The “Girls” turned up ready and raring to go at 19:30, unsure of what they had let themselves in for. After paying €20 for 5 free drinks and free entry to the biggest Red Light District club it seemed a bargain. It was only after when we realised every drink was a shot of Jagermeister which had to be washed down by a €3 half pint, and the club had pool tables in it we questioned the price.
The first club we went into was called Players and gave us all a nostalgic feel to Sheffield. But unlike the Sheffield version, and surprising considering where we were, there was a limited amount of flesh on show. The highlight of the bar was unlimited shots that were squirted directly into our mouths. It was a novelty that distracted us away from the fact it consisted mostly of juice than any other alcoholic substance.
The night continued as any other bar crawl night would and after being advised to “hang on to our penises and pussies” we left Players and walked the short distance to the next bar. I unfortunately can’t go into every detail that happened on the bar crawl but the main details are in every bar we had a free shot of Jagermeister and as the night went on everyone started to get more and more drunk.
One highlight, although I doubt I can use that word, was when we noticed a couple making out behind us. To our surprise it was in fact two guys whose only excuse was “we are great friends and he’s got a girlfriend, but when in Amsterdam.” Shocked and horrified we scampered quickly and headed for the first experience I’ve had of a Dubstep club. As the other previous blogs have said a large majority of us needed some assistance from veterans Sam Moir and Tom Bowles, but as I still didn’t really understand it I resorted to the classic stand on the stage with a group of lads and jump up and down.
The night took a turn for the worse as we closed in on our hostel. After Worrall had successfully navigated us home, a simple piggyback left Erin writhing in pain only 5 feet from the door.
Taking full responsibility for it I set off in search of help, while Erin lay bruised on the concrete. But instead utterly confused myself by running round in circles for a good 2 minutes before trying to enter the wrong room.
Finally getting everyone to bed I feel asleep knowing that the next morning I would be chewing on hay and adjusting my saddle bags in my new role as a donkey.
Awaking from the plastic bed I hoped what had happened was a dream and I thought it might have been, till I opened my eyes to see my finger dislocated and pointing in a different direction and the small cry from underneath my bunk. Heading for breakfast, trying desperately to think of other forms of saying sorry, I was now fully committed to making sure everything was taken care of when it came to Erin. We also established that from now on any form of transport other than taxi and buses on a night out was a big NO NO!
We battled through and after trying to fit our smallest member, LBell in a suitcase, headed for the Red Light District. In the day time we expected something different, however it was very much how we remembered it from the night before, girls girls girls. It was interesting in a way how it was part of their culture and although I had only been there for a day now it wasn’t so much as a shock, it was just their way of life.
Our tour began at the Erotic Museum which was interesting to say the least. After walking round and finding out the history of eroticism we entered a room that reminded me of a children’s play area in a hospital ward. We took our seats on an individual toadstool and sat back to watch a film I can only describe as an X-rated version of Disney. Put it this way, I will never be able to watch Bambi again.
The first club we went into was called Players and gave us all a nostalgic feel to Sheffield. But unlike the Sheffield version, and surprising considering where we were, there was a limited amount of flesh on show. The highlight of the bar was unlimited shots that were squirted directly into our mouths. It was a novelty that distracted us away from the fact it consisted mostly of juice than any other alcoholic substance.
The night continued as any other bar crawl night would and after being advised to “hang on to our penises and pussies” we left Players and walked the short distance to the next bar. I unfortunately can’t go into every detail that happened on the bar crawl but the main details are in every bar we had a free shot of Jagermeister and as the night went on everyone started to get more and more drunk.
One highlight, although I doubt I can use that word, was when we noticed a couple making out behind us. To our surprise it was in fact two guys whose only excuse was “we are great friends and he’s got a girlfriend, but when in Amsterdam.” Shocked and horrified we scampered quickly and headed for the first experience I’ve had of a Dubstep club. As the other previous blogs have said a large majority of us needed some assistance from veterans Sam Moir and Tom Bowles, but as I still didn’t really understand it I resorted to the classic stand on the stage with a group of lads and jump up and down.
The night took a turn for the worse as we closed in on our hostel. After Worrall had successfully navigated us home, a simple piggyback left Erin writhing in pain only 5 feet from the door.
Taking full responsibility for it I set off in search of help, while Erin lay bruised on the concrete. But instead utterly confused myself by running round in circles for a good 2 minutes before trying to enter the wrong room.
Finally getting everyone to bed I feel asleep knowing that the next morning I would be chewing on hay and adjusting my saddle bags in my new role as a donkey.
