Day 1 / Part 2 /STILL November 18, 2009
The alarm rings way too soon. I forgot to change the sound of my alarm so it sounds like a text message…I am confused for a second as to where I am…I am the most relaxed I have ever been. Nothin’ like an afternoon delight filled with the animal lust that accompanies prolonged absences to result in a deep, restful sleep. There he is. Here we are! Yay! After a few wake-up kisses we talk each other out of just staying in bed…There are tokes to be toked and talks to be talked! Ambivalently we get out of bed (nice view…) and get dressed. A few things are unpacked (Spoon!) and we find ourselves descending the staircase and back out into the elements. It already looks like it’s getting dark…Basjoe appears in mere minutes. Once again we are going to step through that door and let the universe take over. Happy 4:20, everyone!!
Who is here? I recognize Alpha and FlyByNite; they are sitting with someone I’ve never met. James and Leo are in the back making drinks and rolling cones. Leo sees us for the first time and flashes his pearly whites giving Bong the manly fist-bump/man hug. Then I get my traditional 3 cheek-kisses and a hug. He remembers me too! (Have I said I love this place?!?) After the hugs and kisses, the stranger is introduced to me as The Guest. Our table is ready…fresh ashtray, flickering candle and a full sugar dispenser. Bong rolls a cone of Bas Special and takes out his jar of deep-green Spoon. His inner Rembrandt emerges as he expertly paints the tip of the cone.
Bong lights it and passes it to me. Suddenly, the room is filled with smoke as Christopher Amsterdam sparks up a cone with Dr. Grinspoon; a nicely rolled AK-47 cone from TAK is making its way around as well. The Toke and Talk is underway! We’re tokin’ and talkin’. With his sign-in sheet, FlyByNite finds out who is who and gets all of us (I think) to give him our autographs. The bong appears and is loaded time and again. Joints and bong hits are shared with StigmaticSaint, Alpha and The Guest. Soulrider shows up straight from work, dressed for work…(you look great btw!). The smoke out is underway! Greetings are exchanged…questions about the Spoon abound. Let’s see what I remember…<Bong, feel free to jump in and correct me>…Pure hash oil…made from Laughing Buddha…direct from Baltimore. Why “Spoon”? He’d use a spoon when making it and the oil would cover the spoon. He’d put the spoon directly into the freezer and the oil would get so cold it would snap off the spoon. So….he’d go to the freezer to get the “Spoon.” Thus…”Spoon.” As a Tick fan, I luv it…as Tick’s battle cry is “SPOON!” Fitting, I’d say… Before smoking it, Bong describes the effects with the table: “It’s the elevator that will take you to the floor you need to get off on.” Soulrider agrees, but insists he is persuaded to say so…
One by one people are being terminated. Watching the progression is fascinating…especially since my progression is on par with everyone else! Someone buys a Red Bull and the conversation turns towards liking it or hating it. “I *DON’T* need wings!” someone shouts…me either…
Hash is now being loaded into the bong. Hash. Yum…This time I know what it is: the legendary Basjoe Special Creamy Hash. I think this is what we smoked earlier today. Locked and loaded. The familiar sound of bubbling water and the swirling smoke filling the tube mesmerizes me. I watch as Bong fills the tube to its maximum, bursting with whiteness. Then he easily inhales the entire thing. Not even a tiny cough escapes him…wow. My turn. Not so graceful. I fill the tube to the best of my ability (you’d think I’d do better, given my apparent “lung capacity”). I take it in. The strangest sound I’ve ever produced emanates from my throat? Nose? Both? I immediately start to cough. Too much! But, hey…sometimes you gotta cough to get off! Bong just smiles and shakes his head….I put the bong down, instead of passing it. Partly because I am high and partly because I don’t know where it is to go…As hash will do, it is still burning in the bowl. This bugs me! So I take the bong and repeat the entire sequence! (Cough, cough!) As the bong is sitting in front of me, again…burning… again…Bong says, "Give me that smoldering cinder block of hell!” He grabs the bong and schools me. Makes no difference…I continue to cough after nearly every hit. I say I need to learn the ratio of the bong capacity to my lung capacity. Once I learn that, I can gauge it better…or so I tell myself! The bowl is shared and the hash finally gets smoked. NOT. Bong had just ordered us a couple of coffees (and a water for me) and apparently buys some of the Basjoe Special Creamy Hash! A piece is broken off and the mighty Bonglord goes to work. A nice, flat piece of hash is produced. Being the novice hash smoker I am, he tells me this is a good way to load it in the bong so it burns evenly. Ahhhh….makes sense to me! Bong loads the legendary chunk-turned-pancake of hash into the glass bowl. Once again, I am easily mesmerized…then…cough…cough…cough… easily stoned. Soulrider is “swayed” to do a bong hit. Smooooooth!!! Yay!! Everyone is happy….everyone is chatting….I am stoned…in Amsterdam!...I am in love…in Amsterdam!!! I love this vacation! And we just arrived this morning!!!!!
