I have always been interested in the way people in other countries live. To broaden my horizons, I planned a trip to Europe. Italy, France, the Netherlands, and Greece were on my itinerary. I very much wanted to sample other customs, other societies and partake of their societal norms.
I was traveling alone because I caught my girlfriend fucking some dude. Yeah, I could have raised hell, challenged him to a fight. Could have done many things but I chose to leave her, and most of my stuff. I even left my toy poodle, Oui, Oui. I named him that because of his propensity for pissing on my shoes.
You might be wondering why I didn't get physical with that guy who I found balls deep in who I thought was my woman. For starters, the guy fucking my ex was tons bigger than me. I could see he easily outweighed me by maybe 80 pounds. And, from the way he lay across my girl, I figured he had to be around 6'-6'2". The nonchalant way he looked at me before resuming his pounding of my girl's pussy told me he saw me as no threat.
Of course, he didn't see me that way. At 5' 6" and all of 128 pounds, I am not an imposing figure. Look, I didn't choose to be built like I am. At 26, I still buy my clothes in the boy's department. Flared hips, narrow shoulders, most of my weight is in my bottom. Long slender fingers on delicate hands, tiny feet, you get the picture.
It was after a few minutes of watching the rutting couple and seeing my girl responding to what can only be described as a beautiful specimen of a cock, I left in tears. I knew I would never be able to compete with a man like that.
So now, with dry shoes and all, I was aboard a 747. First stop Heathrow. I was eager to put the past behind me and try different things. Perhaps I could even find meaning in my life.
I hadn't planned on staying in England. I mean how many English restaurants do you see in America? Not too many, right? I do love to eat good food and am fortunate that I do not gain weight. Besides, I wanted to hit Amsterdam. I heard the weed there is great. And the weed and sex shows had been recommended by co-workers.
I boarded my connecting flight. In no time at all, we landed at Schiphol International and soon enough found myself in a city filled with cyclists. Sure, there were cars, buses, trucks, but bikes out-numbered them all. They were fucking everywhere and you'd better be careful when crossing the street at night. Like some farts, bikes can silent but deadly. And if like me, you're stoned on some high-grade shit, crossing the busy Holland streets that led back to my hotel was like playing frogger.
I had visited the "Tea Room" at the concierge's suggestion.
It was serendipity that the concierge took a liking to me. His name was Hans. Tall, blonde, handsome, with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen, he was super friendly. He seemed genuinely concerned that I saw and enjoyed everything Amsterdam had to offer.
He smiled seeing that I had taken his advice and visited the Tea Room. That I was high was evident to even the causal observer.
He asked if I'd like to join him for dinner to which I readily agreed. I guess we looked a bit strange, the much taller man walking beside a very slight man. Hans didn't mention my lack of size as he led the way to a Chinese restaurant.
I thought I was still stoned hearing a Chinese man talk with a Dutch accent. It was all pleasantly different and different is what I was seeking.
The food was excellent. Not like the stuff served in any Cinese-American restaurant I'd ever eaten in.
Hans asked what I'd like to drink. "Whiskey, please," I smiled. I do enjoy a nice bourbon on the rocks.
I learned that in Europe, whiskey means Scotch. Hans ordered the same for him and before we left, we both had a happy buzz.
"Come with me, johnnie," he said taking my hand. "Let me show you the world-famous red-light district."
I scurried to keep up with the large man. I didn't feel at all weird that he was holding my hand. For some reason, I accepted it as his way of not losing me even though the pedestrian traffic had thinned out considerably. I also figured it was how men walked together in Europe and I was determined to sample everthing they had ot offer.
Finally, after several blocks of row houses along canals, he slowed allowing me to catch my breath. "Look, johnnie. Look up at the windows. See the sexy women for sale?"
I did see them. There were many beautiful women in various forms of undress, advertising their wares. Hans explained that the state allowed for this as long as they were routinely inspected and tested for venereal diseases. "Prostitution is restricted only to this area," Hans explained.
He led me to a bench along the narrow canal and produced a small pipe. Pulling a little sack from his pocket, Hans filled the pipe's bowl and lit it. I watched him take a deep inhale before he offered the pipe to me. "Hashish, my cute little American princess?"
I took a big hit and coughed. Hans laughed heartedly. "It takes some getting used to, yes?"
We sat, each lost in our own hash dreams.
I don't know how long Hans and I were in our fogged state when he roused me from my stupor. "It's late, johnnie. I will walk you back to the hotel. Come with me."
I stood on wobbly legs which caused my new friend to laugh and hold me close to make sure I did not fall.
We'd walked half a block when I put an arm around his waist. I did that purely for support mind you, and that is how we made our way back to my room.
I was so wasted that I didn't fight it when Hans helped me out of my clothes and into bed. "Good night, my little princess," I thought I heard him say and wondered who he was talking to as I fell into a deep sleep.
I was awakened by the knock on my door. "Room service," they called out. "I have your breakfast."
Give me a minute," I called out pushing the covers off. I was surprised to see I was completely naked.
I hurried into a complimentary robe and opened the door.
The bus boy rolled in a cart with a pot of coffee, one cup, and some pastries which I learned were poffertjes. "Hans had me bring this to you, johnnie," he said using my given name. Then, as he was leaving, he used the same term Hans had been using. "Have a nice day, princess."
My mind was cloudy as the bus boy refused a tip and left.
I sat sipping the hot coffee wondering what happened last night. "Your first night and you got wasted," I thought. I resolved to take it easy from then on.
