We found ourselves back in Damm Square. On the way we passed two things of incredible hilarity: first was a statue of what appeared to be Karl Marx, to which I shouted "FUCK YOU KARL MARX!" What I didn't realize was that it was a statue for one of Holland's patriots from something-or-other, and I quickly and quietly hurried out of the area. Second, Chris commented about an arch built not too far from the statue that is a smaller recreation of the Brandenburg Gates. I quipped that the Germans must have made the Dutch build it during their last occupation here; Chris laughed. The fair from the previous day was still in full swing. There were plenty of people out on a sunny Sunday morning. Everything seemed so right with the world. Here is video of the phallic monument of Damm Square and the fair:
Our destination was the best coffee shop in town: Barney's. This particular coffee shop has grown Cannabis Cup winners. It also is one of the few shops that serves breakfast. Both of these factors drew us in. First, a cup of coffee, then a pre-rolled joint of G-13. Yes, that's right, the very bud grown by the US government. I was wondering when Amsterdam's finest was going to hit me, and this had the impact of a sledgehammer to the face. After a few puffs my face went numb, and after a couple more I started to lose basic motor functions. It wasn't until our omelets arrived that I was brought back to reality. I don't remember how long I was out for, but Chris gave me a napkin to wipe up the drool on my jacket.
Since this was a holiday for the cannabis culture, I tried to spread the good cheer to people who would sit at the same table at us as the day went on. The problem was that most Europeans had no clue that 4/20 was a major cannabis holiday. This makes sense because it is an American invention, and Europeans seem to be on a curve when it comes to adapting American innovations. I simply found this to be annoying as I had come to accept the cannabis culture as an international, intergenerational movement. Indeed, twenty minutes past the hour means that is it 4:20 somewhere, and that somebody is probably lighting up. I myself have even made a point of checking times to see who was doing it where, and join them in my own private celebration. It came to a point where my friends would ask, "Hey Pat, where's it 4:20 now?" and in the times that I had no clue, my smartass remark always was "Russia." I figured I'd hedge my bets on a country that spans 16 time zones, and I was usually right 2/3rds of the time.
My most favorite part of these encounters with the Europeans was grilling them with questions about their home countries and Europe in general. My favorite question to ask was, "Of all your neighboring countries, which one do you like the least?" For the pair of Poles who I asked this too, the immediate response was Germany. I guess there was still some leftover resentment from the war there. The next person who sat down was a Frenchman. I asked him the question, and he said the Spanish. I found this interesting, as I had thought that France and Germany were mortal enemies and would always remain bitter at each other. On the contrary, since the EU is primarily in place to keep both France and Germany happy, the arrangement has disarmed much of the hatred between the two. This made sense, for if Germany and France were to ever have a major tiff ever again, it would threaten the foundation of the entire EU, and bring it crumbling down like a house of cards. Next was a couple of Dutch, who expressed a dislike of Germany. And finally, a Dane, who said there was still bad blood between his country and Sweden. What I found ultimately humorous about this question was that Europe was on the verge of uniting in the most integrated process to date and yet there was still the resentment of generations of in-fighting that did not seem to have any impact on the success of the Union. In the end, I concluded that the Union was a family, and that nobody can hate quite like family. They will have a lot to learn from the US in this regard.
We stayed at Barney's until a little 4:20PM. Having my fill, I needed to quit while I was ahead because I had to fly from Amsterdam to Barcelona at 7:35PM that night, and have at least some wits about me in order to accomplish the task. Chris rode the train with me to the airport, and saw me off. We agreed to meet up in 8-10 weeks when I would be going through the Low Countries.
I went to check my bag, only to have them tell me that not only was I overweight (damn metric system!) but that I could only take one carry on with me instead of the two normally alloted by US airlines. Being rather complacent at this point, it was only a minor inconvenience at a cost of 10 additional Euros. Fine. Made it to the gate without a problem, and noticed subtle differences between American and European security measures. I think the biggest one is that the European security measures are at least humanizing, in that they don't practically look behind the fillings of your teeth for weapons. I didn't have to take off my shoes, but they did make me removed my belt. I was fine with this because the shoes thing is such a hassle at an airport, especially if you are in a hurry. It made me realize the ridiculousness behind American paranoia in comparison to a continent which has had a greater history involving terrorism than the US. Indeed, when we started dehumanizing our own citizens for collective security, we handed the terrorists a great moral victory. Perhaps the reason they have not been back to destroy us and our ideals of liberty and freedom is because we have accomplished that task all by ourselves. Oh the irony, America!
I slept the whole way there, and awoke in Barcelona.
This is my best friend and partner in crime Chris. And I actually caught him smiling.
This is extremely rare!
