Amsterdam

So everyone (well, mostly potheads and prostitution afficiandos) say "You've got to go to Amsterdam, man. You can smoke marijuana out of a mushroom while being whipped by a leather-clad dominatrix." Well, I don't smoke marijuana, I don't do mushrooms, and I don't have sex, so I think I may have missed out on the full Amsterdam experience. Nevertheless, travelling to the city was a remarkable experience.

Amsterdam is a bit of a train ride from Brussels so I spent most of the morning reading on the train and gazing out the window. (In 30 minutes, I saw more sources of alternative energy in the Netherlands countryside than a lifetime in the States.) After arriving; the first thing I noticed was the flood of bicycles in the city. The train station has a parking lot for them! It is completely unlike the U.S., but I attribute this more to the physical layout of our country than to our wanton laziness and spectacular obesity. Like a true pervy American male, I made a bee-line for the Red Light District. Besides the nude beach at Robert Moses State Park, this may be the least sexy place in the entire world. I imagined gorgeous women pressing themselves against the windows, beckoning me for a snog. The reality: very ugly, very fat, very disinterested women slumped in a folding chair completely indifferent to my presence. One harlot, chatting on her cellphone in tarp-sized lingerie, looked in my general direction when I passed, but that was the closest I came to being solicited. Granted, it was the 11am shift on a Saturday, but Amsterdam's hypersexual image was still largely deflated. The wares being sold by creepy merchants weren't sexy, either. I'm really not tempted to buy a silicone replica of a woman's genitals just because a middle-aged Middle Eastern man says "It's just like the real thing!" I'll pass.

On the other hand; the drugs in Amsterdam of the finest quality. I do not have any moral opposition to marijuana, and have actually tried the banned substance on occasion, so my abstinence on this trip was based more on practical concerns. I begin my new job at the Port Authority in less than a month and I don't want to do anything that would jeaporidize (no chance I spelled that correctly) that beautiful, beautiful salary. But, I must say, the puffs of smoke coming from the cafés smelled delicious and I was seriously tempted to roll a joint and contemplate my arm. Mushrooms were also tempting, and I had read up on the subject before going to Amsterdam, but the idea of tripping alone in a foreign city was about as appealing as the prostitutes in the Red Light District, which is to say, very, very tempting.

The effects of drugs on a person were readily apparent as I meandered dozn the main drag (no pun intended) in Amsterdam. A British guy, about my age, was hanging out a hotel window, speaking in tongues and covered in blood. He was obviously tripping, and I watched in astonishment as firemen inflated a huge cushion (think The Blob from the Ben Stiller classic, Heavyweights) and then used the ladder from the firetruck to barricade our refined British gentleman in his hotel room, preventing the much-anticipated plummet to his death. Have you ever seen a guy jump from a building? Have you ever seen a guy jump from a building on weeeeed? Mindblowing.

Lunch time. More later.