Goosey Joe wrote:I trip over I’mamofo’s half eaten waffle that is keeping the door open as we leave.
this had me in stitchesGoosey Joe, I'mamofo and Dole Trip Report 22nd - 27th
-
Pauli Wallnuts
- Posts: 2999
- Joined: Sat 28th Mar 2009 04:19 pm
- Location: South London
top, top reporting +
this had me in stitches
this had me in stitcheshttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXbNLkNh ... re=related" onclick="window.open(this.href);return false;
-
spidergawd
- Posts: 4420
- Joined: Sun 11th May 2008 09:21 pm
- Location: The Mars Hotel
thanx-
StonedSince67
- Posts: 1489
- Joined: Thu 10th Jul 2008 12:16 pm
- Location: Keep on Truckin'
enjoying the report with an early morning freshly brewed pot of coffee, a nice long read
also enjoying the different style of writing with the multiple, individual voices ... it's fun to hear about the same moment from more than just one point-of-view
thanks for the writing effort, i know it's a lot of work, but it is appreciated
also enjoying the different style of writing with the multiple, individual voices ... it's fun to hear about the same moment from more than just one point-of-view
thanks for the writing effort, i know it's a lot of work, but it is appreciated
-
puffpuffgive
- Posts: 763
- Joined: Sat 31st May 2008 09:21 pm
- Location: UK
majorly epic report, that was a great read! yep, the mako haze at dampkring was dusty and unappealing for me too..
ik hou van amsterdam
photography https://www.flickr.com/photos/bananaface1000/
photography https://www.flickr.com/photos/bananaface1000/
-
Goosey Joe
- Posts: 38
- Joined: Mon 26th Oct 2009 03:46 pm
- Location: W.Yorks, UK - Trips to A'dam - 5
- Contact:
Thanks for all the feedback guys, I'm glad to hear you are enjoying it.
Day 3 will be up first thing tomorrow. Rather annoyingly, pictures are getting thin on the ground, as are our notes so things are taking longer to remember and write down! That and all our parcels have come through, so Pink Kush keeps destracting me!
Day 3 will be up first thing tomorrow. Rather annoyingly, pictures are getting thin on the ground, as are our notes so things are taking longer to remember and write down! That and all our parcels have come through, so Pink Kush keeps destracting me!
www.joelayseggs.blogspot.com
retired blog.
retired blog.
-
Nice Dreams
- Posts: 99
- Joined: Fri 10th Oct 2008 11:00 am
that shit just made me laugh.....so I let the guys squeeze their way in whilst I huddle under a canopy with a new found friend of undisclosed eastern European origin. We share a joint and a few confused half sentences, his English is patchy at best and my undisclosed eastern European is non existent.
-
Goosey Joe
- Posts: 38
- Joined: Mon 26th Oct 2009 03:46 pm
- Location: W.Yorks, UK - Trips to A'dam - 5
- Contact:
Right guys, huge apologies for the delay in proceedings. This is entirely down to I'mamofo, who caught some kind of plague from his Daughter and has spent the last week entrenched in his bathroom...No excuse I reckon, but anyways, here is Day 3. We are blighted by a lack of pictures in this one, for reasons that will become apparent...
Day 3 – 24th November:
Goosey Joe: The morning Air Raid Siren wakes me up again at around 10am. Doles I-Phone has a lot to answer for. I hear I’mamofo cursing again from the other room. “Dole? That I-phone better have an App for removing itself from your arse, ‘cos it’s going to need one soon if you don’t turn it off!” I head off into the shower laughing my head off. Morning work done, I set about getting some bacon and eggs on the go whilst Dole makes the coffees.
Bacon in the oven – time to skin up. I head over to our stash and notice that it looks ridiculously depleted. To the point where Dole has ripped open one of the envelopes he was going to post to get at one of the 5g bags of Fantacheese in there. Praise the lord, we haven’t smoked as much as I was beginning to worry we had. I spot several half empty bags on the window sill that look like Kush and some chunks of hash on the table. I spot 2 baggies under my hat on the table, a gram of G-13 and a gram of Caramello. Spot on, morning bake! I decide to combine the two, hopefully they will dull the ringing in my ears the alarm clock has left me with. As always when I roll a joint with skunk and hash, I make sure that the last 2cm of the joint (at the thickest part) is skunk and tobacco with no hash. This isn’t just a personal trait, there is science behind it! I’ve always found that if you leave enough room with no hash, you can get the cherry burning nicely with the skunk (easier to do than with a hash joint) until it burns into the hash, by which point it will be burning smoothly etc and no need to faff around trying to get it burning evenly etc. With this in mind I take a few nice skunky tokes on the joint, which is a bit of a monster.
