This a good story, long winded maybe so get yourself a drink and take your time to discover the wonderful world of sex, alcohol, drugs and Amsterdam! ! ! ! The argument as to wether drugs are ‘safe’ or not and all the other issues relating to soft or hard drugs can be summed up thus. If alcohol and tobacco had just been discovered they’d be banned substances, period. The fact that they are not is because they were introduced into society during a time when (particularly tobacco) the world did not have at it’s disposal all the medical evidence it does today. Oh and they raise billions of lb’s in tax. I digress. My story started out when I was in between marriages and going through a particularly ‘bollocks to the pope’ phase in my life.
I’d grafted hard at my marriage and was very happy, had a son, no money worries or career worries either. If you like a milk and honey period. BANG it all came tumbling down around me. Being a second class citizen ie. White, male, working class, decent income, no criminal record, paid my taxes locally and centrally.
I found myself on the receiving end of what can be laughably described as the UK ‘best in the world’ legal system. So that left me with fuck all really. Wife fucked off back to her folks took the savings most of the furniture (put into storage) the new car and a majority of the equity in the house. Only by her (reasonable behaviour) did I manage to hang onto the house now with a massive mortgage and a few possessions that made the place just about habitable. Oh and I had to take a lodger to help pay my way… Then the maintenance payments hit my wallet.
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You can see your son every other week-end blah blah blah you must now have a picture of a wrecked man. Well almost. It took a while to get on my feet but boy when I did I was like lin ford christie off like a rocket enjoying myself. One day I called on a customer (i was a sales representative at this time) with whom I did good biz nik with. The woman on the reception desk had become very friendly with me. She asked me one day if I’d like to go to amsterdam for the week-end? Wey hey I thought to myself the old dog has scored.
Then she told me more detail. I live in a town in England. The port of Dover is about three hours drive away the deal was to go over night on a coach on friday via ferry to Calais in France travel to Amsterdam and arrive crack of dawn on the Saturday morning. Spend all day mooching around the ‘historic’ city amd museums etc. Not to mention the infamous red light area. Leave midnight saturday and travel in reverse arriving back in my local town early afternoon sunday.
The day arrived and I with about 30 or so other employees of this company boarded the coach after several hours in a pub and several beers in the process. So far so good. Other than the usual stops to tap a kidney so to speak the journey went well. We duly arrived in Amsterdam at about 7. 30 AM. The coach dropped us off in a big open Square I don’t remember the name only the bar that was in it.
This bar was called the Bulldog Bar. (If you ” ve been to the centre of Amsterdam some of you will know this area. ) Any way the driver stipulated that we had to be back at this bar at 1. 30 am Sunday or we would be left behind. We knew they were serious as they were picking up a couple who were left behind the week before! The group all disembarked and split up into several gro pus. These intern split up into smaller groups.
I ended up with a very tasty girl called Caroline and a man called Derek. On our journey through Amsterdam we would bump into others from the coach. Everyone seemed to migrate to the Red Light district. Both Derek and Caroline smoked and had said in conversation they had tried Marijuana, hash, weed call it what you like. I said the only drugs I had tried were alcohol and something for a headache which bought gales of laughter. We decided we’d like to try ‘s pace Cake’ Amsterdam has a very very liberal drugs attitude particularly to Marijuana.
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Hard drugs are a different matter. So we went into a coffee shop and ordered three coffee’s and three pieces of cake. Very reasonably price as I seem to remember. We drank and eat the cake which tasted like aniseed.
About an hour and a half I could feel this stuff kick in and I started to feel slightly drunk. At this point we all went into an adult shop. I decided to buy some v ids to take back for some lon ley night pleasure with Mrs hand and her five daughters. I took my selection into a booth to play before purchase.
Played the v ids got horny and decided to rip one off in the booth. Said pleasure completed I came outside only to find my fellow travellers nowhere to be seen. By now I has on planet janet. Stoned and lost to boot. I had a panic attack my mouth was as dry as a center forwards jockstrap on a hot summers day. Now I knew where I was.
I had about lb 200 cash ($300) my passport and my visa card I could easily get a taxi back to the airport and fly one way back to the uk. I knew all this yet still I panic ed about getting back to the bulldog bar in a who’s name I could not recall! I looked left and right and still my travelling companions were nowhere to be seen. Thirst gripped my throat like a hangman’s noose around a neck. I then sawa small and went in for some bottled water. I purchased the bottle and asked for directions to the bulldog bar.
