luvtick wrote: Can't wait to start writing! So, yes, NIZZLE and cisco, there very well will be an installment up by Sunday...........
BA - 3D
Travel Day
This year’s trip to the airport is as eventful as being dropped off at the international terminal and having to walk over to the domestic terminal. It takes me all of 5 minutes or less to get there. My bag has 2 pounds to spare without being overweight. The flight to Detroit is on time. Too bad about the arrival time: 4:20 pm. Damn…and me with nothing to smoke. I will most definitely have to make up for this abomination! (…and I’m going to exactly the right place to do it!)
At least I made do with a round of bong hits, joints and my version of “space breakfast” (oatmeal with a kick) before leaving. Having everything ready in advance has its advantages! Now all I have to do is wait for Bong’s plane to arrive. Three hours. Damn. Luckily DTW is a pretty cool airport in which to walk around. I spend some time in the Motown store, look inside the Henry Ford Museum store, eat a giant salad for dinner at Chili’s and still have to wait….argh…
I did bring a little (did I mention little) black dress to wear on the flight…you never get a second chance to make a first impression, you know. I know how this dress looks (ooo la la) and I’m a bit nervous to wear it. To waste even more time, I talk on the phone with Bluelaru who convinces me to “shake the sand out” and wear it! She is right, so off to the bathroom to change. Now I go from yoga pants and gym shoes to micro mini dress and heels. I wear a path in the terminal walking back and forth to the Arrivals board to see if his flight has landed. Eventually--JOY!! It has!!!! I wait at our gate for him. Gazing down the moving sidewalk, past the McDonald’s and the bathrooms, I see him. He doesn’t see me yet. Ultimately our eyes lock on each other…and I struggle to keep myself from running to him. My bags cannot be left unattended AND I am wearing heels. So much like a spider, I stand there and imagine myself luring him into my web of seduction. It’s working. Here he comes. After what seems like an eternity, our lips finally lock, our arms entwine and the six-month cross-country separation is dissolved as I melt into my lover’s embrace, like spoon melting down the side of a nicely rolled cone.
When the waiting is full, we board the aircraft. Yay! Pillows and blankets! Undercover activities are possible…probable…actual… “Food” is picked over and discarded, movies are watched, catnaps grabbed and eventually the plane descends through the clouds and the wheels touch down at Schiphol! The flight attendant comes on the intercom, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Amsterdam…”
This year’s trip to the airport is as eventful as being dropped off at the international terminal and having to walk over to the domestic terminal. It takes me all of 5 minutes or less to get there. My bag has 2 pounds to spare without being overweight. The flight to Detroit is on time. Too bad about the arrival time: 4:20 pm. Damn…and me with nothing to smoke. I will most definitely have to make up for this abomination! (…and I’m going to exactly the right place to do it!)
At least I made do with a round of bong hits, joints and my version of “space breakfast” (oatmeal with a kick) before leaving. Having everything ready in advance has its advantages! Now all I have to do is wait for Bong’s plane to arrive. Three hours. Damn. Luckily DTW is a pretty cool airport in which to walk around. I spend some time in the Motown store, look inside the Henry Ford Museum store, eat a giant salad for dinner at Chili’s and still have to wait….argh…I did bring a little (did I mention little) black dress to wear on the flight…you never get a second chance to make a first impression, you know. I know how this dress looks (ooo la la) and I’m a bit nervous to wear it. To waste even more time, I talk on the phone with Bluelaru who convinces me to “shake the sand out” and wear it! She is right, so off to the bathroom to change. Now I go from yoga pants and gym shoes to micro mini dress and heels. I wear a path in the terminal walking back and forth to the Arrivals board to see if his flight has landed. Eventually--JOY!! It has!!!! I wait at our gate for him. Gazing down the moving sidewalk, past the McDonald’s and the bathrooms, I see him. He doesn’t see me yet. Ultimately our eyes lock on each other…and I struggle to keep myself from running to him. My bags cannot be left unattended AND I am wearing heels. So much like a spider, I stand there and imagine myself luring him into my web of seduction. It’s working. Here he comes. After what seems like an eternity, our lips finally lock, our arms entwine and the six-month cross-country separation is dissolved as I melt into my lover’s embrace, like spoon melting down the side of a nicely rolled cone.