I enjoy the taste of the G-13 and the stone is fairly instant. Smoke is coming from the oven, I run through to the kitchen. I’mamofo is stood outside the bathroom in his boxers clutching a towel over his head and swaying gently. I hurriedly pass him the joint, usher him towards the toilet and grab the bacon out of the oven – only slightly burnt. Dole and I begin to discuss what to do for the day, deciding almost immediately that we are going to the Cup.
I’mamofo: For fucks sake that fucking phone! I make Dole aware that there’s a good chance that his I-phone is gonna become an ass-phone. He shouts back telling me there is coffee on the go and that if I’ve got a problem I should get out of bed to discuss it. His logic whilst annoying is unfailing. Besides I can smell burning bacon which means breakfast must be nearly ready. Grabbing my shit together I head for the bathroom to do all those unspeakable morning things which take place in there. On the way, Goosey comes lumbering towards me like a herd of stampeding bison, I’m like a rabbit caught in headlights, but rather than mow me down he hands me a joint, which I wave in celebration before heading for the toilet.
I sit myself down upon my throne and take an exploratory puff on the joint. My eyebrows beetle in concentration, ‘wait’ ‘what the fuck is this?!’ I try again, my lungs nearly burst as harsh, sandy, thick blue smoke escapes my shocked mouth. ‘huh?!’ one last try, maybe I’m imagining things. This time I take an extra long pull, just to be on the safe side. Of the many bad ideas I’ve had in my time this is about half way up the league table. I descend into a spluttering coughing fit as the coarse sandy fumes force their repellent tasting smoke down my throat. ‘Argggh!’ I scream as multiple boulders strike my bare thigh like a scene from Deep Impact. I lurch to my feet hideous joint still shoved between my lips and as I try to roar my disapproval at Goosey I take another involuntary inhalation of Satans’ joint. This morning has not started well.
Goosey Joe: Ok. Hands up. I rolled the most horrible joint of the trip. I know this, because after I’mamofo had come crashing naked through the toilet door, eyes watering to throw the joint at the unsuspecting Dole before stomping back into his pit, Dole had coughed his way through 2 or 3 drags and both him and I’mamofo stood over me until I finished the whole joint – as punishment. My God it was foul. The Caramello and G-13 together have created a joint that tastes of molten lava. My lungs and throat are burning in agony. Burnt bacon sandwiches and coffee hold little relief. Cleaning my teeth rigorously does nothing to remove the taste from my mouth. Even now, more than a week later as I write this, I am getting cold shivers thinking about the damage that joint did to me. I can’t say that it did the trick and got me stoned, because the pain was greater than the sum of the parts. Luckily for me, I spent the majority of the day taking a shit load of pointless Vapo hits, with the occasional joint because that would have been all my lungs could handle.
We spend half an hour pre rolling several joints to take to the expo, before heading out into the rain in the direction of the train station. I see an interesting sign on the way, pointing it out to I’mamofo so he can take a picture. He admits that the last two days of carrying the camera around have left him a nervous, paranoid wreck (his Mrs has let him take the camera on pain of death if it is damaged) and that he can’t take it anymore. Therefore we have literally NO photos of the expo L
I’mamofo: Goosey is in pain. The type of pain I can get on board with. Every now and then he shoots us big puppy eyes through the cloud of noxious fumes. ‘Smoke it Goosey Caramello, smoke it!’ The name sticks, for the next five days he gets to masquerade as a Sopranos walk on character ‘Hey is that Goosey Caramello over there?’ His real name actually works better here, but he’s scared if he reveals it to you all the FBI will get him. The guys tell me what we’re about today, and we roll up the leftovers from last night to see us through the expo. Goosey wants me to start taking photos of signs and stuff, I try to fob him off, but am eventually forced to admit to the lads that our lass has threatened me with unspeakable horrors should any ill befall the camera. As I believe I have all ready pointed out, bravery is not my strong suit. I take a picture on my camera phone to show the guys I’m still on board in an attempt to appease them. It doesn’t. The next ten minutes are filled with questions about my sexuality, parentage and indeed even my gender is bought into question. I feel this is a little harsh considering they burnt my fucking bacon this morning.
Goosey Joe: A quick stop in Stones Café for 3 bits of Space Cake and then down to Central. We are met in the train station information department by 2 blokes in pink hats who appeared to hate their job, but were very helpful none the less. Dole tells them we want 3 returns to the Cup. They look at us blankly. I try a different tact, pointing at our map. Again, blank looks. I’mamofo puts a joint in his mouth, pretend toking and says the word “Cup” loudly. Again, nothing. Dole recalls something the Bud Tender at Stones had said and tries a new tactic “Power Zone?” Their faces light up in understanding, “Ahh yes, Spaklerweg” We nod clueless and are handed 3 tickets.
