How to Disappoint Your Friends When You Get Back From Amsterdam
When my friends heard that I was going to Amsterdam, they were excited. Possibly more excited than I was. Confident that I would finally become a devotee to the herb they had grown familiar with in our somewhat stereotypical art school days, they watched me pack my bags and waved me off, giggling behind their hands, shrouded in a suspicious-smelling perfume.
Once there, my fellow traveler and I had trouble finding enough time to eat dinner before passing out for the night, let alone frequent any establishments that served alcohol or, perhaps more importantly to some, marijuana.
The result of this was: upon our return, they demanded I tell all, winking slyly when I said I didn't have any juicy stories involving the red light district or any of those famous coffee houses.
"So what did you do?" "Well...I had a lot of really good cake."
And let's be honest. Why waste money when you can skip the undignified bits and go straight for the sweets?