Memory Lane: New Years In Amsterdam
The year was 2004.
Went with a female friend of mine. She was aloof most of the time so it was like being alone.
I decided to take a bunch of mushrooms on New Years. There was a big event going on in Damsquare and figured it would be exciting to experience it while tripping. We had plans to meet 3 British guys we meet a few days before and hang out but it was all tentative, we had no idea where the mushrooms would take us. We meet these guys while in a coffee shop. They were all underage but had some great fake ids and seemed like really nice guys, be it young, dumb and full of cum. They had come to Amsterdam to lose their virginity and get high and it seemed they were eager to do both.
T-Minus 2 hours and counting until 12 midnight. We decide to take the mushrooms around 11 pm so we don't get too high on the walk over and get lost or distracted. We were staying at a small place about 6 blocks from Damsquare, so there was plenty to distract. As 11 rolled around, we took our package (I had what was labeled Hawaiians) on the way and found ourselves a place near the fountain. Damsquare was interesting as it was not very large, around 300m x 300m square with the buildings surrounding it all 3-4 stories tall. The asian community drives around Damsquare with fireworks strapped to their car, which filled from one roof line to the other with millions of sparkles of light.
As the high comes up, its compounded by the horde of people flowing into Damsquare. It seems by the second, THOUSANDS of people are rushing in, volleying for place close to where the ginormous speakers are located. I struggle to grasp hold of the reality around me as I start to notice people who are piling fireworks together, lighting them and then kicking them. The resulting spectacle leaves the ground covered in pyrotechnic beauty that flocks of people proceed to dance in.
Moments before 12 midnight, the lights deem down to a minimum. Spot lights spiral around the crowd of what must be over 30,000+.
Then there is... The Boom.
Its a bass note so deep, so ever penetrating, it shakes the souls of your ancestors located deep in your DNA. It stops the fireworks dancers in their tracks. People notice when bass hits so hard it rattles your bones.
From what I can tell, I don't speak dutch and was busy freaking the fuck out, but I believe the national anthem was being played. The crowd knew the diddy and proudly chanted it like children of the corn. Promptly after the song, the count down began. Each number was provided another sonic boom from the speakers until we reached 0.
The lights went out and bass came on with even more thunder. Spot lights lit up and all 30,000+ people started raving. With the strobes and lighting, the result was a sea of people, making waves as far as I could see. The area was getting crowded and I was grasping the fountain with the best of my ability while my brain melted under the psilocybin.
Being entirely over stimulated, my friend and I both promptly left in hopes to get away from the sound and crowd. Some how remembering our plans to meet our friends, we look at our clock and notice only 15 mins had passed and for being on mushrooms, we had built up an appetite.
When we came to Amsterdam, we had no idea how much lodging or food would cost us. We had general speculations but once arriving, we were shocked. After implementing our serious budgeting skills, we figured out that we could have 2 out of 3 things which were 1) Lodging 2) Food 3) Entertainment (including cannabis). We always had a place to sleep and smoke in our pipe so we found ourselves hungry quite often. Sometimes we would eat space cakes, a combo of both food and weed, to save money and that helped.
This moment, between the motivation to obtain food from sheer hunger and mushroom induced desire to go on a fantastic journey, we decided to take up the offer of a sandwich sign and a fellow handing out flyers out front. The sign said "SEX SHOW" and the gentleman's flyer explained I could have a warm meal with my sex show! Sounded like a winner to me.
I told that fellow he can lead me to my thrown, the king of the sex show is now here. He handed me the flyer and pointed me towards the front door. Walking in, just like any place in Amsterdam, I was welcomed by a tiny little cuckoo clock type lay out. Very narrow and long, the entire room was 30 foot long and around 12-15' wide, with a small stage at one end. There is a speckling on tables and chairs and I notice a couple people already there sitting in the back.
I grab myself a front table spot, I'm not the tallest person in the world and I didn't want to miss a thing. By now I'm having a full blown trip, the walls are breathing, shits color shifting and I'm ready for my chicken alfredo! We wait about fifteen more minutes and the lights go down, the stage lights come on, my food arrives and shortly after 7 ladies filter through the tables and make their way onto the stage. They're dressed in bathrobes, carrying long pink purses. They all stand in what seems to be a circle and each one knows where they belong. With the strap of the purse over one wrist, they take the robes off and someone waiting on the corner of the stage is eagerly taking them.
Then the ladies reach into the purse and like a magic pocket, they pull out giant chrome vibrators. These puppies are huge monsters, minimum of 10" long and as big around as my forearm. Each lady slowly makes their way to the floor and they work themselves into a comfortable circle, with pillows being used to make sure each is comfortable.
As soon as I'm two bites into my chicken and pasta, each girl to the hilt into the girl in front of her. The sheer size of these things leads a normal person to believe the sheer and utter frantic sexual chaos going on is not something that could be easily faked. These ladies are jackhammering each other with the fury of a thousand exploding suns. There is no passion or enjoyment in this, its just a brutal, round robin of domination and unadulterated vagina destruction.
