AMSTER-DAMAGE

“We have the Atlantis, Utopia, Pandora, Narnia and the Red Dragon”.

“Ahhh, the second strongest will do”. I’m handed a tin about the size of a cigarette box. I can feel the shop keepers smile following me out the door.

My partners in crime are waiting for me, sucking on a hash joint. It’s lunchtime in Amsterdam and for today’s meal we have this tin of Truffles or otherwise known as shrooms. Apparently thirds in this will be a pretty gnarly experience.

We crack the seal and divide the stash. Down the hatch the truffles go, they taste like sour nuts, crunchy and bitter. Like anything you do for the first time you want someone dumb enough to do it with you. I’m fortunate enough to have Tweedel-Dee & Tweedle-Dum following me down the rabbit hole.

“How long we got?” Kingsley says. I look back at the drugstore, “No idea, let’s get comfortable though”. We jump on our two red hire bikes, Kingsley draws the short straw and has to carry tyler on the wheel. Grabbing some herb along the way we head home, excited for the experience to come. 5th and top floor of a two star hostel is residence for us. We want out trip to start here, if one of us starts foaming at the mouth or loosing the plot we want it to be in the comfort of our room.

Two cigarettes, another joint, and a few tinnies later; we’re starting to feel pretty weird. The headaches are creeping in and our hands getting sweaty. We’re not through the wardrobe and into Narnia yet, but we’re certainly not our usual selves. Our grip on reality is slipping as we discuss what vegetables we each best resemble.

The roofs getting lower and the room is heating up, my eyes are becoming lazy, my smile crooked. I look across at Tyler. His mouths wide open; head rolling side to side like a carnival clown. I have to refrain myself from lobbing the nearest objects into his mouth.
With a splutter I hear the shower kick on shortly followed by Kingsley’s yelling. Fighting with the cold water, Like a sea serpent I can imagine.

My attention is constantly draw to objects around the room, as if i’m only now just realising we have a lamp. I move to the window, the roofs tops of Amsterdam are rising and falling like brick and tile waves. I feel weightless, full of air, like a balloon about to float out into the street. Hurriedly I attach myself to the bed afraid this might actually be possible.

Tyler jumps up, “let’s get the fuck out of here mannnnn”, his voice sounds warped and distorted. “To myy syyystemsss” he says.

I look over at Tyler, his shades are on, staring into my soul. “Huh” I reply.

He leans closer lifting his glasses up, two doughy eyes blinking randomly.
“My sisters, you fuck!”

Having a sober sister watching our slippery selves is logic I can’t ignore. We grab the sea monster from the shower, slap some clothes on him and make for the lift. The journey down is a mix of emotions, we laugh, cringe, exclaim and stammer. Doors open and we slide out through the lobby and onto the street. The last lifeline holding us to reality is cast off; my vision is a blur of jolly Dutch riding effortlessly past, each sound resonating through my body like a night in the club.

What ever our goal or purpose was, the three of us can’t remember. Kingsley’s attention is stolen by a piece of thread trailing around the corner. He looks back at us string in hand smiling from ear to ear and then he is gone. We follow, picking up the thread and running it through our hands. It leads us on, our silent guide, taking us who knows where. Left, right, left, left, over a bridge. This continued for a good ten minutes. The string so fine we can’t see it more then a couple paces ahead. Passers by must have stopped to make way for the vegetable parade because we never had to change course or look up. We follow, consumed by a near invisible thread.

All that matters now is the string, where did it come from and where does it lead? Our guide wraps it’s way down another alley and under a door.We look up the colour draining from our faces, three things happen at once. My world rocks from side to side, nausea kicking in. Kingsley slumps against the wall, exclaiming “What the fuck”, Tyler hammers on the door repeating ” No no no…” Of all the doors in Amsterdam we find ourselves outside Tyler’s sisters door.

I’ve never believed in fate but what the hell is this shit! Our guide led us exactly where we needed to go, where we wanted to go. The truffles seem to be kicking in to overdrive; this whole experience is a real punch in the brain.The door opens, and we burst through.

This has all been too much, it takes the three of us jamming words over each other to explain our journey and its dramatic conclusion. Our host is still disbelieving.I’d later find out Tyler’s sister studies fashion & while riding home a spool of sewing thread fell out of her basket and trailed its way behind her. With some luck or fate or what ever you want to call it we picked it up.

I doubt I will ever experience such a divine series of events again or if I would be able to handle it.I hope everyone lives a moment like this in their life. For a moment when you feel like everything you do is guided or pulled at by an invisible thread. Till the next tale…

Caspar, out