Texan cops in Amsterdam
Once years ago I went to Amsterdam on my own for a week, I wanted to see how I would cope with being alone in a foreign city before I embarked on an extended period of travel. I wanted to see whether I could make friends and feel relaxed, I also love smoking weed so chose Amsterdam as the best place to test my social skills.
On the train in from Schipol, I thought I would experiment with making friends. There were two huge fat American’s with lots of tattoos, I struck up conversation. They had just arrived from Texas and were really excited about smoking something other than ‘Mexican dirt weed’, which was all they had access at home. I told them about the accommodation bureau at the train station and they where well up for splitting on a room and the going off to get high.
Once we were in a coffee shop, they both got really over excited. They knew very little about anything other than ‘Mexican dirt weed’ and were really keen to try everything they could lay their hands on. I was a veritable mine of information about red leb, temple ball, sensi etc. They didn’t know how to skin up a joint of resin, so were on at me to do the job for them. They really didn’t know very much about the wider world of weed and I was quite happy to impart a few pearls of wisdom and smoke their drugs.
The younger one was particularly enthusiastic and continually went off to buy yet another variety that he had read about in High Times magazine. He continually passed joints after one hit in traditional North American fashion and looked continually disappointed as the elder, fatter and more tattooed one and I smoked away. His protestation only brought belly laughs from his travelling companion that made his jowls shake.
They were brothers, I forget their names and serving Texan law enforcement officers. I was a little taken aback by this, I asked them about smoking weed and being cops. The elder Brother avoided a direct answer but told me how on a Sunday when they were on shift they liked to go out and find people having picnics and smoking a little weed in the sunshine. They would arrest them, cuff them, leave them in the sun whilst they smoked their weed, drank their beer and ate their picnic. After everything had been consumed they would release them and drive away.
Later that night they asked me to take a photo of them standing either side of the double bed they were sharing, it was covered in zip lock bags full of a vast selection of the world’s best marijuana. In the morning, I decided that it would be hard to meet anybody else in their company and said my goodbyes.