Red Light Adventures- Amsterdam Story Time
When innocent evenings end up memorable
After each passing year, one comes to realize that the relationship between a mother and daughter is unlike any bond. A bond consisting of various milestones slowly revealing the transformation of the relationship.
A shift from nurturing caretaker to your arch enemy. A realization of your similarities and shortcomings. Then in certain relationship progressions, friendship. Each of these stages has a time and place, and each has a way of unearthing undiscovered personality facets. Now one could drone on for ages about the beauty of the mother-daughter relationship bond, but that will not happen here.
Instead, this is a retelling of a specific milestone. One that marks the changing of the relationship dynamic, more specifically an event that could only occur in Amsterdam, and only after one has exhausted the traditional touristic activities that happen when parents visit your new city of residence.
This past spring on my mom's annual European visitation we were at a loss of activities. The tulips were seen, the apartment was unpacked, errands run, museums visited, what was left to do? It was time to enlist external assistance from one of my best-friends/ pretend adopted brother who also lives in Amsterdam.
A word of warning when selecting personal "tour guides" (friends) in Amsterdam. Activities one deems appropriate can be entirely subjective. Additionally, friends can take pleasure in reactions and joy from the shock factor.
Of course, my selected friend loves pushing... expanding... people's boundaries. And of course, that is exactly why the friendship exists.
Under the guise of getting Thai food at Bird in the Chinatown neighborhood of Amsterdam, a pre-dinner walk with a quick tour of the Red Light District was proposed.
Sure, that seemed harmless enough. Walking around in the Red Light can provide mild amusement, plus we were not yet fully hungry. Negligible entertainment aside, one must hope that it is not complete wall-to-wall tourists and drunken British bachelor party groups before deciding to just meander around de Wallen.
We decided to stroll into the Red Light District and out of nowhere we conveniently arrived at the Sex Palace Peep Show, a personal favorite of my friend to show guests visiting Amsterdam.
As if on cue we arrive right on time for the couple show, this became obvious from the large crowd curious about satiating their voyeuristic desires transpiring behind closed doors. If it was planned the timing wouldn't have been so perfect.
Upon arrival, we were greeted by a group of spring-breaking American frat boys fresh off their trans-Atlantic flight. This painfully obvious realization stemmed from their initial question being, "do you speak English?" Sure that is forgivable and could be an honest question, but the tattered boat shoes, golf polos, and blatant cluelessness confirmed my assumptions and produced an urge to help them. All while also wondering why they would shamelessly ask for help on how to go about visiting the peep-show room.
"So do you just put in a one dollar coin?" "Are there women in there?"
Myself being annoyed was debating lecturing how there are not dollars in the Euro-zone, but I bit my tongue. My mother on the other hand shifts into a peep-show connoisseur and expertly guides them through the intricacies of how to put in a euro to see the couple, all the while she is unaware of what the "couple" means. I am amused by her effortless ease of facilitating testosterone-fueled Americans to accomplish their goal of acquiring European cultural awareness. This amusement quickly shifts to mild disgust stemming from a quick sideways glance and realizing that there is an overflowing trash bin of used partially crumpled tissues over in one of the porn viewing rooms.
I start to wonder whose job it is to empty the trash bin of wasted sperm bank donations.
We flee from the Americans, delving deeper into the room of potential sin filled with multiple unassuming doors each displaying their vacancy status. Pushing away a slight crowd of eager tourists we spot a man leaving a room. My friend pounces, disregarding everyone around, and swiftly produces a 2 euro coin.
His reactions were quicker than our processing time and before we know it the three of us are cramped in a dark small compartment room and the window reveals a couple having sex in front of us.
"Why is the man so ugly?"
My mom's only comment, which I pondered, then I realized the current situation. In a dark room technically designed for one person, my mom next to me, my friend laughing watching our reactions, the faces of the other peepers peering mesmerized through the window, and a man and a woman in leather fetish-wear fornicating live.
Yes, that was a new milestone. Yes, it was memoerable. Yes, we still went out for Thai.
