New Years Eve in Amsterdam (Part III)

This is the 3rd post in a series (New Years Eve in Amsterdam).


Bas and I were talking and I was getting thirsty. I had forgotten my beer by my seat. The obvious solution was to go get it, but before I could Bas gave me his extra that was sitting on a ledge next to us. He was a drunk with foresight. I like that.

Eric noticed we were having fun, so he got up and joined us. Eventually Martin and Frank got up and joined us too. So there we were, five grown men standing and drinking beer on one side of the room, and three woman talking and sitting on the couch on the exact opposite side. Sexual segregation. I felt like I was back in Jr. High. I pointed out the situation to the boys. At first we saw the humour in it and laughed, but then it just seemed sad and pathetic. So, we sat down to mix it up.

The girls were talking about television. Wendy mentioned that I don’t watch TV, which isn’t accurate. I watch TV if it’s around; I just don’t want it around. Annette excitedly spun around, “So you don’t watch TV. Either do I.” She liked me. It was in her eyes, smile, and everything about her. We continued to talk about our distaste for TV and progressed onto the things we enjoy. I talked of poetry and partying; she talked of hanging out with friends.

As midnight approached, Bas started passing around champagne glasses and bottles. We were all standing, full glasses in hand, wondering when to start the countdown. The New Year was arriving and I wanted to be next to Wendy when it happened, but we were separated by Annette. I wasn’t sure what to do. The answer seems logical enough: ask Annette to switch places. But it wasn’t clear to me.

First of all, Wendy had been distant the whole evening. The one time she actually acknowledged my existence was when Jasperina got up to let Annette in. That left Wendy sitting on the couch by herself. Our eyes met, she gave me a quick, fakeish smile – the kind you give a passing stranger on the street - then looked away. Did she even want me to stand next to her at midnight? Besides that, I didn’t want to hurt Annette’s feelings. We had only been talking a little while, but it seemed there was some implicit agreement between us, and by asking to be next to Wendy, I was breaking it. I hoped Wendy would make the move and rescue me from my dilemma, but as the remaining moments of the old year fell away, it became clear that wasn’t going to happen. I pushed off the decision as long as I possibly could, waiting until the last possible second. If the countdown had started at twenty, we would have been at eleven. The fog in my mind cleared; the answer was obvious; I asked Annette to switch places. Wendy seemed happy and I wondered what all the confusion was about.

Midnight, yells, bangs, hugs, and kisses ... “Gelukkig Nieuw Jaar.”

Continued in Part IV.


Tags: travel, journal, Amsterdam

New Years Eve in Amsterdam (Part II)

This is the second in a series (see New Years Eve in Amsterdam).

At first the party was a bit stiff – lots of new faces trying to make polite conversation. But Dutch people are great hosts – you’re never without a full drink in your hand. So I suspected it was only a matter of time until we all loosened up.

I was sitting in a chair between the couch, where the three women sat, and the arc of chairs, where the five men sat. I spent my time talking with Martin and Frank. We eventually got onto the topic of movies. Martin asked me which was my favorite. “Ummm…I don’t know…I like a lot of movies…1984, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind… I don’t really have a favorite.” Then he asked Frank. “I don’t watch movies,” Frank replied.
“What?!? You’re an architect. You have to watch movies. It’s all visual,” Martin said in a brash tone.
Frank and I looked at each other. We were both thinking the same thing. Then Frank said it: “Guess I’ll have to look for a new line of work.” We both laughed. Martin didn’t see the humor in it. Poor Martin.

So, I decided to ask Martin. “What’s your favorite movie?”
"Well, The Untenanted Plains of Western America and The People Who Loved Them is my favorite historical western, Latent Tendencies Among Urban Residents of New Hampshire is my favorite documentary..." He continued to name obscure titles of every genre, “The Incredibly Strong Creatures who Stopped Living and Became Wandering Lonely Zombies is my favorite horror flick, The Progenitors of The Androgynous Masters of Xenoplatopia is my favorite science fiction movie...” By this time Frank had subtly switched over to talking to Bas and Eric. I wished I was too.

Martin continued on for some time apparently not noticing my lack of interest. The usual signals were of no use – the short, quick answers - “mmm hmmm”; the wandering eyes in a desparate search for distraction; and even the occasional yawn. But he continued on. He was unshakable.

The topic eventually exhuasted itself and we sat there mostly speechless. I like Martin, but he’s not the best conversationalist in the world. I’m not either, which made the situation that much more unbearable. The short bouts of conversation were broken-up by long moments of uncomfortable silence as I fished around my skull for something to fill the void. He was doing the same. Both of us drowning in a sea of self-consciousness and social ineptitude, looking for some topic of conversation to grasp onto, drowning, suffocating.

Somehow we managed to survive.

The small talk continued among the boys: Bas, Eric, Martin, Frank, and I. The girls were over on the couch talking up a storm. My attention wandered here and there, drinking more beer, trying to get in a more social state of mind. I noticed some lights blinking off the red brick building across the street. I decided to investigate. It was the reflection of fireworks from the street below.

As I turned around Bas jumped out of his seat and started talking to me, beer in hand. He was drinking them as fast and furious as I. I liked him already. We bypassed the smalltalk and went onto more interesting topics like serendipity and fate. I don’t recall the details, but we were lightening up and having a good time. And so the ice was broken.

Continued in Part III.

Tags: travel, journal, Amsterdam