December 5th, 2002


Last Night

So I woke up at four in the morning, naked, bruised, and chained to a lamp post somewhere in Amsterdam. The street around me littered with ball bearings, chocolate covered coffee beans, and the burning ruins of at least three automobiles. A furniture shop across the street had been broken into with what looked like the bonnet (hood) of one of the cars, glass twinkling like rough diamonds on the ground. It turns out that's where I got the chair I'm sat in. Thank the powers it wasn't anywhere else.

The policeman that came to wake me up administered the requisite beating one would deliver to anyone that had tried mere hours before to thoroughly destroy a major intersection of the city. I bled obligingly, and hoped he was going to do something about the handcuffs. He then wrote me a ticket for a hundred Euros. I could have decapitated a bus full of senior citizens and redecorated the square with their entrails, but I didn't have another twenty Euros.

Long story short, he let me free, I bought some clothes, just made it to a night ferry and caught the first train of the morning back home, not having to pay for the cost of a ticket on the train by pretending to be a suitcase.

Let us never speak of last night again.
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