I’mamofo heads off through the barriers whilst me and Dole thank the guys. I go through next, sliding my card through the machine and strolling through. Dole steps up and puts his ticket in and walks head first into the firmly closed doors. He retreats, just as the machine spits his ticket out. He tries again, same thing. He tries the next booth, same result. As he heads back towards the Ticket guys, I turn to see I’mamofo gesticulating wildly at a Conductor on the platform. I’m torn between making sure Dole gets through ok and rescuing the conductor from whatever trauma I’mamofo is putting him through. Dole gets given a new ticket, which doesn’t work and in the end settles for quickly nipping through the gates as someone else puts their card in. This led to some strange looks from the middle aged woman whose booth he had picked, as he basically piggybacked on her through the turnstile. As we walk through, I’mamofo is still in an animated conversation with the conductor.
I’mamofo: This train station is like non I’ve ever seen before, for a start there seem to be helpful train folk around, secondly there appear to be trains here too, not just normal trains. Trains that are on time! The ticket machines were a dead loss, even when we changed the language to English. I quickly find some ticket fellas and whilst the other two make out like tourists, I wave a big fat joint at them and they seem to get the message. They hand us some tickets with the word Spaklerweg printed on it. That’ll do. Flushed with this success I trot through the gates and up to the platform, there’s another one of them train folk here, so quickly glancing down at my ticket for confirmation I tap him on the shoulder,
“Spaklerweg?” I ask, raising my eyebrows in the internationally recognised symbol of where do I go?
“Spaklerweg sir?” He repeats. I nod and say it again, “yes that’s right mate, Spaklerweg” he turns away from me, which I think means he wants to end this conversation. I don’t,
“Cooooeee. Spaklerweg issssss?” he frowns and tells me,
“you catch any train sir.”
“No I bloody won’t catch any train fella I want the one that goes to Spaklerweg,” I knew the Dutch were laid back but the idea of just leaping onto any old train does not appeal to me.
“All trains go to Spaklerweg sir.” He tells me. A clear look of disdain in his eyes.
“oh is that bloody so?”
“yes it bloody is” at this point I should have probably realised that this conversation was going downhill. I didn’t.
“ok, what about the train in Spaklerweg, eh? What about that eh?” “what about it” I notice that he has dispensed with the sir at this point, “does the train in Spaklerweg go to Spaklerweg,?” he looks confused,
“but..why?”
“I’m trying to prove to you that not all trains go to bloody Spaklerweg mate!”
“They do.”
“They bloody don’t! Not all trains in Holland go through bloody Spaklerweg!”
“Most do” he mutters,
“ah-ha! So you concede..” I cry triumphantly but before I can revel in my victory I am roughly manhandled by the lads onto a weird double Decker train. "woah lads woah, how do you know it’s the right train?”, Goosey and Dole look at each other and answer together
“All trains go to Spaklerweg” Twats.
Goosey Joe: Debacle over, we settle into the trip, which doesn’t take too long. After a 10 minute walk we rock up at the Cup and smoke a quick joint outside before going in. Roughly 7 seconds after entering we lose Dole and only see him in fits and spurts for the next 4 or 5 hours. He has found his promised land and is equally at home talking genetics with the science / seed stands as he is being filmed by MTV taking a mammoth 10 foot Vapo bag of Super Lemon Haze in one hit. He flits from stand to stand taking Vape after Vape, receiving free samples and filling his satchel with paraphernalia. Myself and I’mamofo aren’t as forward. I am deeply stoned from the space cake and pre expo joints and am engaged in trying to avoid talking to people whilst at the same time trying not to look like a gormless tourist.
Not having Dole’s foresight I have neglected to bring a bag in which to store all the free goodies I am getting, so I have laden I’mamofo up like some kind of Drugs mule.
A ROOR stand catches my eye and I wander over. The dude spots me and we start talking. He is amazed I don’t own a ROOR, and surprisingly he agrees with my view on Vapo’s. (I can’t stand them and find them pointless). I ask him what his favourite skunk so far has been and he says he just can’t get enough of the Silver Pearl from HGF. I smile triumphantly and flourish a fat Silver Pearl number that I have prerolled at him. He likes the fact I have written on the roach to remind myself what it is. We share the joint and he then winks at me and produces a baggie full of what looks like fake plastic poo. He says “My brother works on the Bubble Stand and this is some of their newer, experimental stuff” Or something along those lines. He uses the end of a match to scrape a fairly large blob on top of some skunk in a bowl and offers me a huge ROOR. Quick as a flash, Dole and I’mamofo appear on the scene. “Careful” He says, “This is strong stuff, you wont need a big h..” Before he can finish I have filled the entire tube and taken a HUGE hit. I hear several gasps, mainly from the ROOR guy and his buddies. It kicks me in the balls, lungs, face and brain at the same time and leaves me clutching blindly for air, stumbling towards a seat. As I begin to come round, I’mamofo joins me, sucking up air with tears streaming down his face. I look up at the ROOR guy who is all smiles and laugh. My head now feels like it is being cuddled by an invisible force. I can do nothing but laugh inanely at I’mamofo and gibber incoherently.