Just when I think I can’t get any higher, my water cup runneth over…with Liquid! It’s like doing a shot, but it’s not…brilliant! I remember the instant warmth from a shot of alcohol…this is instant happiness! My, oh my! Best description as of now: “The next thing you know, you’re singing ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ and eating Mentos.” Yeah. Something like THAT. After talking to probably everyone at least once (I tend to “gabble” when I’m really high, you know, gab and babble…all at once…), we are on a mission: One milkshake…two straws.
Barney’s Lounge. Great place: long entryway with mirrors on both sides, then the bar… JOY! There she is: dimple-faced, fist-pumpin’ Erin! She’s still here! Anyone who knows of whom I am speaking can attest to the fact that she’s, hands down, the happiest little pixie in Holland! Paul is here too! And Kharrum! They remember Bong by name and recognize me from last year. After re-introductions, we pick a table. The tables here have lighted tabletops with a bamboo-looking design. Two vaporizers are on either side of the room. I remove my layers of warmth and watch the goings-on at the bar. I see familiar smiles. Smiles I remember from last year. Yep…Bong has produced the Spoon! I knew it! Cone after cone is painted and shared. Here is where my note taking takes a turn for the stoned…I know what we are smoking, but I don’t note from whom it comes! B52 mixed with caramello cream, painted with Spoon comes my way. Crap! I take a regular-sized hit…COUGH…COUGH…ETC…ETC…but, mmmmm!!!!! My coughing is competing with the sound of the milkshake maker…I win! What do I get?? Yay!! A vanilla milkshake!!! Again….mmmmmmmmmmm!!!!! Next is Blue Cheese slathered in Spoon…careful! I take a much smaller hit and immediately think it’s too small, so I take that second little puff…Gsus! Tasty…cough….yum….cough! Ok…ok…I get it…smaller hits…I pass the cone off to Paul behind the bar. He immediately hands me the one he was smoking: G13 Haze, yes, with Spoon! I take it back to the table and take my small puff. Success! I take another one of the same size…just to equal up to the big hit, sans the coughing…Bong also shares a Red Diesel/tobacco mix…I can’t do tobacco…so I politely decline. I enjoy the rest of my milkshake and enjoy the conversation that bounces around like a pinball. “You’re the (pin)ball in the launcher,” Bong tells me… Whee!!
The clock is ticking on…we still have to walk back to the hotel. Layers are re-applied for maximum warmth. The door is opened and we walk. The night is beautiful.
The wind has lessened to bearable. All the sights from today are rewinding as we walk the same route as earlier today, only backwards. The once-full restaurants are now shut down, lights out, tables empty… The store windows are lit to showcase the things you will need for the arrival of Sinterklaas and Piet, the insides of the stores dark for the night.
We share the roads with drunk people on bicycles, expertly pedaling their way home after the bars close. Several canal-bridge kisses later, we arrive at the hotel. Nothing like ending a long walk with a climb to the summit of a hotel-mountain! (WHAT vanilla milkshake?!?) At least this time, we do not have luggage! A few steps after Bong, I arrive at the door of our room. The muscles in my thighs are doing that twitchy thing they do after a brutal workout…built-in exercise…choice! Time for bed….and a littlebitofthis…and a lotabitofthat…ahhh….now we sleep…a well-earned, much-deserved slumber.
“See you kids tomorrow…”
Thanks Luvtick.
