I can only presume Mowgli was lightening on the volleyball court:
New Zealand are playing rugby again today, so it's not long before, he's off to start another beer session. I have more pressing engagements. Cut myself a furry red beard and dye a pair of Y-fronts orange.
I'd like to point out at this stage that neither I nor Mowgli owned a pair of Y-Fronts and we have a Czech Tesco receipt to prove it.
By the time a very tired looking Mowgli returns from Amstelveen, I have all the preparation done and all thats left to do is to paint ourselves our respective colours. I've already tested that he paint works, and that it washes off reasonably easily once it's dry.
We quickly get a bite to eat and then stand in the kitchen and rub ourselves down. At one point while we are rubbing down each other's backs, I realise what a strange site it must be with a big yellow man rubbing down a small Indian boy. Even though this is Amsterdam, it still has to one of the stranger fetishes they've seen.
Once we're ready, we've decided too go into the centre and join The Kiwi for a post rugby drink. It will also give us a chance to wander around the centre as Willy and Mowgli. We get on the tram:
It's wonderful. If the tram had been a bus it would have been off the road, because the girl driving the tram completely lost it once she saw us. We got on and took our seats. It was like being in kilts, where some people ignored and some people laughed along with you. The woman driving even whistled through the Tannoy at us. It's looking like it's going to be a fun night.
After a quick bum flash to the driver, we get off at Dam Square and head towards Susie's where The Kiwi's drinking. It's good fun at first, but the mood isn't quite as high as ours is, so we only stay for one pint. This makes us early for the party, but we head along anyway for want of a better place to go.
The party is near the Amstel station, so it's another tram trip and then a little walk across the Amstel river. We pass the odd pedestrian, but it's later now, so people really are keeping their eyes down when they see us.
When we walk in the club, it's completely empty. There are just a few people there already - their costumes don't come close to ours, and I have to explain to everyone who groundskeeper willy is. The Simpsons doesn't seem to have very high viewing figures among students in The Netherlands.
We sit at the bar and start on drinking pitchers of beer:
It's a far stretch from the beer we were drinking last night - but this is student life now.
Mowgli is freezing as the club hasn't warmed up yet. We drink away as various arrivals come up and laugh at our costumes. My red furry beer is starting to smeel off beer, and its getting heavier and heavier and slipping off my face. I've stopped adding extra glue, as I was starting to worry I was gonna get high on the fumes.
Eventually the club has filled, and just about everyone we know is there, we are pretty well oiled, but we still can't start dancing cos the music isn't up to much. They are playing bad 80's hits interspersed with unknown(to us) Dutch music. It's a bad state of affairs, because past experience tells Mowgli and I that it has to either be extremely cheesy music or headbanging music for us to make it to a dancefloor. We need to do something about it, as the night will end quickly if we continue downing these pitchers of cheap beer without sweating some of it out.
Mowgli goes and has a word with the DJ. The DJ isn't quite convinced, but he plays the first song Mowgli suggests, and we are straight on top of the table at the side of the room. Everyone surrounds the table, and Groundskeeper WIlly and Mowgli start dancing like nutters for a while. The DJ takes his cue, and realises that it's gonna be a better night if he takes our advice.
From this point on, our beer is pretty much free. We've turned it from a mediocre club night, into one where everybody is dancing. Various other people join us on the table for songs, that mean something to them, or more to the point they know they can dance to. At one point Mowgli arranges with the dutch guys that he's going to do a stage dive and crowd surf. He always wanted to be Eddie Vedder, and his lack of musical ability, or at least a band to sing to means he lives out the fantasy at an possible convenience:
He stage dives, and then crowd surfs around the room for a while. He then encourages me to do the same. I am slightly larger than he is, so the first time I attempt it, the 8 guys buckle, and I make it back to the stage without falling off, a few more volunteers arrive and soon, the kilted yellow man is also crowd surfing.
We are now dancing on the stage until we get knackered, and then sitting the odd song out to refresh ourselves with the free beer.
By now, I've finally succumbed to sanity and removed the red beard and bald wig. It's much more fun dancing drunk with long hair if you can swing it about a bit.
It's now well into the wee hours, and 9pm seems like not that long ago, when we had entered this cold club; Mowgli with erect nipples from the cold.
The night is not yet over however, as Mowgli has a few tricks left up his sleeve to stop the night going stale. He's asked the DJ to play "Baby take off your hat" from the Full Monty soundtrack:
Mowgli is up on the stage before I recognise the song. He's only wearing orange Y-Fronts, so he's miming taking off his clothes. There's not much I can do except join him - It's amazing what cheap beer and camaraderie will do for your bravado. I'm soon up on the stage with him. Rushing to catch up with the song. Mowgli is hopping tables trying to find a woman with a hat as a prop. He has to fight it off someone dressed as a cowboy. Luckily, I have the kilt as a prop. We strut our stuff for the song, and are eventually standing starkers looking upon the screaming audience. Mowgli poses in my sporran for a while and we get brought some pitchers of beer:
I thought i might be a wild weekend, but it surpassed even my imagination.
We've pretty much peaked, so we leave the table dancing to our proteges. I get outside for a breather and talk to The Space Cadet for a while. It's now about 5am, and people are starting to go home. Mowgli and The Space Cadet don't take much convincing that they aren't gonna be playing much volleyball tomorrow, and we head off to find a taxi back to my place.
I'm sober enough to get in a shower and waash the yellow paint off me that hasn't been sweated off. When I come out The other two are out cold in the living room. I have to almost carry Mowgli into bed, he's that tired. I think it must have been the volleyball, cos I know he can handle the drinking and the dancing.
We fall asleep to the strains of Camp Freddy radio once again, but I don't think any of us hear much of it.
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