I’mamofo: Some bandit has just had my pants down. I’m frowning at the rather officious looking fellow who has my 30 euros in his bumbag, in return he has handed me a magazine. Which I haven’t even bothered to look at. No point. I know its’ not worth 30 fucking euros. My mouth is incredibly dry from the space cake and will remain so for approx another 2 hours (this how long it takes for me to get stoned enough to hand over another 2.50 to the robbing bastards.) Dole is like a kid in a candy shop, and disappears into a crowd surrounding some vape dude. I’m blatantly not in a candy shop. I’m in a big old warehouse done out with stands and stalls. I dutifully push myself to the front of one of the crowds and listen to the nice American chappy tell me how cool Vapes are. To prove his point he starts handing out lungfuls to the surrounding mob, I take a hit still mightily unimpressed. I’m wondering where the lads are and start to aimlessly stroll in circles around the place in search of them, I’m brought up short in my tracks, by Goosey. I see him, but he is yet to clap eyes on me, which is surprising cos Goosey it seems has gone all SAS, Commando on me. He’s eyes dart from side to side as he scans the crowd for a familiar face, he shuffles surreptitiously to one side and takes a sneaky drag of joint which he’s concealing in his sleeve for some unknown unholy reason. I take another drag of my joint as I sit back to enjoy the show. And he’s off!!, Goosey for the record is Not the type of guy who was built with sneaking in mind, but that’s not stopping him from cartoon tiptoeing in an outlandish manner across the expo floor, he barges through couples, stumbles into stalls and walks right by me in his desperate flight. SAS my ass. My eyes scan the crowd looking for the source of his discomfort.
SHIT! Camera Crew. I don’t know why but I immediately know they’re what Goosey is fleeing from and for some reason that dread has transferred itself over to me. I cartoon tiptoe to his side and demand we leave the immediate area right bloody now! Within seconds we are ensconced in a tenty chill out area where a TV is pumping out some tripe. It takes a while for me to realise that the tripe is being broadcast from somewhere in this very warehouse.
Goosey Joe: Completely smashed, I begin to take stock of my surroundings. Everything feels too commercial, too forced. It begins to feel like propaganda and indoctrination. From everywhere you are assailed by the sight and sound of weed and hemp and marijuana. A big screen plays an interview being recorded elsewhere in the building, I believe with Jack Herrers’ daughter? She introduces a band; the next Cypress Hill, who are apparently huge activists and recommended by Jack. Las Marijuanos.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8Zpnv8QhVc
They look massively uncomfortable on the stage. The music starts and can barely be heard over their ‘rapping’. They look embarrassed and cry repeatedly for the music to be turned up. It is duly turned up. To the point where they can no longer be heard and all their mic’s do is give off a huge wall of feedback which not only deafens the crowd, but also them as clearly the monitors aren’t set up right. One of them leaves for a hasty consultation with the sound guys whilst the other two talk about how well they know Jack and why weed should be legal. No offence to my American Cousins here but these guys were about as lucid and convincing as Clinton was when he ‘did not have sexual relations with that woman”. No wonder the legalisation campaign struggles when these people are considered the acceptable face of said campaign. They were ignorant clowns. Number 3 comes back, sans microphone and they begin to mime over a track. Which looks hilarious as there are 3 of them and 2 mics. The chap without the mic goes as far as to actually mime into his fist when it is his parts. MTV are appalled and go off to film something else midway through. This was the highlight of the day for me!
I’mamofo: Once we are sure the road is clear and that we are not about to be ambushed by rouge MTV reporters intent on making us look like dicks in front of the youth of the world, we rather sheepishly begin to look for Dole. Who is inhaling a bag the size of Godzillas’ cock in front of the MTV camera crew, whilst being yelled on by the accompanying over enthusiastic reporter. This leaves me and Goosey in a dilemma. Do we save our friend or leave him to his fate? Our plan of attack is interrupted as the big screen blares into life and some overloud chubster starts rattling on about something that I decided was irrelevant considering Doles predicament, which he never really understood to be a predicament in the sense that Goosey and I thought it was, since he volunteered for the whole process and was rather excited about being on TV in the 1st place.
