Getting high with my mates in a quiet playground,
the lot of us decided to get back to the pub and have another refreshing pint. Unfortunately, after my first two steps, the lawn started swaying like a flight simulator gone bad. As I ask my mate to the right of me for some support, the horizon suddenly flips about fifty degrees to the left and knocks me off my feet.

The next moment I open my eyes. My mates are sqatting around me, and I'm sitting on the pavement's edge with my head in my hands.

Nonetheless, I felt quite ok. Therefore, after a little check-up, we proceeded to the pub and had a wonderful evening. (I recall having laughed myself senseless at every word containing the subsequent letters 'arse'. Also, I managed to put both my ankles behind my head the same time.)

Years later, I recognized another bloke that was with us on that particular evening. At a school reuninon, he comes up to me and proudly utters: "Now I remember, you're the guy that passed out for about fifteen minutes!"

To my surprise, this story wasn't falsified by my mates. They even recall having considered the necessity of calling an ambulance. I was baffled.

When I asked them why they never told me, they simply replied: "We thought you knew." I guess Dutch weed really lives up to it's rep. Just avoid Amsterdam: they feed you the expensive, tourist quality crap there. It should be in your lonely planet somewhere.

Except for the one time that I couldn't recall crashing into a container with my bike (which I refused to believe until my completely fucked-up front wheel proved me wrong), this was the one and only black hole in my memory due to alcohol or drug abuse. Honestly.
(One of these things first, Mon 19 Dec 2005, 0:34, Reply)