When the waiting is full, we board the aircraft. Yay! Pillows and blankets! Undercover activities are possible…probable…actual… “Food” is picked over and discarded, movies are watched, catnaps grabbed and eventually the plane descends through the clouds and the wheels touch down at Schiphol! The flight attendant comes on the intercom, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Amsterdam…”
Last edited by luvtick on Mon 14th Feb 2011 10:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Stoner chicks RULE
-
StonedSince67
- Posts: 1489
- Joined: Thu 10th Jul 2008 12:16 pm
- Location: Keep on Truckin'
Hell yeah! Sounds like a delight! Funnily enough when i googled canola oil production a news flash came up from literally 2 minutes ago. As we post there's a 700 ft cargo ship adrift in the bearing sea containing nothing but canola oil...luvtick wrote:i make my own oil...only mine is canola oil...to eat...
oatmeal, maple syrup, brown sugar, and a bit of green oil...then milk...mmm....tasty....
love the descriptive way you write LT -
USbongLord
- Posts: 6704
- Joined: Tue 19th Sep 2006 07:47 pm
- Location: Baltimore,Amsterdam
Re: hi luvtick
OMFG...the pink kush...stink smush...puke!Spliphy wrote:nice to meet you and USBonglord over Basjoes...i have a sneaking suspicion that the pink kush from Popeye's that you loaded in a bong for me was an "initiation" you prankster, you.
Spliphy...so sorry! teeheehee! nice meeting you too!
GSUtoker...lmfao...me too--although ONE hit was one hit too many, imho!gsutoker wrote:Not the pink kush... I'd rather smoke already vaped buds than anymore of that pink kush. 2 hits was enough for me.
Stoner chicks RULE
-
cantona7
- Posts: 4131
- Joined: Sat 8th Jul 2006 10:01 pm
- Location: Seattle- trips to the 'dam, 7 by the time i caught up with freedom i was out of breathe
Re: hi luvtick
luvtick wrote:OMFG...the pink kush...stink smush...puke!Spliphy wrote:nice to meet you and USBonglord over Basjoes...i have a sneaking suspicion that the pink kush from Popeye's that you loaded in a bong for me was an "initiation" you prankster, you.
Spliphy...so sorry! teeheehee! nice meeting you too!
GSUtoker...lmfao...me too--although ONE hit was one hit too many, imho!gsutoker wrote:Not the pink kush... I'd rather smoke already vaped buds than anymore of that pink kush. 2 hits was enough for me.
note to self...avoid the popeyes pink kush. thanks for the heads up guys and gals.
educating myself and waiting for the next trip.
instagram @shooter_mcdabbin
instagram @shooter_mcdabbin
Day 1 / Part 1 / November 17, 2010
Upon deplaning, I go into the nearest Ladies’ room to change back into my warmer clothes. Down to Passport check where we walk right up to the window—no wait! That was easy. Next stop: Baggage Claim. A scattering of passengers from Detroit still circle the carousel and bags still take their rides around. A quick scan of the bags reveals ours already waiting for recovery. Perfect. Winter coats are layered on, the luggage handles slid up and locked, and we wheel our way to the cold outside air at Schiphol. Now all we have to do is get downtown. Where is that blue van? Exactly where it was last year…and…and…could it be? It is! It’s the same driver as last year! There is absolutely NO mistaking this! We certainly remember him, since he has a look that either has him driving a blue van or assisting a mad scientist in a laboratory somewhere in Transylvania… No matter. He is a sweet and kind man and he smiles a gigantic smile when Bong reminds him that he was our driver last year. He only remembers the hotel at which he dropped us last year, but I can see that the recognition made his day! One other person is in the van and we wait for at least one more passenger. In minutes the van is loaded and we begin our journey downtown.
This year, I bring my baddd-ass camera: my Canon 5D…a monster, but absolutely worth hauling around. Once inside the van I bring it out and start clickclickclicking away. Here are a few:
The first passenger is dropped off at the Hotel Okura. This is the same hotel I stayed in with my daughter when she was two years old! How cool! So…I have to take a photo:
Now we head off to deposit the next guy. More snapping of the shutter occurs (can’t wait for the snapping of tubes…but that’s later…)
Soon we are driving through the narrow streets where the set up for Winterland Amsterdam is in full swing. The van heads down the brick street when we stop. I look up from my view finder and see a truck parked on our left and the sidewalk full of tables, chairs and pedestrians on the right. The two drivers exchange banter and our guy folds his mirror in and slowly maneuvers past the entire hubbub. Less than half an inch on either side is all the room he needs and we are soon on our way to the Amstel Eden. There it is! Up ahead! I am afraid that since it is still rather early, noon-ish, we will have to wait to check into our room. But, as luck will have it, we are able to check in and in a flash we are upstairs continuing the antics that began in seats 13A and B.
