The Day My Travel Buddy Didn't Get Laid

My buddy had just gotten back from Afghanistan, er, I mean Kentucky, and was desperate for European pussy. I was living in Granada, Spain and I was not very happy. Granada is one of the most racist places on the planet, and Gitanos, Arabs, and the Catholic-defenders of the faith live in a semi-intellectual state of near-confrontation. Nonetheless, we still did well, and he got to tap more Spanish ass that we can count.

However, Granada is a university city, and it begins dying down in June. The students, the closest thing the city has to an intellectual class, leave and the temperature begins to rise to 40 Celsius during the day. You can sometimes enter a bar and find that it is completely empty, especially more so with the current crisis. Eventually it got to be too much, and my friend decided that he was leaving for Amsterdam before going back to Americastan. Feeling suffocated, I decided that I would follow along.

I packed a book-bag and left with no idea of what awaited me. We get to Amsterdam and life once against starts flowing through my veins. There is life here, and the people have the intellectual capacity to determine the difference between a light-skin black guy speaking English and an Arab on the verge of starting a religious war to take back the city.

I had left Europe's Alabama and found myself in San Francisco, but not all was to be magical. My buddy and I end up in one of the nightclubs in Rembrantplein. The nightclub across that one had a massive line, so we entered the predominantly minority nightclub across the street. We had met two Dutch girls, mine was tall and beautiful, so I asked my buddy to take one for the team. Well, I didn't really have to ask, he was more than willing to tap a Dutch 6.

Inside the nightclub we are dancing merengue and everything is going awesome. However, pick-pocketing here is rampant, and someone takes my girl's Blackberry. She says, "I'm sorry," and proceeds to frisk me. I look at her like, "wtf," but let it go and we keep drinking and dancing until sunrise. Everyone was making out, and then we began heading for our hotel at PC Hoofstraat, one of the most expensive streets in Amsterdam.

Along the way she asked me for ID, and I say "you serious?" And then she frisked me again in the middle of the street. I let her, and walk ahead angrily afterwards. I walked a block, pissed off, and my friend and the two girls catch up with me. She can tell I'm pissed, and I tell her that I am offended. She says that this is Holland and that she is going to do things her way.

I shake her hand and wish her a safe bus ride home. Of course, that also meant that my buddy wouldn't get laid. He had the saddest look on his face, I had taken away his snack, and he says to me, "you know what your defect is? You are too proud."

I say: "that girl was a farmer, probably has never left the Netherlands." And my buddy responds, "what is wrong with that?"

I am stumped, didn't want to go into my experiences with white pigs in the Bronx, but even though I cockblocked him and he had been paying for the drinks, I still think I did the right thing in preventing such a woman from entering our hotel.