Waking up in Amsterdam!

Last night was a beautiful evening in Amsterdam.  The day’s weather had been perfect, sunny and warm, and given that it was a Sunday too, everyone was out.  I was enjoying myself with friends and acquaintances.  We were sat along the bar at my local and chatting casually amongst ourselves.  And then suddenly, an unstoppable force arrived.  A woman stepped up, introduced herself, and started talking.

And talking.

And talking.

Friends’ faces said it all.  Who is this lady, and is she completely crazy?

It wasn’t long before I was the only one left.  Crazy lady was still talking and I was trying my hardest to be polite.  But in a surprisingly short period of time all my patience was gone.  One story about, something, segued into another about, nothing, and I just couldn’t take it.

“Excuse me, sorry to interrupt,” I said, holding up my hands in the universal ’stop’ gesture.  “But what is the point of what you’re saying, and how should I react appropriately to it?”

“What?  You don’t have to react. “  She said, confused.

“Ah, so then if my response isn’t important why are you telling me all this?” I inquired, impolitely.

“What?  Oh, did I not mention that I just did a line of cocaine?” she asked.

“No, no you didn’t and may I suggest that you should start with that.  The conversation is much easier to follow now that I know you’re on coke.”

“Really?  Does it show?”

I explained it did.  It really really did.  I didn’t explain that everyone else had left to escape her chatter.  Nor did I mention that the first impression of her was of a crazy lady.  And we’re not talking “bungee jumping” kinda crazy.

As a parting idea, I choose to share some advice based on what she had been talking about.  “Whatever you do,” I said,” Just don’t show up to your [upcoming] job interview on coke.  Trust me on this.”

“Really?”  She was incredulous to the idea.  She couldn’t imagine that the cocaine wasn’t making her a better person, more desirable for hiring.  She was sure that her stories were lighting up the room!

I shrugged.  What could I tell her?  Cocaine’s like that.