacky, all of them ogling the women in the windows with ghoulish delight.

And all of them were English.

Those that weren't were Scottish.

And the tiny portion of those that weren't English or Scottish were of some other foreign ethnicity who would offer us, in a very low mutter, the standard phrase: 'You want ecstasy, cocaine?'

Neither of which appealed.

The red light district is exactly how the documentaries portray them-women in white white bikinis under black lights, dancing in red-framed neon windows. A nubile Asian woman motioned to a spiky-haired Englishman querying about her price that she charged 50 Euros, which naturally led to Angus and I debating what 50 Euros gets you. The women were all framed in the windows-some dancing, some smiling, all with a bed, a sink, and an enormous supply of paper towels beside them. Some of girls were of Asian descent. Some of them were young and blond-looking Dutch babes. Some of them simply looked rode hard and put up wet.

I thought it was a surreal experience.

We went back to the hotel room, downed a bottle of wine, shagged like rabbits, and went to sleep.

The next morning saw us getting and getting moving relatively early. We walked around Amsterdam, a beautiful city that has more character than a number of European cities. The houses that survived the war are fantastic tall monuments to times gone by, with magnificent windows and doors that seem to dwarf the people the dwelt in them (except the Dutch are tall. Freakishly tall. They are, in fact, the tallest ethnic group in the world. It's one of the few places in the world where I can feel like a short chick.)

We bought some breakfast and coffee and walked through the streets. We bought Christmas presents and some Christmas decorations to delight our new home. We walked hand in hand and spent time enjoying the quiet and the company.

And then we went into a coffeehouse, which in Amsterdam is a euphemism for a place that you can buy coffee and goods with a kick.

Since we were in Amsterdam and since-believe it or not-I have never in my life tried any drugs, it had to be done.

We went into a coffee house, a dark, smoky den playing mind-disorienting techno, and bought some goods, which are legal in Holland.

I was keen to try it. I had never been able to try anything before and since we were there, it was legal, and I was with a boy I loved, it had to be done. We bought a cup of coffee, a pack of specific chemicals, and a space cake.

Let the party begin.

Angus partook of a third of something, and then had to go outside he was so dizzy and in desperate need of fresh air.

I lit up.

I went for it.

And I realized I was an utter failure.

In high school I tried to smoke a Marlboro once-I was in a cool crowd that smoked and I felt the need to try. The boy I fancied at the time lit one up for me in one smooth move from his own mouth (while lighting his own at the time) and handed it to me. And all I did was have paralytic coughing attacks. I just couldn't do it, no matter how hard I tried. My lungs simply seized up and said: 'Uhn-uh. That shit's not getting down here, babe. We don't do the smoking thing.'

It would be a legacy-there I was huffing and puffing and genuinely trying, but all I was doing was launching into coughing fits. I couldn't smoke it no matter how hard I tried. Not a single puff of air got through the vise-like mechanism my throat had on my esophagus. I had the opportunity, but it all boiled down to me being like Bill Clinton-I didn't inhale, although not for lack of trying.

I literally can't smoke.

Angus and I were promptly thrown out of the coffeehouse due to his severe reaction, and after attempting to force a kebab down his throat (and make conversation), we went back to the hotel for a nap. Angus was gorgeous-full of love, devoting, and decidedly off his head. I was also full of love, devoting, but stone-cold sober.

We napped for a while until our batteries were recharged and Angus' pupils had gone down, had a shag, then went out for dinner with some friends in Amsterdam. We went to a floating Indonesian place and gorged ourselves full of food. Then we walked back to our hotel room, and in order to get there, we had to walk through the Red Light district.

And it was there we decided to try something new.

On various clubs and doors in the district, you would see these signs: 'Live sex! Real couples!' We passed one such club and the doorman called over to us: 'Want to watch a live sex show?'

We looked at him. Did we? Want to watch complete strangers on a dark and smoky stage?

Absolutely we did.

'How much?' Angus asked.

'35 Euros.' Called the guy. Angus looked at me. I smiled. He smiled. We thought-we had to see this.

'20 Euros.' Angus countered.

'25 Euros and 2 free drinks each.' Doorman said. I never thought I'd ever be bargaining to watch a sex show.

'Done.' Angus grinned, and we slapped money on the counter and were escorted up some very dark stairs. At the top, the landing opened and we saw a massive stage, a bar the length of the room, and more Englishmen present than in the entire county of Surrey. We took some seats on a bench near the stage, grinned at each other, and ordered some drinks from the harassed looking waitress.

The show soon started, and the first two acts were the usual strip-type of show that one sees at any strip joint. The third act came on, and at the same time an American couple sat down next to me. She was wrapped head to toe in fleece and looked a little bewildered. He was bedecked in Arctic-type gear and looked enthusiastic. The woman on the stage stripped, danced, wiggled for the Englishmen, and then took a volunteer from the audience and dragged him onstage. She then proceeded to show him how to use a vibrator on her and then laid down and he used the buzzing toy on her using only his mouth.

The American chick looked like she was going into shock.

The Englishmen were going wild.

I found the whole thing hilarious.

The fourth act came on, and it was a couple-she had bizarre 'I Have a Crimper and I Love It' hair, and he was graced with wildly pouffy Charlie's Angels hair and danced like someone who had never once before perused the 'Women Seeking Men' newspaper ad category. They danced and strutted to and fro for a while before whipping off their clothes and getting it on. And to my horror, I saw that the overly proud man had a winky wanky woo that headed at a full 90 degree angle, before ending in an embarrassing pink point. They had full-sex on the stage then, to an audeinece of maybe 100.