The warehouse is flooded with noise, which I immediately assume is Doles mid-afternoon I-phone alarm reminder call reminding him to set the alarm for the morning. Its not. It’s the chubster and some of his mates. Yelling incoherently at us, Goosey and I stand mesmerised by these shenanigans for ages. I pretend to start humming along. At one point I’m sure the fellow compared themselves to Cypress Hill and even Jimmy Hendrix! Laugh? I nearly pissed myself. As we head for the exit Goosey stares admiringly into Doles satchel, clearly impressed with his horde of freebies, I see him nod to Dole and hear him confidently state “Yeah I got loads too I’mamofo has been saving it all for me.” He turns to me and I proudly hand him the 5 flyers that actually fit into my back pocket. He scowls darkly. One has been used for roach.
Our haul was noticably crap compared to Dole's, who came away with a lifetimes supply of roach books, papers, grinders, bong filters, free seeds and enough paraphanalia to warrant a replant of a rainforest. Note the broken neck cord and the same 4 leaflets from the ROOR stand...
Goosey Joe: The day has gone by in a blur and once we get home, we have a few smokes and hit the hay. What little stash we have left isn’t massively tempting, so we decide to have a relatively early night and get back at it the following day.
There were next to no purchases this day, apart from some space cake, 3g of Westside from Stones, 3g of FantaCheese (HGF) 3g of Silverpearl and a couple of miscellaneous pre-rolled.
Day 3 – 24th November:
Goosey Joe: The morning Air Raid Siren wakes me up again at around 10am. Doles I-Phone has a lot to answer for. I hear I’mamofo cursing again from the other room. “Dole? That I-phone better have an App for removing itself from your arse, ‘cos it’s going to need one soon if you don’t turn it off!” I head off into the shower laughing my head off. Morning work done, I set about getting some bacon and eggs on the go whilst Dole makes the coffees.
Bacon in the oven – time to skin up. I head over to our stash and notice that it looks ridiculously depleted. To the point where Dole has ripped open one of the envelopes he was going to post to get at one of the 5g bags of Fantacheese in there. Praise the lord, we haven’t smoked as much as I was beginning to worry we had. I spot several half empty bags on the window sill that look like Kush and some chunks of hash on the table. I spot 2 baggies under my hat on the table, a gram of G-13 and a gram of Caramello. Spot on, morning bake! I decide to combine the two, hopefully they will dull the ringing in my ears the alarm clock has left me with. As always when I roll a joint with skunk and hash, I make sure that the last 2cm of the joint (at the thickest part) is skunk and tobacco with no hash. This isn’t just a personal trait, there is science behind it! I’ve always found that if you leave enough room with no hash, you can get the cherry burning nicely with the skunk (easier to do than with a hash joint) until it burns into the hash, by which point it will be burning smoothly etc and no need to faff around trying to get it burning evenly etc. With this in mind I take a few nice skunky tokes on the joint, which is a bit of a monster.
I enjoy the taste of the G-13 and the stone is fairly instant. Smoke is coming from the oven, I run through to the kitchen. I’mamofo is stood outside the bathroom in his boxers clutching a towel over his head and swaying gently. I hurriedly pass him the joint, usher him towards the toilet and grab the bacon out of the oven – only slightly burnt. Dole and I begin to discuss what to do for the day, deciding almost immediately that we are going to the Cup.
I’mamofo: For fucks sake that fucking phone! I make Dole aware that there’s a good chance that his I-phone is gonna become an ass-phone. He shouts back telling me there is coffee on the go and that if I’ve got a problem I should get out of bed to discuss it. His logic whilst annoying is unfailing. Besides I can smell burning bacon which means breakfast must be nearly ready. Grabbing my shit together I head for the bathroom to do all those unspeakable morning things which take place in there. On the way, Goosey comes lumbering towards me like a herd of stampeding bison, I’m like a rabbit caught in headlights, but rather than mow me down he hands me a joint, which I wave in celebration before heading for the toilet.
I sit myself down upon my throne and take an exploratory puff on the joint. My eyebrows beetle in concentration, ‘wait’ ‘what the fuck is this?!’ I try again, my lungs nearly burst as harsh, sandy, thick blue smoke escapes my shocked mouth. ‘huh?!’ one last try, maybe I’m imagining things. This time I take an extra long pull, just to be on the safe side. Of the many bad ideas I’ve had in my time this is about half way up the league table. I descend into a spluttering coughing fit as the coarse sandy fumes force their repellent tasting smoke down my throat. ‘Argggh!’ I scream as multiple boulders strike my bare thigh like a scene from Deep Impact. I lurch to my feet hideous joint still shoved between my lips and as I try to roar my disapproval at Goosey I take another involuntary inhalation of Satans’ joint. This morning has not started well.
