Day-IV: The Exodus & Dreary Drizzle
I awake on an overcast dreary Friday, pitter-patter of rain tapping on the roof of my loft-bedroom. My eyes are quite literally gorilla glued shut, as if my absent stone-over the morning before and my syrup consumption last night, were both simultaneously catching up with me.
My missus has Fridays off and is feeling a hair better now, so I check my phone to confirm that the farewell brekkie is still a-go and prod her into joining me to be social. We get dressed and make the brief five minute walk over to La Grotte, where the ACD legion has convened en masse: Matty, Macky, Ricky Dude, CC, Danny (?), and more I'm assuredly omitting.
Me and the missus were stragglers to this breakfast edition, so the crowd thins out rather quickly until yet again the fiets crew are the only ones left standing. Our Danish friend having turned in their steel-steeds make talks of heading to Hill Street Blues to just sesh hardcore and chill out until they make for Centraal to catch their flight. Ricky is titty-aching per usual. And OHMF is on about returning his bike, but first doing a quick B&F somewhere across town that I cannot recall.
The missus having reached her socialization quota for the month
and still in need of bed rest returns home. I accompany the Danes and Ricky to Hill Street via the reliable old shoelace express. We set up in the downstairs smoking salon rather hastily. A few hot-cocoas ordered up. Mr. CC pulls out his extensive collection of various wares from the week, and begins the cumbersome undertaking as smoking his way through as much of it as possible before the impending departure. The prized rear cluster of couches soon clears up, and we're rewarded with the best seats in the house, a nice window opening out up onto the canal, and big...grey..skies....ah the dreary drizzle, a fitting day for the Amsterdam blues if I ever saw one.
Some short while later, our favorite Yorkshire lad is back, restock in hand and sans fiets. He whips out the e-nail and the dab-train quickly pulls off from platform 710. Mr. CC concocts a monster cocktail dab with the last of his concentrates and proceeds to cough up a lung nearly. Ms. CC finishes twisting up her elegant cones what the two of them reckon they'll be able to get through before the flight, and they gift the leftovers to yours truly (tak
). Slurping down the last of their sugary beverages, our lovely Danish compadres bid us all farewell, and like that the fiets crew is officially disbanded and unraveling. I'm sad to see them go, as it really affirms that the festivities have already come and gone. Much like the feeling you have on Christmas day,
after opening your presents
With CC now departed, the Yorkshire brothers and I nail down a new plan of action. We settle on a final session in the Bat Cave is oh-so-fitting fashion. Just be we set off, Chopper Mike arrives with a hand full of the notorious Paradox space cakes in tow. He generously offers me one, and I happily accept! I have to say I've always considered them a bit overhyped (tried them in a few times in the past, even eating as much as two up front on one occasion, I digress) but today I must have been given one of the "strong" ones from a batch, I would soon find out, as the day wore on.
We arrive to a hazy dab-dungeon, some of the ICmag stragglers are also sharing the rookruimte with us. We begin the ritual of setting up the e-nail one last time and skinning up a few more doobs. I am a severly lacking stoner and conversationalist at this point - the space cake has hit me full-on, and I'm struggling to keep my eyes open and downright nodding-off like some kind of junkie deep in an opiate-induced stupor. Thinking I may have to give a few more reassessments to these Paradox cakes in the near future after all. One of the IC crew a young bald fella, is smoking on a large "sebsi" (traditional Moroccan Kif pip), and I periodically watch him puffing away amusingly between my "opiate nods". In addition to myself and the Yorkshire lads, there are some other stragglers in the dungeon with us, if my memory serves I wanna say Papi, Omnibuz, maybe Danny (he was always so quiet so I can never be sure), Stan the Man definitely made an appearance to come see us at some point, he didn't stay long but nonetheless was good to see him there, as he was surprisingly absent this year - perhaps he was too busy with all the lekker weed samples he was judging for his own personal cup!
After what seemed like hours of OHMF & Ricky troopering on, through their stashes one dab and doob at a time, and me merely half-conscious - they sense my need for some fresh air yet again (the dab dungeon getting me again, talk about being cursed on your home turf). We head off to Voyagers much to my chagrin (smokey as hell in there too, more so in fact), they assure me it's a buy and fly and we'll be off. OHMF grabs some more space cakes for the flight, and some Lemon Bubble + Kosher Dawg. I stare at him dumbfounded as for the first time in ages I'm cannatonic off some CS-edibles (he ate some Paradox cakes as well, perhaps even more than one) wondering how he's still just truckin' along like a champ! We round the corner by Voyagers and are walking down the canal toward Nieuwmarkt, the Yorkshire lads are already scarfing down their second helping of medibles. They do look tasty, Ricky catches my cheeky glances and offers me the last third or so of his, damn they are tasty - I consider grabbing one for myself on taste alone (sugar rush), but realize that I'm well crispy and that would be a silly move for both my current state and wallet, ah well!
OHMF had skinned up a few doobs in advance at Voyagers, so we reach the Nieuwmarkt square and double back down the Zeedijk for some doobs of Lemon Bubble and Kosher Dawg. Kosher Dawg, I had smelled the night previous from Matty's stash while at Batavia (after he raved about it on here), have to say it did absolutely reek like some pungent fucking funk! I again spared my wallet as the week had already done it's damage - I digress, the pure cone of KD was alright but the flavor didn't come through - though I reckon it was more the fact that I was combusting (vaping only for this cat) rather than any fault of the weed as it burned with a nice clean ash to boot. The Lemon Bubble was just a typical Dutch haze to me, and again the fact that it was burned rather than vaped didn't do it any favors in getting a fair and proper assessment from ole Nugsy!
We again double back southbound weaving through de Wallen, we arrive at the Bulldog Hotel and our lads collect the luggage. Mofo packs a up a Mighty chamber up bubble and we make for Centraal. The LB fares much better in the vape naturally, although I still don't think this is as exceptional or standout of a haze as previous batches I've tried - and again when I can get excellent, clean hazes for 7-8 a gram of comparable quality, it's just not a type of weed I can often justify purchasing on the rare occasions I do make a CS purchase, especially at 12 a gram - nonetheless given the expected prices du jour in Amsterdam CS's it's fine and fairly priced enough product (just not for me), and you could easily do much, much worse in terms of CS buys. Definitely would've liked to sample the Kosher Dawg in a vape but Mofo only purchased in a gram which was promptly skinned, maybe if it's still around the next time I get an inch for some pricey shit I'll give it a proper assessment.
Back to our heroes, we find ourselves approaching Centraal station all two soon, I walk our boys up to the crosswalk in front of Batavia, we hug it our and shed a tear or two, I wish them safe travels and tell them to come back very soon - I'll be happy to accommodate them (y'all as well CC
)! The fiets crew is officially no more, head hung low - it's back to the phone like a proper millennial wanker, pinging the missus to see what she's up to, looking forward to spending some quality time with her this weekend as I've been quite M.I.A. amidst the 4/20 week madness. She quickly and sassily informs me that she's going for drinks with her own friend for a bit, that's what I get for my excessive absence I suppose. Alright NEXT! I'm well tired but if she's gonna be out a bit longer, it's Friday so fuck it - I'm already messaging the homie Elastic Band, we link up at Bar Bones for some cheeky biertjes and sticky brick bowls (and his nasty ole spliffs of course), I don't stay too long, I reckon by 9 o' clock I head home. I turn on some Action Bronson "Fuck That's Delicious" and fall asleep into a deep, deep weed coma courtesy of a legendary fucking week and Paradox space cakes.
Sounds like the week was a massive success and love the detailed reporting of the fiets crew! You guys sound like some serious smokers!
☁ 