Once we quadruple our satisfaction, it’s time to open the curtains…omg…LOOK AT THIS VIEW!!!!!!!!!!
Now zoomed in:
And to the right:
It is now time. Time to start the smokefest. First stop, since we have plenty of time until 4:20, BASJOE!!
As we approach the familiar canal and cross the familiar bridge, we see the familiar corner shop of wondrous delights. I document Bong’s ascent of the canal bridge. He kisses me at the apex. A young man is unloading sodas, chips and candy from a car and taking the boxes inside. He looks like James, only younger. Together we decide he is probably James’ son. The corner door is opened for me and I walk inside. As we become re-familiarized with the red bench and shiny table, a small creeping of sadness reminds us that our friend Leo will not be wishing us “good vibrations.” Condolences are given to our dreadlocked-friend-and-brother of Leo. I believe that Leo smiled upon us at that moment and the soothing red glow of Basjoe suddenly came back to life.
Remembering the coffee genius of James, Bong orders 2 lattes, some White Widow and the bong, please. The young man continues unloading the car and we introduce ourselves to him. He tells us that, indeed, he is James’ son. He says his name is El Griño. I am guessing about the spelling…but I did ask him to repeat it twice, so this is my best guess.
Lattes are placed in front of us. The creamy foam begs for sugar. I indulge as the White Widow is crumbled and made into a cone. As I sip the hot coffee, I observe Bong digging around in his bag. Out comes a small jar of…tattoo goo??? NO! It’s…it’s…SPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!! Joy of joys! With no further adieu, a halo of spoon is painted on the cone and soon the smell of sweetleaf wafts through my nostrils and ultimately down into my lungs. The smoke explodes as it expands and my signature cough, cough has commenced! Ahh…
I nod approvingly as James brings us the bong. I smile grandly when I see it is not just a bong with water inside…oh no…this bong is jammed with weed and topped with a nice ball of hash (yum!) right from James’ pocket! Thank you, James!!! Since wasting time is no option, Bong and I share the bowl and enjoy every inhale of the hash (yum!). The remaining White Widow is the next to fill the bong and, of course, Bong HAD to put spoon on it. The next thing I write says it all:
I AM STONED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yep.
A table full of young-looking men watches us clear bong load after bong load. They appear to know who Bong is…though we are not sure. Are they from ACD?? We never find out.
Bong returns to the counter to reciprocate James’ gift to us. A beautiful glob of shiny green is smeared onto a piece of wax paper and James’ smile lights the room more than it already is. Two more lattes are ordered (Basjoe DOES have great coffees!) and more White Widow is smoked…this time straight, no spoon. Conversations go in directions no one can anticipate: “Chicken McRibbit—would that be a frog??” Lattes are knocked back and laughter for seemingly no reason happens often. At one point Bong just looks at me and says, “Sometimes I have no clue what the fuck is going on around me…” Peals of laughter again…
So, what is Bong’s verdict of the White Widow? In his own handwriting: “White Widow Fuckin Good”
Barney’s Lounge is the destination for our 4:20 Toke and Talk. Around 3 pm we give our fist bumps and hugs to James, et al and head out the door…see y’all there…
Upon deplaning, I go into the nearest Ladies’ room to change back into my warmer clothes. Down to Passport check where we walk right up to the window—no wait! That was easy. Next stop: Baggage Claim. A scattering of passengers from Detroit still circle the carousel and bags still take their rides around. A quick scan of the bags reveals ours already waiting for recovery. Perfect. Winter coats are layered on, the luggage handles slid up and locked, and we wheel our way to the cold outside air at Schiphol. Now all we have to do is get downtown. Where is that blue van? Exactly where it was last year…and…and…could it be? It is! It’s the same driver as last year! There is absolutely NO mistaking this! We certainly remember him, since he has a look that either has him driving a blue van or assisting a mad scientist in a laboratory somewhere in Transylvania… No matter. He is a sweet and kind man and he smiles a gigantic smile when Bong reminds him that he was our driver last year. He only remembers the hotel at which he dropped us last year, but I can see that the recognition made his day! One other person is in the van and we wait for at least one more passenger. In minutes the van is loaded and we begin our journey downtown.