Awaking from the plastic bed I hoped what had happened was a dream and I thought it might have been, till I opened my eyes to see my finger dislocated and pointing in a different direction and the small cry from underneath my bunk. Heading for breakfast, trying desperately to think of other forms of saying sorry, I was now fully committed to making sure everything was taken care of when it came to Erin. We also established that from now on any form of transport other than taxi and buses on a night out was a big NO NO!
We battled through and after trying to fit our smallest member, LBell in a suitcase, headed for the Red Light District. In the day time we expected something different, however it was very much how we remembered it from the night before, girls girls girls. It was interesting in a way how it was part of their culture and although I had only been there for a day now it wasn’t so much as a shock, it was just their way of life.
Our tour began at the Erotic Museum which was interesting to say the least. After walking round and finding out the history of eroticism we entered a room that reminded me of a children’s play area in a hospital ward. We took our seats on an individual toadstool and sat back to watch a film I can only describe as an X-rated version of Disney. Put it this way, I will never be able to watch Bambi again.
Moving on to the Hash Museum, I was shocked to see how many different kinds of cannabis there are. I was always under the impression cannabis was cannabis but apparently not, there are various different kinds.
Everywhere we looked it was coffee shops, sex shows and sex shops and after much deliberation we chose a nice little place on the canal front to experience our first ever peep show. Being “Girls” we preferred to go in pairs and as we entered our cosy booths it was the moment of truth. €2 for 2 minutes, what to expect? As the machine registered the money the shutter flew up to reveal a girl laughing, it was only after we realised that Skipper and LBell had provoked her as they pointed and went into a fit of giggles. What was disturbing about the whole experience wasn’t what was going on in front of us but that the walls were so thin you could hear what was going on next door. We took advantage of this and decided now would be an appropriate time for Skipper and myself to have a conversation about whether the girl was attractive or not.
Another Macdonalds later and we were starting to lag, especially after wasting half an hour watching a street entertainer do nothing but explain what he could do with a knife, a fockle and an apple. We headed back to the hostel where we enjoyed one more nap and another game of “try and fit a small person in a tight space.” This time we tried the cupboard but again with little success.
As most of you will know the tradition on holiday is to go for a final meal as a group on the last night. After changing the meeting time from 19:30 to 20:30 and finally settling on 21:00 we went to meet the “Super Seven” who had already taken advantage of the by one get one free on offer at the bar. The destination for our meal was a restaurant offering a pizza and drink for €8.50, naturally though I saw the chance to indulge and after being offered unlimited ribs and chips for €12 my mind was made up. Skipper took the chance to turn this into a competition and the atmosphere was now reminiscent to that of the late Wokmania. What we hadn’t been told was the unlimited ribs were capped at 2 plates, obviously because they had ran out, which left us with the chance to negotiate a free drink.
Leaving the restaurant at 23:30 the night was still young and we headed to experience a live sex show at The Moulin Rouge Erotic Club. The general consensus was that it was a bit expensive at €25 but it’s going to be the cheapest we could find. Erin had already shown her disgust in the extortionate prices but after a bit of persuading, “Small girl gets in for free” she was already getting a sticker placed on her breast before we had the chance to digest what had just happened.
We were placed at the back of the theatre but spotting some seats at the front Wheeldon, Bowles, Leebo and I ventured forward to get closer to the action. Unfortunately, the excitement of being close to the stage quickly wore off as Leebo pointed out he didn’t want to be shushed or knocked out by a flying roundhouse kick. So we picked up our drinks and, like underage teenagers in a club, headed back with our heads bowed.
The acts included candles, beads and a pen (I’m sure you can guess what happened) but the highlight of the show was the Banana act which included our very own travellers Chinese Bec and Erin who had to get their 5 a day from the nipple of the girl.
Despite Bowles’ enthusiasm a disappointing side of show was the couple act that, in the words of the “Girls” just “weren’t believable enough as a couple in the heat of passion.” With a front row seat you could see them chatting and joking away, not professional in my eyes. As well as that it was extremely uncomfortable when the guy made eye contact with me.
We left the club at 2:00 and headed home through the deserted Red Light District. With an early start and the return journey still to go we decided that we needed our sleep. After we avoided a man “aschking to use our phone becausch he wasch from Hamburg” and Worrall indulging in a bit of small talk, we called it a night.
The trip back remained sober as we kept the talking to a minimal, but the banter would erupt in bouts as Jon Day ranted about the lack of a tea set in his room and a collection of drunken tweets were read out. The final leg of the journey was even more relaxed with a film marathon including the great Notting Hill. As the bus pulled into Sheffield, only four days after it left, it was hard to think we had done so much in the space of such a short time.
From a personal point of view the trip was a success in every way. I established friendships that without trips like this would never have developed and saw Amsterdam in all its glory. I was undecided whether to go on JournoDam 2010 but I’m glad I did and I’m already excited about where the Journalist will go next.
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