The bastards were only interested in selling me a map! Map I needed a guide dog! I then went into a trinket store where a young lady directed me to the ‘Bulldog Bar’ what an that was. I was seriously smashed. What was in that cake? I managed to get to this bar. Yes it was called The Bulldog bar… Sadly not the one I wanted. Shit, shit shit I kept saying to myself.
I went in. Dark low ceiling and that smell, I groaned more cannabis on the go. Not what I needed at this moment in my life I was hammered enough as it was. Now if you ” ve ever had a conversation with someone who is deaf but can hear or someone with a severely deformed cleft pallet you ” ll understand what I sounded like at this point! In other words stick your tongue to the roof of your mouth and try to talk without using or moving your tongue.
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So now you know! I asked this young woman behind the bar for directions to the bulldog bar. In very good english she informed me I was already ‘No, No’ I replied ‘Not this bar there is another one in a big square’ I replied. So she got another colleague to whom I repeated the story ‘ah’s he said ‘ I know where you need to go’. My spirits lifted to the skies.
She went on to give me directions written on a post it note which took me to the central tram terminus. There I was to catch the 2, 4 or No. 8 tram which went in a loop around the centre of Amsterdam and stopped off at the square with the Bulldog Bar! I thanked her with all the coherence I could muster. I told myself that they must see this all the time. So off I toddled on my merry way.
Right at the end of this block, down the street. Right again, keep going and you come out onto a big plaza with what seemed like a huge Church on the other side. To the right of this building and hey presto the tram terminus. I was saved! ! ! ! Well nearly any way. I was watching for cars, stupid are that I was I forgot about the trams.
Nearly killed by a no. 4 Tram would you believe? So I managed to avoid death by inches and joined the orderly queue for the tram. I climbed the steps to the driver a middle aged woman held out a mass of guilders (pre the euro) and told her where I wanted to go in my pigeon english (strong that I thought I was english) Then from behind the sweetest of young femininity piped up ‘ I’ll help you to go the the place you want, hold on to me!’ in my state I was not in a position to argue. She said something in dutch to the driver who took my money and issued me with a ticket.
This young angel of Amsterdam held my arm as the tram wound it’s way up and down streets I remembered travelling in the morning on foot. Then all of a sudden she said ‘here you go this is your stop’s he helped me off and waved me goodbye as she got off herself and disappeared into the ether. The dar was over to my left and I waited for the tram to go and toddled of in the direction of salvation. Then sat down ordered a beer. Then about ten minutes later but who should saunter in? Yes you ” ve guessed it. Caroline and Derek.
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They had the cheek to ask where I went. I explained my adventure and they explained that when I was pleasuring myself with the video’s they waited outside and were constantly approached by men who thought Derek was pim pining Caroline. They got worried and kept moving. Eventually they were out of sight and when I came out were on their way back to the bar on foot following the 2, 4 & 8 trams which rumbled by every five minutes. I was gripped by sudden hunger as well as thirst and bought a burger king meal next to the bar and savaged the bland pap. Well it filled a hole.
All to soon the coach arrived and we embarked on the return journey back to england. We stopped off outside Calais and bought some booze from a huge wine warehouse as the duty in mainland europe is half that of the UK. We arrived back in my home town at about 1 pm Sunday afternoon. I showered had something to eat and thought 40 winks and I’ll go down the pub later that day.
When I woke the sun was up a beautiful spring evening I thought. Something was wrong. I knew it was but could not put a finger on it. Then I put the TV on. Fucking hell it was 7. 00 am MONDAY MORNING! I quickly shaved got my suit on and drove like mad to get to my local office to start the weeks work all over again.
So there you are, my one and only time with drugs. I drove about my business on the Monday still under the influence of the space cake. NB. While waiting at the Bulldog Bar for the trip back home we discussed the effects of the cake. Both my travelling companions said it was aw some and the strongest stuff they’d had.
I did not have any previous to compare with. Then Caroline said something profound. ‘Dis you see the couple come in and have some cake after us?’ We shook our heads. ‘They had a piece of cake, not each like us but between them!’ I think that about sums it up then really. The moral of the story is you never know what you are taking, oh you Know it’s cannabis or heroin or cocaine and that’s all nothing else.
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The choice is yours. For my part I’ll stick to the few beers and an whisky!