Drunken BN-er

Amsterdam, 2010. Across from me at the bar sits an incredibly handsome boy staring into space. Even from a few metres away, the beautiful eyes he has in his head cannot be missed. Although I personally am not easily impressed by anyone, I catch myself looking at him all the time.

Sometimes we seem to have eye contact, but given his motor skills, he is already pretty far gone and looks ahead without seeing anything.

My friend Anouk who dragged me along tonight sits next to me. She comes here often, unlike myself. I am here for the first time.

'Who is that?" I ask curiously.

' Now that's the guy I was telling you about the other day. He was on TV just last week!'

Double tongue

Indeed, she did mention something about him once, but I had no idea who she was talking about. Because I often work in the evenings, I don't watch much television. Soap series, talent shows, films, everything passes me by at the moment. Whether the handsome gentleman across the street is an actor, singer or presenter, it will. In any case, I now know what he looks like: wildly handsome!

Anouk knows him pretty well, she drinks a beer or a wine with him more often. Here, in his regular pub. Tonight, he apparently needs something stronger, drinking whisky like lemonade.

' I hadn't even seen him yet, definitely just come in. Come, I'll introduce you to him'.

Well. Again, this is not necessary. Just watching is fun too. But Anouk is already halfway across the bar on her way to the other side. She is already standing next to him when I have yet to get moving. The pretty boy greets her exuberantly with a close embrace and three kisses. Anouk beckons to me. 'Come on then, silly!'

Reluctantly, I walk in their direction. Talking about nothing is not for me and drunk people certainly not. So I am not here tonight for myself. Anouk wanted to go on a manhunt. Just for fun, she asked me along and since I had already said no the last three times, I said yes again this time.

I turn out to be right. The boy is big on oil. Insanely handsome, but shit-lazy. He says his name, gives me a hand and immediately three kisses. He shouts something I don't understand; a double tongue and loud music is an awkward combination.

Toilets

Next to the drunken boy stands a man. It turns out to be his manager. When the music falls silent, we can finally speak to each other normally without shouting.

'Um... what's your name again?" I ask drollly.

'Ha ha ha!' his manager laughs exuberantly. 'That's a good one!'

Apparently, everyone knows the pretty drunk guy except me.

Although, the drunken boy doesn't seem to remember it all himself. Faltering, he walks towards the toilets. In passing, his manager slaps him on the shoulder.

'No doing things I wouldn't do either huh!" he calls out lollipopily.

Then he pays his bill and goes home.

What a dick.

When Anouk and I have seen it in this bar and decide to look a bit further down the road, I have to go to the toilet first.

As we walk into the hallway to the toilets while chatting and laughing, we suddenly see the beautiful drunk boy half slumped on the floor against the wall. He seems to be asleep. People step over him, not giving him a glance.

Even his manager left him completely to his own devices.

'This really can't be happening,' says Anouk. 'Come Naat, we'll take him home, I can't watch this.'

I agree with her. While it is of course his own fault that he is in this state, I also understand that Anouk, as a close acquaintance, cannot just leave him be. Waking him up, however, proves to be quite a task.

Fortunately, the pretty drunk boy is not too big or heavy. If we each manage to get him on his feet on one side, he actually comes to his senses a bit. With the beautiful drunk boy between us, we manage to reach the outer door foot by foot.

Mansion

'He lives near here,' Anouk knows.

Between us, the pretty drunk boy calls out his address unsolicited. Although he has the hiccups, he seems to be regaining some sanity.

Then he turns to me.

'Where ... hiccup ... are you from?'

'Krommenie.'

The beautiful drunk boy smiles exposing his beautiful white teeth. He stares lovingly at me. He loves everyone at the moment, it seems. At least he doesn't have an evil drunk, which makes a difference.

'Neej ... I mean ... hiccup ... you rootzz. Are you Dutch?'

After I explain to him as succinctly as possible where my grandparents are from, he wants to know what kind of work I do.

'I write.'

'And she lays tarot cards,' adds Anouk.

The boy looks happily surprised.

'I want that,' says the beautiful drunk boy. 'I want that!'

'Can hear, she always has them with her, right Naat?'

It's true. I always have a pocket-size tarot deck in my bag.

The beautiful drunk boy looks from Anouk to me again.

'I want that! Those cards! I want that!'

He makes me laugh in awe. Although I usually find besotted people terribly irritating, this boy, besides being beautiful and drunk, is also sweet and funny.

'Then we'll do that.'

‘Yesss baby....‘

The boy is happy.

'Do you even know what tarot cards are?' I ask, just to be sure.

'Echwel! I'm sssuuuper spritual!'

After almost three-quarters of an hour of walking over a stretch that we could have easily walked through in 20 minutes if one of us had not been lame as a baton, we finally arrived at his residence. Turns out he lives in a huge mansion. Despite his drunkenness, he gets his key in the lock fairly quickly.

Tarot reading

Since I still haven't been to the toilet since we saw him sitting on the floor by the toilets in the hall, I really need to go by now.

'May I use your toilet for a moment?'

'Sure. Be my guest.’

The toilet is in a stairwell. When I ask how many people he has to share this with, he looks at me not understanding.

'Sharing?'

'Your toilet. How many people do you share the toilet with?'

'With no one?'

'Do you live here alone?'

Sure. Dizzis my house anyway.'

For the second time that night, I am deeply impressed. Like he lives in a flat by himself! His stairwell is similar to that of the flat block where I live myself. Only that is a public space and this is all his alone. Truly never seen anything like it. At least, not in real life.

When I enter the living room, Anouk and the beautiful drunk boy sitting at the dining table are already eagerly awaiting the reading. Anouk is pretty much addicted to the tarot. Unfortunately for her, it will not be her turn tonight.

The beautiful drunk boy takes the stack from me. As best he can, he tries to shuffle the cards. He appears to be struggling with several problems, all of which he wishes for a solution. In the end, he still manages to ask one focused question.

After I spread out the cards in front of him on the table and put the five cards he chose in a pattern in front of him, I try to interpret them for him as briefly and clearly as possible.

When I use the cards to give him the answer to his question and provide him with appropriate advice, he actually seems to understand what to do to solve this problem as soon as possible.

Now just hope he can remember it all tomorrow....

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