Goosey Joe: Ok. Hands up. I rolled the most horrible joint of the trip. I know this, because after I’mamofo had come crashing naked through the toilet door, eyes watering to throw the joint at the unsuspecting Dole before stomping back into his pit, Dole had coughed his way through 2 or 3 drags and both him and I’mamofo stood over me until I finished the whole joint – as punishment. My God it was foul. The Caramello and G-13 together have created a joint that tastes of molten lava. My lungs and throat are burning in agony. Burnt bacon sandwiches and coffee hold little relief. Cleaning my teeth rigorously does nothing to remove the taste from my mouth. Even now, more than a week later as I write this, I am getting cold shivers thinking about the damage that joint did to me. I can’t say that it did the trick and got me stoned, because the pain was greater than the sum of the parts. Luckily for me, I spent the majority of the day taking a shit load of pointless Vapo hits, with the occasional joint because that would have been all my lungs could handle.
We spend half an hour pre rolling several joints to take to the expo, before heading out into the rain in the direction of the train station. I see an interesting sign on the way, pointing it out to I’mamofo so he can take a picture. He admits that the last two days of carrying the camera around have left him a nervous, paranoid wreck (his Mrs has let him take the camera on pain of death if it is damaged) and that he can’t take it anymore. Therefore we have literally NO photos of the expo L
I’mamofo: Goosey is in pain. The type of pain I can get on board with. Every now and then he shoots us big puppy eyes through the cloud of noxious fumes. ‘Smoke it Goosey Caramello, smoke it!’ The name sticks, for the next five days he gets to masquerade as a Sopranos walk on character ‘Hey is that Goosey Caramello over there?’ His real name actually works better here, but he’s scared if he reveals it to you all the FBI will get him. The guys tell me what we’re about today, and we roll up the leftovers from last night to see us through the expo. Goosey wants me to start taking photos of signs and stuff, I try to fob him off, but am eventually forced to admit to the lads that our lass has threatened me with unspeakable horrors should any ill befall the camera. As I believe I have all ready pointed out, bravery is not my strong suit. I take a picture on my camera phone to show the guys I’m still on board in an attempt to appease them. It doesn’t. The next ten minutes are filled with questions about my sexuality, parentage and indeed even my gender is bought into question. I feel this is a little harsh considering they burnt my fucking bacon this morning.
Goosey Joe: A quick stop in Stones Café for 3 bits of Space Cake and then down to Central. We are met in the train station information department by 2 blokes in pink hats who appeared to hate their job, but were very helpful none the less. Dole tells them we want 3 returns to the Cup. They look at us blankly. I try a different tact, pointing at our map. Again, blank looks. I’mamofo puts a joint in his mouth, pretend toking and says the word “Cup” loudly. Again, nothing. Dole recalls something the Bud Tender at Stones had said and tries a new tactic “Power Zone?” Their faces light up in understanding, “Ahh yes, Spaklerweg” We nod clueless and are handed 3 tickets.
I’mamofo heads off through the barriers whilst me and Dole thank the guys. I go through next, sliding my card through the machine and strolling through. Dole steps up and puts his ticket in and walks head first into the firmly closed doors. He retreats, just as the machine spits his ticket out. He tries again, same thing. He tries the next booth, same result. As he heads back towards the Ticket guys, I turn to see I’mamofo gesticulating wildly at a Conductor on the platform. I’m torn between making sure Dole gets through ok and rescuing the conductor from whatever trauma I’mamofo is putting him through. Dole gets given a new ticket, which doesn’t work and in the end settles for quickly nipping through the gates as someone else puts their card in. This led to some strange looks from the middle aged woman whose booth he had picked, as he basically piggybacked on her through the turnstile. As we walk through, I’mamofo is still in an animated conversation with the conductor.
I’mamofo: This train station is like non I’ve ever seen before, for a start there seem to be helpful train folk around, secondly there appear to be trains here too, not just normal trains. Trains that are on time! The ticket machines were a dead loss, even when we changed the language to English. I quickly find some ticket fellas and whilst the other two make out like tourists, I wave a big fat joint at them and they seem to get the message. They hand us some tickets with the word Spaklerweg printed on it. That’ll do. Flushed with this success I trot through the gates and up to the platform, there’s another one of them train folk here, so quickly glancing down at my ticket for confirmation I tap him on the shoulder,
“Spaklerweg?” I ask, raising my eyebrows in the internationally recognised symbol of where do I go?
