Tripping at the Anne Frank house

This story is not of the best or worst time I’ve tripped and has nothing to do with taking a lot of drugs, or gaining a life lesson. In fact, I probably learned very little from this ordeal. Young, dumb, and full of cum – the only way to describe myself backpacking through Europe with several friends. We were typical loud Americans, drinking and getting ourselves into trouble in every country we went to. Four countries and a week into our journey, we arrive at the stoner Disney World… Amsterdam.

We are exhausted but have to celebrate legal smoking, so we find the first coffee shop and buy 4 grams for 5 of us, enough for each of us to roll a blunt. We smoke nearly all of them as other foreigners in the basement pass out from the strength. Now, anyone with geographical knowledge would have figured out that it would be cold in Amsterdam at night this time of year. They also would know that Amsterdam is filled with canals. Needless to say, we wound up nearly developing hypothermia trying to find a hostel in bitter rain, freezing cold and extremely high. Thank god for good beds.

The plan for the next day was to go to the Van Gogh Museum, take tons of pictures of the city, and make sure it did not look like we went to Amsterdam just to take drugs. It’s a beautiful city by the way, and should be enjoyed without substances. We wake up at 2, decide to pass the Van Gogh Museum, and see it closes at 5. We then find a random head shop and see they sell “mushroom spores.” Only one friend and I had taken mushrooms before, but we managed to convince the others to take a small amount. I split a gram with my friend, thinking that it will not do anything since the amount is so low. The other 3 also split a gram. If you haven’t had mushroom spores you probably think that amount is a joke. Previously I have ingested 4 grams of amazing mushrooms grown in America, and mixed various hallucinogens with MDMA, but it is what workers recommended.

We go to a park to ingest them and relax for thirty to see if anything will happen. Nothing does. So we go to the museum, but find we missed final entry (which was earlier then 5). The mushrooms are not doing anything, and we still want to get pictures for the parents. My friend suggests the Anne Frank House. Either we were completely sober or starting to feel the mushrooms and did not know it, but we comply. (Bear in mind from here that I am Jewish and if my mother found out this story she would kill me.) I suppose along the walk the mushrooms crept in because my friends are making obscene jokes like, “No wonder the Nazi’s took forever to get her, this place is impossible to find.” My mind is blank and the conversation’s turn doesn’t register as strange.

At the moment I got to the cashier everything started to morph. The walls began to droop and my mind started racing, thinking how terrible it was to take mushrooms and go to the Anne Frank House of all places. I am trying to assure myself that I can not be tripping hours after ingesting ½ a gram of mushrooms, but am already in a room listening to the story of Anne Frank with walls caving in and colors becoming distorted. I try to read something and realize the letters are all switching and moving around into a new cryptic language. So I look at my friend and try to not smirk when I say, “We really should not be here.” I see he is smiling and finally it clicks… we are tripping in the Anne Frank House! Imagine the feeling of having to puke after way too many drinks and trying to hold it in. Now replace drinking with hallucinogens and vomiting with hysterical laughing. I start frantically going through the building trying to keep a straight face. Finally I get to a thin staircase leading to the attic Anne Frank lived in. I am literally holding my mouth to keep myself from laughing. The air is thin and it is extremely stuffy. The woman in front of me passes out, probably due to lack of air. I uncover my mouth and shout “How many Jews is this house going to take?!” before running out.

I am not sure if people heard my shout or not, but cops and paramedics showed up quickly to the scene. I stood outside with a friend who also thought to get out as soon as possible. We smile at each other and can’t stop laughing. I remind him that we need to take pictures of Amsterdam for our friends and family.

The day goes by, with a lot of small stories, a lot of laughing throughout the city and more drugs throughout the day and night. My friend demands that he pets a horse mounted by an officer, and one of us has to drag him away after he starts to get too touchy. We go through a “hilarious” torture museum and tourist attractions. I am convinced my jacket looks like a trash bag and throw it away in the freezing cold. Shop owners drag us into stores and one convinces me to buy a jacket by dressing me like a child and asking for money. At night the red light district felt like being amongst aliens, and since we’re young and stoned we get way too much attention from the workers. Some side roads in the red light district get smaller as you go through them, being extremely confusing in our states when everything already seems to be moving closer and further. This meant that keeping distance from the brothels became increasingly difficult, and I will always remember the distinct feeling of two nearly naked women trying to grab opposite sides of me. I will also remember the confusion by more dodgy areas having “larger” women and some windows having red and blue lights above. (I have no interest in paying for sex, so walking through the red light district was enough of an experience.)

The next morning everyone wakes up still a bit confused. I ask my friend if we had any photos. Everyone is surprised to find that we do. Let’s just say, the first is of me smiling in front of the Anne Frank House with an ambulance right behind me, and they got worse from there. A few that were probably supposed to show a church clearly had strangers involved in drug deals. Most of them featured us hysterical laughing and ridiculous posing in front of police horses, prostitutes, and crazy people. Needless to say, we managed to finish the day without any photos to bring home to the parents.