is it any good, the man next to me asks. bit of an arrogant prick. i look at him and say no it's not terribly good, but then i wasn't expecting it to be. the typical fare, some mix of chardonay and viognier. too acidic, too fatty. but it will do for now. i show him the airline magazine and ask him if wouldn't like to buy usb key in the shape of a crystal heart.
in the airport, i manage to figure out how to buy the train ticket, but as i'm not going to the center, i can't figure out which track i'm supposed to go to and miss the train. doesn't matter. i just take a taxi. some driver swerves in front of us on the highway and the driver tells me he can't stand dutch drivers. i can't help myself and i laugh uproariously (really i do, it's not just so that i can use the word. the laugh just comes bubbling out of my chest. loud and full of good humour). i say well you're really out of luck man ...
L meets me at the door of the taxi, we throw my bag into some closet and and i get on his visitor bike because kitchens close early in amsterdam. we go to a lebanese place. the wine is not bad, but nothing special. well ok the second bottle (red) is actually quite good with what were eating. and the food is really good. grilled red peppers in pomegranate sauce, houmous with beets mixed in, raw lamb ... and that bottle of red is just right with raw lamb. the only unfortunate detail is the guy singing gypsy kings and besame mucho. i almost call the style police, but he is on the other side of the room and L and i are having too nice of meal to break all that up and have the entire staff sent fauxpas prison. L asks them 5 times to play some Ferouz (don't know if i'm spelling that right), but the waiter he is asking is not lebanese and doesn't know what he's talking about.
up till four in the morning. good conversation, some grappa and geuze, and extra chemical help. i only smoke one cigarette. yay. have a look at my slightly hungover amsterdammer head shot ;-)
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