“Spaklerweg sir?” He repeats. I nod and say it again, “yes that’s right mate, Spaklerweg” he turns away from me, which I think means he wants to end this conversation. I don’t,
“Cooooeee. Spaklerweg issssss?” he frowns and tells me,
“you catch any train sir.”
“No I bloody won’t catch any train fella I want the one that goes to Spaklerweg,” I knew the Dutch were laid back but the idea of just leaping onto any old train does not appeal to me.
“All trains go to Spaklerweg sir.” He tells me. A clear look of disdain in his eyes.
“oh is that bloody so?”
“yes it bloody is” at this point I should have probably realised that this conversation was going downhill. I didn’t.
“ok, what about the train in Spaklerweg, eh? What about that eh?” “what about it” I notice that he has dispensed with the sir at this point, “does the train in Spaklerweg go to Spaklerweg,?” he looks confused,
“but..why?”
“I’m trying to prove to you that not all trains go to bloody Spaklerweg mate!”
“They do.”
“They bloody don’t! Not all trains in Holland go through bloody Spaklerweg!”
“Most do” he mutters,
“ah-ha! So you concede..” I cry triumphantly but before I can revel in my victory I am roughly manhandled by the lads onto a weird double Decker train. "woah lads woah, how do you know it’s the right train?”, Goosey and Dole look at each other and answer together
“All trains go to Spaklerweg” Twats.
Goosey Joe: Debacle over, we settle into the trip, which doesn’t take too long. After a 10 minute walk we rock up at the Cup and smoke a quick joint outside before going in. Roughly 7 seconds after entering we lose Dole and only see him in fits and spurts for the next 4 or 5 hours. He has found his promised land and is equally at home talking genetics with the science / seed stands as he is being filmed by MTV taking a mammoth 10 foot Vapo bag of Super Lemon Haze in one hit. He flits from stand to stand taking Vape after Vape, receiving free samples and filling his satchel with paraphernalia. Myself and I’mamofo aren’t as forward. I am deeply stoned from the space cake and pre expo joints and am engaged in trying to avoid talking to people whilst at the same time trying not to look like a gormless tourist.
Not having Dole’s foresight I have neglected to bring a bag in which to store all the free goodies I am getting, so I have laden I’mamofo up like some kind of Drugs mule.
A ROOR stand catches my eye and I wander over. The dude spots me and we start talking. He is amazed I don’t own a ROOR, and surprisingly he agrees with my view on Vapo’s. (I can’t stand them and find them pointless). I ask him what his favourite skunk so far has been and he says he just can’t get enough of the Silver Pearl from HGF. I smile triumphantly and flourish a fat Silver Pearl number that I have prerolled at him. He likes the fact I have written on the roach to remind myself what it is. We share the joint and he then winks at me and produces a baggie full of what looks like fake plastic poo. He says “My brother works on the Bubble Stand and this is some of their newer, experimental stuff” Or something along those lines. He uses the end of a match to scrape a fairly large blob on top of some skunk in a bowl and offers me a huge ROOR. Quick as a flash, Dole and I’mamofo appear on the scene. “Careful” He says, “This is strong stuff, you wont need a big h..” Before he can finish I have filled the entire tube and taken a HUGE hit. I hear several gasps, mainly from the ROOR guy and his buddies. It kicks me in the balls, lungs, face and brain at the same time and leaves me clutching blindly for air, stumbling towards a seat. As I begin to come round, I’mamofo joins me, sucking up air with tears streaming down his face. I look up at the ROOR guy who is all smiles and laugh. My head now feels like it is being cuddled by an invisible force. I can do nothing but laugh inanely at I’mamofo and gibber incoherently.
I’mamofo: Some bandit has just had my pants down. I’m frowning at the rather officious looking fellow who has my 30 euros in his bumbag, in return he has handed me a magazine. Which I haven’t even bothered to look at. No point. I know its’ not worth 30 fucking euros. My mouth is incredibly dry from the space cake and will remain so for approx another 2 hours (this how long it takes for me to get stoned enough to hand over another 2.50 to the robbing bastards.) Dole is like a kid in a candy shop, and disappears into a crowd surrounding some vape dude. I’m blatantly not in a candy shop. I’m in a big old warehouse done out with stands and stalls. I dutifully push myself to the front of one of the crowds and listen to the nice American chappy tell me how cool Vapes are. To prove his point he starts handing out lungfuls to the surrounding mob, I take a hit still mightily unimpressed. I’m wondering where the lads are and start to aimlessly stroll in circles around the place in search of them, I’m brought up short in my tracks, by Goosey. I see him, but he is yet to clap eyes on me, which is surprising cos Goosey it seems has gone all SAS, Commando on me. He’s eyes dart from side to side as he scans the crowd for a familiar face, he shuffles surreptitiously to one side and takes a sneaky drag of joint which he’s concealing in his sleeve for some unknown unholy reason. I take another drag of my joint as I sit back to enjoy the show. And he’s off!!, Goosey for the record is Not the type of guy who was built with sneaking in mind, but that’s not stopping him from cartoon tiptoeing in an outlandish manner across the expo floor, he barges through couples, stumbles into stalls and walks right by me in his desperate flight. SAS my ass. My eyes scan the crowd looking for the source of his discomfort.
