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Nightlife & Reports

Around 10 p.m. on the evening before King’s Day I arrive at Amsterdam Central Station. The station is quiet, but when I walk outside the station, it is busy, but not that busy. I wander in the direction of Westerstraat, to me the heart of the Jordaan district. Some friends are having a beer in front of a second-hand store. Two hours later, we are getting the party started.

by Wil Groot - 04 June 2019

length: 4 min. Printer Friendly Page  
‘Drunk with Happiness’

Dit artikel is ook in het Nederlands beschikbaar
length: 4 minuten

With a can of beer in our hands, we dance to and sing along with popular Dutch singer René Froger. Breath-taking are the young men in their tight stretch pants, showing their physical attributes. My friends rate them. Seven stands for rimming. “It is striking that we, middle-aged men, especially appreciate boys with a full head of hair.” “Yes, and hairy buttocks,” one of my mates adds. At the Homomonument I lose my friends because a young Latin man throws himself into my arms. He is a great kisser, otherwise I would have walked on. The idea that many young people are attracted to older men is comforting.

At the Dirty Dicks I see one of my buddies with his left arm chained to an iron bar hanging above the bar, with his pants on his feet. In his right hand, he is holding a beer. His orange wig, the amount of alcohol and other substances do not exactly beautify his appearance, but nobody cares at that time. The other friend has flown, he had to leave. “He felt it was necessary to chain himself, but he did not realize that the handcuffs have been hanging there for years, and that the keys are lost,” says the bartender. Hilarious. Love Live the King!

Fortunately for him, the chain between the two can be cut, and he will have a new bracelet to remember the incident by. At the Queen’s Head on the Zeedijk, we are gracefully received by Coby, who immediately opens her wide bosom as a warm welcome.

Coby is a professional! “I think it’s remarkable that she can’t get enough of herself,” my mate says. “What do you mean?” “They are usually worn out after a few years of alcohol and drugs, but she continues to look great!”

The following afternoon I wake up in a strange bed. Next to me is an attractive guy in a dressing gown and with a cup of coffee. I can’t remember a thing. He tells me that my lights went out in the Queen’s Head and that he took care of me. A little later I step outside the apartment and see that I am still on the Zeedijk. We have breakfast at a diner on the Nieuwmarkt, and a little later it starts to pour.
line dancing at Zeedijk
Fortunately, only briefly. We are back on the Zeedijk, and at Café ’t Mandje, I see that Diana and DJ Dees are at it again. A street party is indeed the tradition, so Dees plays her beautiful Amsterdam tunes. People are even line dancing in the rain. The beers were already flowing abundantly. The benefit performance on behalf of the “Trotse Lesboot” was well received. People could also request their favorite song, which was translated by the deaf interpreter Erika Zeegers.

Dora Royaal with companyA few hours later we roamed along the canals, made a pit stop at Amstel54, after which we wandered on to the Homomonument and ended up in that good old Spijkerbar. We were met at the door by Dora Royaal, who literally dragged us in for her Bingo performance. She confiscated a bar stool for me and placed it next to the famous pool table, which bartender Jerry has been paying a lot of attention to lately, because balls have to shoot, he says with a dirty grin on his face.

He is wearing tight, very short pants and personally brings me a bucket of beer. His colleague is behind the bar stark naked and grins from ear to ear. As do the people at the bar, who mainly focus on his butt and large penis, around which a Leather Zip can be seen. It is a collector’s item at the moment. The Leather Zip, I mean, even though the bartender’s penis is highly sought after, but that aside. The majority of the proceeds go to the HIV Foundation.

Willem is sitting next to me, and together we tackle the bottle of beer. My Zeedijk friend went upstairs immediately and probably got lost there. Willem’s eyes are bright. His grin is contagious. Willem is over seventy years of age. “Tell your story, friend!” “I’m in love,” he answers giggling. “He is fifty-one and I am not drunk, but drunk with happiness. He has a beautiful muscular body and even lifts me up.” When he tells me this, I look at him and feel that his joy is contagious. “Becoming old is beautiful.” Meanwhile, Dora lets the bingo balls roll and plays with the male audience.

“The main prize is the naked bartender with Leather Zip, and you get Jerry if you have bingo on the first row.” Both bartenders play along. That is how my King’s Day comes to an end.



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