This year, I bring my baddd-ass camera: my Canon 5D…a monster, but absolutely worth hauling around. Once inside the van I bring it out and start clickclickclicking away. Here are a few:
The first passenger is dropped off at the Hotel Okura. This is the same hotel I stayed in with my daughter when she was two years old! How cool! So…I have to take a photo:
Now we head off to deposit the next guy. More snapping of the shutter occurs (can’t wait for the snapping of tubes…but that’s later…)
Soon we are driving through the narrow streets where the set up for Winterland Amsterdam is in full swing. The van heads down the brick street when we stop. I look up from my view finder and see a truck parked on our left and the sidewalk full of tables, chairs and pedestrians on the right. The two drivers exchange banter and our guy folds his mirror in and slowly maneuvers past the entire hubbub. Less than half an inch on either side is all the room he needs and we are soon on our way to the Amstel Eden. There it is! Up ahead! I am afraid that since it is still rather early, noon-ish, we will have to wait to check into our room. But, as luck will have it, we are able to check in and in a flash we are upstairs continuing the antics that began in seats 13A and B.
Once we quadruple our satisfaction, it’s time to open the curtains…omg…LOOK AT THIS VIEW!!!!!!!!!!
Now zoomed in:
And to the right:
It is now time. Time to start the smokefest. First stop, since we have plenty of time until 4:20, BASJOE!!
As we approach the familiar canal and cross the familiar bridge, we see the familiar corner shop of wondrous delights. I document Bong’s ascent of the canal bridge. He kisses me at the apex. A young man is unloading sodas, chips and candy from a car and taking the boxes inside. He looks like James, only younger. Together we decide he is probably James’ son. The corner door is opened for me and I walk inside. As we become re-familiarized with the red bench and shiny table, a small creeping of sadness reminds us that our friend Leo will not be wishing us “good vibrations.” Condolences are given to our dreadlocked-friend-and-brother of Leo. I believe that Leo smiled upon us at that moment and the soothing red glow of Basjoe suddenly came back to life.
Remembering the coffee genius of James, Bong orders 2 lattes, some White Widow and the bong, please. The young man continues unloading the car and we introduce ourselves to him. He tells us that, indeed, he is James’ son. He says his name is El Griño. I am guessing about the spelling…but I did ask him to repeat it twice, so this is my best guess.
Lattes are placed in front of us. The creamy foam begs for sugar. I indulge as the White Widow is crumbled and made into a cone. As I sip the hot coffee, I observe Bong digging around in his bag. Out comes a small jar of…tattoo goo??? NO! It’s…it’s…SPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!! Joy of joys! With no further adieu, a halo of spoon is painted on the cone and soon the smell of sweetleaf wafts through my nostrils and ultimately down into my lungs. The smoke explodes as it expands and my signature cough, cough has commenced! Ahh…
I nod approvingly as James brings us the bong. I smile grandly when I see it is not just a bong with water inside…oh no…this bong is jammed with weed and topped with a nice ball of hash (yum!) right from James’ pocket! Thank you, James!!! Since wasting time is no option, Bong and I share the bowl and enjoy every inhale of the hash (yum!). The remaining White Widow is the next to fill the bong and, of course, Bong HAD to put spoon on it. The next thing I write says it all:
I AM STONED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Yep.
A table full of young-looking men watches us clear bong load after bong load. They appear to know who Bong is…though we are not sure. Are they from ACD?? We never find out.
Bong returns to the counter to reciprocate James’ gift to us. A beautiful glob of shiny green is smeared onto a piece of wax paper and James’ smile lights the room more than it already is. Two more lattes are ordered (Basjoe DOES have great coffees!) and more White Widow is smoked…this time straight, no spoon. Conversations go in directions no one can anticipate: “Chicken McRibbit—would that be a frog??” Lattes are knocked back and laughter for seemingly no reason happens often. At one point Bong just looks at me and says, “Sometimes I have no clue what the fuck is going on around me…” Peals of laughter again…
So, what is Bong’s verdict of the White Widow? In his own handwriting: “White Widow Fuckin Good”
Barney’s Lounge is the destination for our 4:20 Toke and Talk. Around 3 pm we give our fist bumps and hugs to James, et al and head out the door…see y’all there…
Last edited by luvtick on Mon 14th Feb 2011 10:29 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Stoner chicks RULE