SHIT! Camera Crew. I don’t know why but I immediately know they’re what Goosey is fleeing from and for some reason that dread has transferred itself over to me. I cartoon tiptoe to his side and demand we leave the immediate area right bloody now! Within seconds we are ensconced in a tenty chill out area where a TV is pumping out some tripe. It takes a while for me to realise that the tripe is being broadcast from somewhere in this very warehouse.
Goosey Joe: Completely smashed, I begin to take stock of my surroundings. Everything feels too commercial, too forced. It begins to feel like propaganda and indoctrination. From everywhere you are assailed by the sight and sound of weed and hemp and marijuana. A big screen plays an interview being recorded elsewhere in the building, I believe with Jack Herrers’ daughter? She introduces a band; the next Cypress Hill, who are apparently huge activists and recommended by Jack. Las Marijuanos.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8Zpnv8QhVc
They look massively uncomfortable on the stage. The music starts and can barely be heard over their ‘rapping’. They look embarrassed and cry repeatedly for the music to be turned up. It is duly turned up. To the point where they can no longer be heard and all their mic’s do is give off a huge wall of feedback which not only deafens the crowd, but also them as clearly the monitors aren’t set up right. One of them leaves for a hasty consultation with the sound guys whilst the other two talk about how well they know Jack and why weed should be legal. No offence to my American Cousins here but these guys were about as lucid and convincing as Clinton was when he ‘did not have sexual relations with that woman”. No wonder the legalisation campaign struggles when these people are considered the acceptable face of said campaign. They were ignorant clowns. Number 3 comes back, sans microphone and they begin to mime over a track. Which looks hilarious as there are 3 of them and 2 mics. The chap without the mic goes as far as to actually mime into his fist when it is his parts. MTV are appalled and go off to film something else midway through. This was the highlight of the day for me!
I’mamofo: Once we are sure the road is clear and that we are not about to be ambushed by rouge MTV reporters intent on making us look like dicks in front of the youth of the world, we rather sheepishly begin to look for Dole. Who is inhaling a bag the size of Godzillas’ cock in front of the MTV camera crew, whilst being yelled on by the accompanying over enthusiastic reporter. This leaves me and Goosey in a dilemma. Do we save our friend or leave him to his fate? Our plan of attack is interrupted as the big screen blares into life and some overloud chubster starts rattling on about something that I decided was irrelevant considering Doles predicament, which he never really understood to be a predicament in the sense that Goosey and I thought it was, since he volunteered for the whole process and was rather excited about being on TV in the 1st place.
The warehouse is flooded with noise, which I immediately assume is Doles mid-afternoon I-phone alarm reminder call reminding him to set the alarm for the morning. Its not. It’s the chubster and some of his mates. Yelling incoherently at us, Goosey and I stand mesmerised by these shenanigans for ages. I pretend to start humming along. At one point I’m sure the fellow compared themselves to Cypress Hill and even Jimmy Hendrix! Laugh? I nearly pissed myself. As we head for the exit Goosey stares admiringly into Doles satchel, clearly impressed with his horde of freebies, I see him nod to Dole and hear him confidently state “Yeah I got loads too I’mamofo has been saving it all for me.” He turns to me and I proudly hand him the 5 flyers that actually fit into my back pocket. He scowls darkly. One has been used for roach.
Our haul was noticably crap compared to Dole's, who came away with a lifetimes supply of roach books, papers, grinders, bong filters, free seeds and enough paraphanalia to warrant a replant of a rainforest. Note the broken neck cord and the same 4 leaflets from the ROOR stand...
Goosey Joe: The day has gone by in a blur and once we get home, we have a few smokes and hit the hay. What little stash we have left isn’t massively tempting, so we decide to have a relatively early night and get back at it the following day.
There were next to no purchases this day, apart from some space cake, 3g of Westside from Stones, 3g of FantaCheese (HGF) 3g of Silverpearl and a couple of miscellaneous pre-rolled.
Last edited by Goosey Joe on Tue 15th Dec 2009 04:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
www.joelayseggs.blogspot.com
retired blog.
retired blog.