City of Pimps and Whores
I went to the Red Light District the other day. No, it wasn’t for the sex… well, at least that time it wasn’t for the sex. I was looking for junkies to buy a bicycle from. Unlucky for me, I only ran into drug dealers dealing coke and E, but no bikes. So I went to a legitimate source and paid 100 euros for decent bike. I’ve been in the city for more than two weeks and walking is just no longer an option. I was happy with my new purchase and rode around for the full day. Best thing about it is you can’t get in trouble for drinking and riding a bike, and in this current weather, getting drunk and riding a bike is the best feeling. Well, at least it was for that one full day. The next day, my mates here decide to go to some club, and on our way I decide to stop by a grocery store and buy a sixer of beer to drink before the club. I park the bike right in front and one of my friends goes inside with me while the other is standing outside with his bike. He is not even four meters away from my bike and I go inside for less than three minutes. I come out and look around and guess what? Yeah, the bike is gone. The bike that I bought for 100 euros the previous day was stolen from me. The idiot that I was in entrusting a friend to watch it rather than taking the extra minute and chaining the bike, I was flat out of a bike. I paced around, getting pissed off, looking for traces of my bike or the thief anywhere, but there are over a million bikes in Amsterdam and finding yours is a little dilemma.
So What Do I Do?
I chug down the six beers, twice getting told by police that I couldn’t drink in public. I really didn’t care and kept drinking–what a rebel, I am. A rebel without a bike. Then I was back to basics. Went to the Red Light District to find some junkies to sell me a bike… hopefully, my own bike back to me, but again junkies were probably all enjoying their fixes some place else and I didn’t find any that wanted to sell me a bike. At a city where you can walk into a shop and order a pre-rolled joint that will send you to the moon, or walk into a smart shop and have a choice of your own magic shrooms, or where you have naked women dance in front of you in the streets where all you need to do is drop 50 Euros to walk in and have 30 minutes of bliss, or where you can go into a building and watch two women do things to a cucumber which God Himself did not think possible, where limits are pushed to the brink and where being sober seems like a hex, I cannot for the life of me get myself a bicycle that I can keep for longer than 24 hours. How pitiful. And not only that but when I got the club that night, I ended up getting so drunk that the bottom of a toilet is all I remember. Now I sit here, listening to the Black Snake Moan soundtrack and drinking another beer.
Now since I barely make any money from this blog and don’t have a job due to being a full-time exchange student, losing 100 euros because of some bike thief isn’t a small deal. Whatever, I guess I’ll keep my fingers crossed and hopefully tomorrow the junkies will have something for me. Cheers.