Lentil's First Sex Show

After a couple fo days in exciting Rheine I hopped on a train and headed down to Kaiserslautern to see my old friend A and her family. I've know A since the 11th grade and she joined the Air Force a year after I joined the Navy. She stayed in and has been stationed in Germany for about four years. I hadn't seen her in about three so it was pretty fun hanging out and seeing her and her four kids for a couple of days. I sure wish I'd visited before I got knocked up, though. Visiting a house with four kids ages 8 months to 14 years is the best birth control in the world!!!

After a couple of days hanging out in Kaiserslautern we ditched the kids and A and her husband and I drove up to Amsterdam to meet Q for Memorial Day weekend. If you've never been to Amsterdam, you should go. It's a great city to walk around, hang out with a beer or coffee at a sidewalk cafe, and just watch people. There is also a lot of culture there - the Van Gogh Museum and Rijksmuseum and all sorts of stuff to make you think if that's what you're into.

Of course, we weren't into thinking so we met up with Q (who was working on worsening his gout), grabbed dinner and headed for the famous Red Light District. Here's a picture of Lentil on her first trip to the district, isn't it cute?With daylight fading and all of my traveling companions sufficiently lubricated, we perused the streets of the red light district in search of a live sex show. You don't have to look far as there are salesmen outside every show trying to get you to come in to see the show. My favorite guy had an auctioneer-like quality about him when he rattled off the contents of his show in under 3 seconds: "F******, sucking, smoking, blowjobs, banana, 25 euros, 2 euro beers." Seriously, say it 10 times fast out loud in a nasaly voice with a Dutch accent and you'll get the picture. A found the guy less than charming so we moved on until Q recognized the glowing pink elephant that signifies the most popular live sex show in the red light district. Of course, there was a line outside and it was 15 Euros more than the auctioneer's place but we went in anyhow. After about a 20 minute wait we got in to the show. A wanted to sit in the very front row. If you know A, you know there's no point arguing with her when she's sober, let alone drunk. So I headed to the front row with my three drunk companions. The front row was so close that our knees were literally up against the stage.

There's a reason no one sits in the front row at a sex show: It's gross in the TMI, holy-cow-I-didn't-know-they-came-like-that kind of way. Everything is happening just a foot or two in front of you, right at eye level, and you can practically smell the latex. And let me tell you, the beautiful people of the world are for some reason not drawn to live sex performances as a career. Their parachute color is not red...

In case you don't know what goes on in a sex show, there are several "acts" wherein the performers do various things from smoking cigars to chopping bananas to shooting ping pong balls and making change with their body parts, in addition to more conventional heterosexual sex with men with enormous genitalia that will make all audience members seem inadequate, a smattering of oral sex, and an occassion lesbian encounter. Literally something for everyone. Each act lasts about the length of one song and involves some dancing or attempt at role play to give it some substance. After all, we all want our live sex to be meaningful, don't we?

We eventually gained entrance and walked in on the first act which was basically a stoic-looking woman playing with a light-up dildo. Nothing too special so I spent much of my time just watching the bed spin on stage and noting the shoddy appearance of things, contemplating what diseases I might be contracting but then deciding the cigarette smoke had no doubt asphexiated any living organism in the place. You have to remember that I was completely sober, it was late, and Lentil was present. Not exactly how you want to be when some one is playing with a glow stick a few feet in front of you.

After the first act Q and I were discussing moving back a row or two when, I'm not kidding here, the Batman theme song started playing. In case you don't remember, there has been a Batman theme in my life for sometime. Click here, here, here, and here for a refresher on past references to Batman on this blog.

So the Batman theme starts playing, the original TV one, and a large black man in a mask, cape, buttless chaps, and what appeared to be a faded Batman logo half-shirt came prancing across the stage in search of the woman who was presumably his catwoman for the night. Q and I looked at eachother and just laughed. What are the odds we would pick a sex show in Amsterdam featuring Dutch Black Porno Batman (DBPB)? I wish I could have taken my camera in. Even better was the fact that DBPB has his arse pointed directly at our friend B, who's face was approximately two feet away from said cheeks whilst DBPB received fellatio from a Catwoman that spent much of the act yawning and rolling her eyes waiting for her shift to end. I was quite impressed when Catwoman laid on the rotating bed giving DBPB a BJ while he sidestepped around with the bed. They must have worked on that one a while.

Soon after DBPB we saw a woman smoke a cigar with her hoo ha while laying back on the spinning bed in the middle of the stage. She blew rings and everything but looked incredibly bored with the whole thing. I wondered what her OBGYN might think when he discovers she's got nicotine-related cancer cells in her cervix?

Q and I eventually moved back a ways. A and B sat gape-mouthed, apparantly enjoying the show. To me it was boring, mechanical, and not the least bit enjoyable. One act had two people having sex and changing positions to the beat of the music. It was like dancercize mixed with sex and if you listened you knew they at least had rhythm. Later some girl came out with a guy in a monkey suit but didn't even do the banana trick. What a rip off!

Q and I had seen enough and headed back to the hotel. It was about 2 am. A and B didn't get back until about 4 am and later reported enjoying the show very much. Different strokes...

Note to readers: Do not sit in the front row of a live sex show stone cold sober while pregnant. It might make you question your abilities as a parent.

The next couple of days we all slept in then Q and I hit the Van Gogh Museum (all the good stuff is out on loan to other museums!) and the Rijksmuseum (under construction with only 10% of exhibits open), and just walked around the city. If you go, be sure to hit the Leidesplein and Centraal Plaza where there are always street performers and vendors of things unique to Amsterdam. For example, this is a lady who sold us some "original" watercolors for Lentil's bedroom. She was kind enough to tell us what she was thinking when she sold us them, and even signed and dated them for free. We were quite happy with our original work of Amsterdam street art until we saw the same painting with another vendor the next day. Watch out for her, she is a sweet talker and hangs out at Leidesplein on weekends...

We also hit Centraal Plaza, saw some Dutch breakdancers who were quite good, watched a guy juggle fire while riding a unicycle, and then I noticed this:

Yep, that's a guy dressed as The Mask in the middle of the center of Amsterdam. No, I didn't ask why. I just thought it was strange.

Oh, and if you're looking for a great hotel with an awesome location in Amsterdam, try the NH Schiller on Rembrandplein. It's on a busy square right across from the famous statues of Rembrandt's The Night Watch. Any hotel on the square would probably be cool. In fact, here's our motley crew with The Night Watch one day:I'm the short one whose pants barely fit. You know why? Because I was in denial that I am pregnant until I woke up one morning in Amsterdam and my belly had finally "popped":Seriously, I felt my ligaments stretching all day while Q and I went museum-hopping and I woke up the next morning looking pregnant. No more denial for me now...

On that note, I flew home the next day and found not only was my belly huge, I had developed cankles. I blame Q, Lentil and Batman.