This is an old one but looking back I can't see why I've never told it. Possibly because of the statute of limitations but I can't think why that would be an issue.
In October 2013 I took a trip to Amsterdam. It was my first holiday sans family so I wanted to go somewhere that I'd never been before and this seemed as good an option as any.
Sadly I booked my tickets two days beforehand so the rooms were very hard to get at the hostel I wanted to go to so I had a tricky situation where I had to switch rooms halfway through. Either way it was the Flying Pig and by far one of the coolest places I have ever stayed.
I left in the early hours of the morning on the Eurostar to Brussels and had to catch my connecting train to Amsterdam Central Station. Everything went well and I boarded the train with time to spare. Sadly I was sat next to the only woman with a baby and the baby must REALLY not have been looking forward to the holiday as it was screaming the entire time.
Or so I assume because I spent most of the journey in the food cart doing battle with an absurdly hot croque monsieur in a constant lunge position due to the fact that the train was going at an absurd speed. Anyway I caught my connection after a brief and terrifying encounter with the the Brussels' train timetable.
I was greeted with what only can be described as a shitload of windmills. Like seriously. Windmills fucking everywhere. Like the scene with the grandpa from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang on steroids.
Either way after an uneventful train ride I reached the station and started the 20 minute walk to the hostel. For those twenty minutes I was Into The Wild. An oversized backpack on and the wind in my hair and trams up my arse. It was freeing in a way but the terrifying idea of having to make friends on this solo trip was freaking me out.
I got to my hostel and checked in. This kind woman behind the reception had written down my checkout day for me in a very confusing manner. But I went to my room nonetheless to be greeted by eight fast asleep Canadians and one not so asleep Canadian.
I introduced myself like the social butterfly I am and we promptly decided to go check out what Amsterdam had to offer. Which predominantly consisted of going to the Blues Brothers coffee shop across the road to enjoy the benefits of a more relaxed drug culture.
Inside we went upstairs and bought the weakest strain they had on offer as I didn't want to spend my time lying on the ground thinking of myself as sleeping beauty as I drifted off. I stupidly asked how much a ten bag was. I know, it's idiotic but hey, that's me after being up for 24 hours.
We left an hour or so later and went back to the room, his friends were currently at the Heineken brewery so we decided to sit by the bar and chat. The barmaid was also English so we got a few drinks for free and I felt like a celebrity.
His friends came back and I thought I'd give them some time to themselves. The man at the bar gave me some drinks so it would have been rude to refuse.
Either way when they told me they were going out and I decided to tag along I was fairly drunk and in-between I had taken advantage of the smoking room. I was enjoying life so to speak. We went out and decided to go to a gay bar as one of the group was gay and I had never been to a gay bar.
We stepped inside and what I found inside was basically the running gag for every Police Academy movie of the Blue Oyster bar. I was way out of my depth. They all seemed like lovely guys but I had never even owned a pair of chaps let alone seen them.
We hit the next place and after an hour or so I decided I had drunk too much and tried to head back to the hostel. Tried.
This was a great idea. Stumbling down the streets of a foreign country with no idea where I was going and no-one knowing I was gone.
Luckily I had the bright idea of hailing a taxi.
This was my error. Probably one of the worst mistakes I've ever made.
In a flash a black BMW pulled up. It looked way too expensive for a taxi but this was another culture so I thought, what the hell. I got inside and there were two guys in the front seat.
Of course I think this is normal.
They ask for 25 euros up front before we've even moved.
Of course I think this is normal.
They ask for another 25 after we start moving.
Sadly this is the only moment in the night my brain kicks in and thinks this whole situation is weird. And I remember there is nothing on this car to signify it's a taxi. Nothing. I'm a British tourist being kidnapped in a foreign country. I'm a Daily Mail article waiting to happen. The comments section would be filled with people blaming the Tories for absolutely no reason.
So I say I have to get out. I feel ill. Of course these guys don't want to rob me of 100 euros and have to clean out a car. So they stop and I get out and start walking away as fast as I can with wobbly legs and wet cobbles beneath me.
End of the situation. I did something stupid and I paid for it in money. Far less than a lot of people.
Not so.
The passenger climbs out and start running after me. He is very athletic, I am not. He grabs me by the shirt. At which point the car is well on it's way, reversing up the road towards me. I turn around and put on my serious face and tell him he better let go. I'm not giving him any more money or I'm going to beat the crap out of him.
I turn and run, throwing caution to wind I go as fast an I can. Usain Bolt in the making of course I run past several women in windows with dead eyes. The man keeps running after me but I'm away. I'm gone. Like dust in the wind. I have a stitch, and have to stop.
Who would have thought poor health would be the reason I left this planet early.
The man catches up to me and grabs me. Telling me I owe him money. Now I'm not a financial expert but I assume that 25 euros for 100 metres of travel is overpaying. I tell him to let me go or I'm going to release the Hulk. Apparently this doesn't cross the language barrier because who isn't scared of the Hulk?
Either way I struggle like Houdini and shove him off of me.
He let's go and calls me names you wouldn't find in the phone book. The driver who pulled up beforehand is looking through the rear window as this is happening with a look on his face that I could only describe as pure hatred.
I turn and walk. Slowly. It looks as if it's with purpose but really it's so I don't trip and fall.
I find my way back to the hostel to be greeted with my Canadian friends asking what happened. I mumble the word kidnapping and fall asleep. Which pretty much describes the entire trip.
On the other hand did you know that Amsterdam puts mayonnaise on their chips like ketchup? I've seen 'em do it, man. They fuckin' drown 'em in that shit.
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