Stoned in Amsterdam

When in Rome: A day stoned in Amsterdam with the family


Stoned in Amsterdam

“Should I do it? No, I can’t,” I thought to myself as my cousin and friend crossed the street and led me to the well-known local coffee shop called the Bulldog. I had heard of this place before, a friend’s mom told me she had gone here in the 80’s, and here it was, all of its inhabitants definitely not drinking coffee!

I knew I wanted to – you don’t come to Amsterdam without trying it once – but my dad was right behind me, wanting to see what all the fuss was about. As we walked down the stairs all I could think was, “This place is amazing!” with minimal lighting, full of signs with jokes about smoking and patrons acting as if they were actually in a regular coffee shop, not something you see everyday when you live across the ocean.

“What harm can it really do? I’M DOING IT!” I thought triumphantly.

I watched as my cousin ordered pre-rolled joints. Though the sign said “No pictures” I took a sneaky one to document the moment. As fast as the joints were purchased, they were lit and that was when the fun really began.

A few minutes later, we exited, not in the state of mind we entered in. We rejoined the rest of my family, all happily chatting away in Dutch; this definitely did not make it easier to understand them. Upon seeing us they just laughed and asked how we felt and if dinner was our next stop. Of course it was!

We found a busy Italian restaurant with a huge menu of pasta and pizza. Jack (my friend) and I shared a menu. While everyone was deciding, we were looking at each other in confusion; the menu was in Dutch. A half an hour later we started to panic as everyone closed their menus and finally, we got the courage to ask for a menu in English. When we asked the waiter, he looked at us and laughed.

“It is in English!” he said.

“No it’s not!” I protested.

Upon looking closer, like magic, the words shifted and all the sudden it was like a blind man being able to see again. I could read the menu!

Everyone busted out laughing while Jack and I quickly chose our dinner. The realization hit — I was stoned in Amsterdam.

It is safe to say it was the best four cheese penne I have ever had.

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