The American girl next to me looked like she would shatter if someone touched her.

The audience was going mad.

The acters looked bored.

My hand in Angus' crotch, I found the whole thing wildly amusing.

At the end of the song, the couple on stage just stopped, standing up and bowing, expecting applause. There wasn't even any "crossing of the finish line". The audience looked confused but applauded gently. I couldn't help but feel I absolutely couldn't applaud someone that had such an unappealing penis. It was as though he wasn't even aware that it was a mistake, a bizarre appendage with a mind of its own.

We left, giggling and holding hands, and made our way back to the hotel. I ate a space cake on the way, hoping to feel some effects from the pharmaceuticals on offer in the country. Once back in the room, we promptly fell into bed and had rapid, urgent sex before falling instantly asleep. I only awoke once, feeling all of my skin tingling and burning, but the next morning I awoke to a nuzzling Angus and realized that I had slept right through the high I would have had.

Score: Mary Jane: 2, Helen: 0.

But I do have to confess that in the morning I woke up so hungry I could have eaten an entire pizza. And the thought did occur to me, only not even the Dutch are that hungry in the morning.

We took the flight home, enjoying the Dutch holiday 'doughnuts' (called oliebole) at the airport, and then flew home.

But what an adventure.

-H.

PS-I have been nominated for a best blog award in a tiny category of blogs. I'm not sure how I feel about it, but you can vote for me once every 24 hours if you want.

PPS-Broadband on Friday! That means access to blogs, email, and IM! Most blogs are inaccessible from work, so hopefully I'll be a little more vocal shortly.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:18 AM | Comments (16) | Add Comment
Post contains 2106 words, total size 12 kb.

1 'spice' food is best eaten say around noon.. given a couple hours to kick in then.. the fun starts. If your not a tobacco smoker.. you'll have a painful time getting high on smoke.... How you look at the experience does make a big difference... Happy holidays!!!!

Posted by: LarryConley at December 06, 2004 09:28 AM (y5h4n)

2 Sounds like the only thing you missed was that really lovely genever gin.

Posted by: RP at December 06, 2004 11:06 AM (X3Lfs)

3 What a fun weekend - and the relaxation well deserved I think....

Posted by: martha at December 06, 2004 01:21 PM (5HJ2h)

4 Sounds like you had fun. My friend has told me about Amsterdam on several occasions, and I'm really hoping to do it sometime. Though I may pass on the recreational pharmeceuticals. Been there, done that, the memory is a little fuzzy... ;-)

Posted by: E_C_Gordon@yahoo.com at December 06, 2004 01:42 PM (U89mk)

5 wee! sounds like a thrill of a weekend. what naughty fun! the inhaling can be tricky, but it's nothing like cigarettes. i can't smoke those either...maybe oneday i'll give you a lesson. ;-P

Posted by: kat at December 06, 2004 04:28 PM (QkuGS)

6 Good for you Helen! There are only 2 reasons to go to Amsterdam anyway.

Posted by: CarolC at December 06, 2004 04:30 PM (EpzrK)

7 Sounds like you had a great time!

Posted by: justme at December 06, 2004 05:25 PM (zdtiB)

8 How wonderfully decadent! I'm soenvious...although I wouldn't take the space cake nor the smoke; I don't deal well with that drug. But I would have loved to have seen the sex onstage, the fragile American's reactions and the pink penis. I adore oddities and unusual experiences. If you go again, maybe they have bongs? That makes it much easier for non-smokers..

Posted by: Amber at December 06, 2004 05:34 PM (zQE5D)

9 Last row on the plane again, huh? I think BMI needs a stern talking to. Have I mentioned how jealous I am? I wanna go!

Posted by: emily at December 06, 2004 05:35 PM (2zW8B)

10 I'm envious of every part of that except the inability to inhale. hee Sounds like you had an awesome time! Good for you!

Posted by: scorpy at December 06, 2004 07:53 PM (SYCBZ)

11 I'm trying to remember back to the days I didn't know how to inhale. Nope, the memory's gone! Gee, I wonder why! Think it's funny - most commenters seem to be ok with the public sex but not the pharms, while I would be the exact opposite. Watching others 'perform' live seems the exact opposite of sexy. Ah well. To each their own and glad you had a relaxing weekend.

Posted by: Kaetchen at December 06, 2004 11:26 PM (1nMRx)

12 I think I have to drive down to A'dam one day. Seems like you had a great time

Posted by: Tine at December 07, 2004 12:04 AM (yDp0y)

13 I'm happy you had such a great time!! It sounds like watching the lady next to you was better than the show itself in different ways! lol

Posted by: MrBob at December 07, 2004 02:27 AM (CE8Hn)

14 Oh, to have won the lotto so I could meet you there! I absolutely LOVE to people-watch. And that there sex show sounds like a good time -- really! *sigh* One day, Helen. One day. I'm going to win a big chunk of change and I'm going to come see you. Fair warning. xoxo

Posted by: Margi at December 07, 2004 04:34 AM (rKX9f)

15 My hubby and I were married in Italy and Honeymooned in Amsterdam... we figured we needed to relax. We hit a live sex show also... I swear we saw the same guy you described, he was built wrong.

Posted by: Jessica at December 07, 2004 04:54 AM (QI+Rl)

16 don't feel too badly about the "herbs." most people don't even get high the first time anyway. you need to come visit us Houston folk. it's not legal here, but when has that stopped anyone?

Posted by: girl at December 13, 2004 01:39 AM (uZxXS)

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