How I came to love the British

When we last left off, I was on my way to a V-Day Borrel on Rembrandt Square, wearing a satin red shirt and hot pink sneakers from the flea market. The first night time bike ride was harrowing, but I obviously survived. Upon completion of this journey, the adventure of your night began.

The ISN borrel was packed - a fire code violation in the making. I am way too short for the dutch, and was quickly lost in a sea of people until I got to the balcony like thing. Kristen cleared out within 10 minutes of getting through the door, and I followed shortly there after, to find her, Jackie, and Aaron planning to hop to the bar across the street. My jacket is the only one we can't find, but we decide to come back for it when the crowd clears out for the after party.

We end up at "Cafe Nasty," which an expensive bar (6.50 euro a drink) but has a stripper pole in the center of the dance floor. We don't stay all that long, and it's early in the night for pole dancing (for ourselves and the locals) and end up back outside. Here, fortune decided to shine upon our evening.

A delightful British guy asked me where a good bar is; we enter into a conversation about where to go, and where we're all from (all 3 of them were from Manchester) and I then decide to lead the newly combined group of them (Matt, Stew, and Brenden) and us (Me, Kristen, Jackie, Aaron) to a new bar. That doesn't work out, so we invite them to join the ISN afterparty. After loosing sight of them for a bit (in which I am in a fury over my missing jacket) we reunite on the corner of the dance floor. We are attempting to hold conversations over the music, eventually succumbing to dancing to some of the poorest examples of American music ever (bon jovi, cyndi lauper, um...I did not fly over 3000 miles for this bullshit). We kinda pair off, (which leaves one of the brits bouncing back and forth, pouting a bit), and Kristen insists she's leaving soon if they dont buy us drinks. I personally do not care to flirt my way into a drink, because A) I can buy my own drink, thank you; and B) Buying me a drink is going to get you gratitude and most likely, nothing else, and I will tell you that up front. She keeps asking me how you get guys to buy you drinks, and shes mentioning how she doesn't have money and how she's not drunk at all. I, being the magical being I am, am just chilling, talking about the music or politics (yes, politics at 130, in a bar), and Matt offers to buy me a drink. I have now inspired hatred in Kristen's heart, but hey free beer for Maria! (Side note: I will be questioned on how fast I drink that beer; I'm sorry, I'm american?)

So the night is progressing well; Matt is not creepy, he's (supposedly) only 25; they all leave Thursday morning, so it's a good time. We insist we are leaving at 2 AM (we both have 9 am class with half of the people on the dance floor at any given moment) and exchange some numbers in hopes of making plans for tomorrow (i.e. Wednesday night). We head outside for some air and to say our good byes, and fortune once again returns, this time to rain on our parade.

Matt, Kristen, Brenden and I are chilling on the stairs when we look up and witness a very ungraceful egress of a fellow CIEE student. We had already spent part of the night disowning our fellow CIEE females because of the rediculousness they were taking part in, so this only added to it. A lot of falling, stumbling, belligerent arguing, and the like commence in front of us. My roommate, who is trying to help out the girl, comes to stand with us, because most of the American girls present have found creepy men who now are stalking them. The drunken girl's friends all leave, and for some reason, me and Kristen are left with her. After I take her to the bathroom, get her back outside, and rationalize some actions, our British friends are bemusingly offering help, but now it's heading toward 3 am and my jacket is still missing. Conclusion: in a rage.

Segue: we went back to look for my jacket a third time, and literally as Kristen was like "Sweetheart, give it up, its gone" I found it. My blood pressure up until that moment was at highly unhealthy levels.

Unsegue, we part from the Brits, telling them to call us about tomorrow, and begin to move back toward Kristen and my bikes. I take mine, Kristen takes our friends, locking hers up (note: Kristen does not live near Rembrandt Square at all). Here, I am luckily freed from responsibility, as I have the furthest ride home, and I'm alone. Riding home at 3 AM through all the little side streets and bridges is pretty sweet, a moment of transcendence of society, if I may.

I arrive in Prinsengracht to find my roommate waiting up for me. We review the night's damage, discuss future plans for increased safety, and then call Kristen. She had managed to strong-arm the belligerent into a cab, and now was home - but with the other girl's bike. Shortly after 4 am, I crash.

7:30 AM - It does not feel as if I have been asleep at all. I shower, knock on Allie's door, manage to get my bike out of the basement (if you visit me, ask to see me do this, its f 'ing redic). I end up getting off track, because I'm avoiding the trams/buses/scooters/cars/crazy dutch bikers who do not value life and end up taking a side trip through the Red Light District. I am fortunate enough not to pass any day whores, for last time that happened, Lauren summed it up perfectly in one word: wildebeasts. That being said, the morning does not go all that smoothly, and of course, its raining.

As a result of all of the above and a conversation with a very impressive law student last weekend, I have made the executive decision to take on EU Law as independent study. Jaani said I can go to lecture or read the book, as long as I do one, (and write the paper) I can pass - and he seems like he'd know. So while I should be in EU Law now, being screamed at by the crazy woman, I am at PHK recounting my life's moments for others'enjoyment. Now I just really need to buy that book.