After what feels like a few minutes (I was assured by the guy at the door the show was at least 15 minutes), I was basically licking my plate like a hungry starving child like on the commercials with Sally Struthers and the ladies were all winding down. When the last one pulled out from the one front of her, I slammed my fork down on my plate and gave a standing ovation. I cheered. I cried. I was like a proud father seeing a graduation. I was so god damn high my brain was making the entire world a digital mess of pixels.
WE HAD FUCKERY TO GET INTO!
We stumbled out, now fat and happy and still very much in the clutches of the mighty mushrooms. We had 10 minutes to meet up with our friends, so we decided to stroll that general direction... or we hoped it was the right direction. I learned early on, there was two things you could always expect when strolling through Amsterdam. 1) A plethora of bikes with horns that you can beep while walking down the road 2) Cocaine dealers. I took advantage of enjoying both of them while I was there.
I had some bad habits. I needed help. INTERVENTION!
Hi, I'm Nacho and I love honking bike horns. It started as a child I would honk the horn my parents got me for my bike. Now I honk 10-15 bikes just between coffeeshops!
Fact was I did love honking horns. I also LOOOOOVED fucking with the cocaine dealers. They were usually all the same. VERY large African fellows in large trench coats. They were the guys you could hear in deep, low voices say "COoooOOOkkkkEEEEEEee!" that would echo through the streets.
These guys were always good sports. I just couldn't help myself. I know they could crush me, could wad me up and throw me in canal but they were always really nice.
Anytime they would say coke, I would respond with "DIET COKE!" or "PEPSI" or "FANTA".
They would give me a big friendly laugh, using their giant hands to pat me on the back, almost encompassing my entire back itself. They would say things like "Ha HA Little Man!" "OHH Hoo You're a clever one!" but no matter what they would say, they would always finish it up with "Soooo... do you want to buy some coke?"
No thanks lol
So my friend and I some how to actually get to where we all agreed upon and they were all Johnny on the spots. Being wacked out and revved up for whatever, I ask the boy what they had planned. They informed us that two of them planned to get prostitutes. The 3rd guy had gotten a prostitute the night before and was 3 euros away from the amount for another. While me and the 2 other guys talked, #3 bounced from door to door, looking to see if he could work out a deal of maybe a suck job or hand job for 47 euros. None of the girls seemed interested in negotiations but he was putting in a valiant effort.
As all 4 of us walked along, looking at the glass doors with the girls in their underwear on the other side, #1 slipped off and found him the girl of his dreams for the night. Shortly after, #2 did the same. #3 was still wondering around, now going to less attractive women in hopes they would be desperate for cash. While standing there, I notice an old man in a wheelchair being pushed by what I can only assume his grandson.
As the rest of the line shuffles along, Grandpa Wheelchair hits the brakes. A old weathered hand lifts up from the arm rest and he points at a door. Putting the brakes in the wheelchair, the young man secures the old man then walks up to the door and begins speaking with the person on the other side. As quickly as he put his head in, his head is back out and grandpa is getting wheeled in. This place is full service for sure.
Standing around, waiting for all my amigos to catch their STD of choice, I look at the ladies in my general area. Most women have the same glass door and limited difference in entrances. I look around and notice a couple with differences, including one girl whos door is on the second story and a grand stair case is literally leading up to the door. I look at the women behind the door and I realize quickly the reason.
The best way to quick describe her is a notch above Selma Hayek in From Dusk Til Dawn.
5'7"
Caramel tan
Big Hip
Big Chichis
Beautiful Face
Toned body
Seductively swaying her hips side to side, even without the mushrooms, I would have had serious trouble not staring like a creeper. She was stunning.
She slowly started curling her finger, inviting me up to her door. Now if you've read my previous Memory Lane post, you will know that I'm not the kinda guy who will pay for vagina, no matter how pretty the lady. With that said, if a insanely attractive lady desires to speak to me, well, it would be simply rude to not parley with the fine young lady. I make my way up the stairs, her hips slowly swaying with every step I take. I make it to the door and grab the handle, giving it a quick pull down as I push it foward. I lean my head in and say hello.
I'm greeted with a very friend smile and a "Hellloooo".... 3 octaves below my own adult male voice.
My mushroom riddled brain is having serious trouble taking all this in. Eyeballs are reporting that what we see in front of us is a stunning, amazing specimen of the female human. Any heterosexual male would make all efforts to copulate with this women as quickly and as often as humanly possible. Nose says it smells like a beautiful women, not coated in offensive perfumes but the lightest of sweetness, like a scent of honey suckle on a summer morning in the country. But ears... ears are reporting an error.
"Excuse me?" I said to... her.
"I said hello." sounding like my friend who's in the Hell's Angels.
I just slowly shut the door, turned around and walked back down the stairs. A few minutes later my friends came back, proud of the victories they've achieved for a measly 50 euros. I stood there, taking it all in as they shared battle stories between themselves. I listen to the stories of experiences I won't ever get to have.
"She told me, no matter the size, she will make me pop in 10 minutes or less or my money back. I set a timer on my phone and... holding up phone 8 minutes!" one of them announces proudly.
I was proud of them like a big brother. Good job guys.
I hope they got checked out by doctors.
