A blurry night out

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Despite the plethora of Dutch snacks,  a nice Pino Noir and comfortable flannel pajama’s, Christina got restless at about 7.30 pm.  “Let’s step out for a beer” she said. My alarm bells didn’t ring.  “Just one beer” she reiterated…”sure ,” I said, oh foolish man.   We found an Irish Pub where they poured a very respectable Guinness and a reasonable red wine.  Christina was looking for something with a little muscle something like a Martini, perhaps.  Christina approached the bartender, did they know how to mix a martini? Umm… that would be, not really.  So Christina talked them through the process. Do you have a cocktail shaker? In an Irish Pub? Umm…that would be no. Christina returns to our table with a very insipid drink, too little Vodka too much Vermouth not enough ice and not enough “bite”. Conversation ensues. This is Amsterdam. A very important city. We are in a tourist area full of Americans.  Why can’t they make Martinis here? Christina is clearly unhappy.  I will help ‘fix’ the problem. I add a double shot of Absolute vodka and some ice to her existing drink and stir gently. Yes! Christina is happy. The drink is very fine.  We have another two, very fine, very double drinks.  Christina is approaching the point of no return and suggests visiting a Dutch coffee shop. Who’s ubiquitous presence is made obvious by the strong aroma of  MJ. I know now that I’m in deep trouble. We pick a place off Van Rjin Square with loud techno-crap music and flashing purple neon lights that announces we are entering Club Smokey. Two more very double, very fine vodka’s and we need to get back home.  We are within stumbling distance but I have to distract Christina who is by now intent on visiting every dive bar we pass. We stop to listen to a harpist play. Christina thinks her playing is divine and wants to linger,  not me I’m freezing my ass off sitting on a cold granite bench in 36 degree weather. What was in store for NYE at this rate!?  We will post our crazy New Year’s night soon!  Ps. The draft horses pulling the trailer full of beer is headed to our apartment – yes!

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