I found myself somewhere in the center of Amsterdam. It was Friday at noon, and I was sober. I presumed the afternoon would be like other fashion outings with my girlfriend: we would go to a fashion show; meet a lot of loud, excited, beautiful people; see some nice threads; and interact with businessmen trying to get my girlfriend to buy their lines.
Naturally, I decided to stop for a drink at Warmoesstraat and let her go ahead. I wanted to at least be a bit relaxed for the whole ordeal. I wanted to show up mostly for the freebies. I needed a new t-shirt and wasn't in the mood for shelling out two euros and ninety nine cents. Don't judge, I'm weird when it comes to spending money on certain things.
So, the fashion show was not too far from the Haarlemmerdijk -- Amsterdam's answer to SOHO -- meaning that I had to walk about half an hour from Warmoesstraat to the end of the Haarlemmerdijk. I was to meet my girlfriend at some tent in a park by Haarlemmerdijk, but the beer got me better than I expected. I got lost, stumbled in the middle of a snowfield, and, after finding the tent for Amsterdam Fashion Week, tried entering through the back. After making it to the front entrance, I learned that the Gsus fashion show, for which my girlfriend had been invited, had already started.
My girlfriend waited for me until the very last minute, and it was my delaying her that changed her fate and mine. She was the last one to enter the fashion show stage, and her third-row seat was already occupied. A guy in an orange suit approached her and was not only kind enough to give her front-row seating, but also the goodie bag that came with that privilege.
The fashion show was merely 20 minutes, and afterwards I joined for the after-party. My girlfriend handed me two kickass t-shirts, exceeding my expectations. They were sophisticated, but inside held cutting lines in case you ever wanted to customize them with a pair of scissors. When the t-shirt fades, you turn it inside out, and customize it.
Gsus had my attention; they had prepared a product with consideration for its afterlife, for the potential of a t-shirtical revival. Bang! Cheapskate Jose now not only had 2 t-shirts with an afterlife as fancy wifebeaters, but also some wine tokens. Gsus had delivered wine, and the wine was good. I raised my glass -- my girlfriend did the same -- and I made a toast, "to long life and good health," right as a 172 centimeter man approached from the shadows behind a mannequin.
He knew my girlfriend and introduced himself. Noticing that my wine glass was near-empty just after one toast, he said, "let one among you who is without wine, ask for more tokens." He handed me a handful of tokens, and I knew that my Friday afternoon wouldn't be as sober as I had predicted.
"You're a criminal," I said; "Wine is my enemy!"
I don't remember much of what happened after that, but I do remember he said, "love thy enemy."
