The Absence Of Something

Contributed by Dan Lester on 21/11/08

“Did you know that this was the first pub in Amsterdam to serve foreign beers? They started doing that in 1974.”
“What did you do, read that on their website?”
“How did you know that?”
“I was taking the piss.”
“Oh.”

They were sat in Cafe Gollem, drinking beer and trying to convince themselves that they were a having a good time. So far neither of them had been successful, but that was understandable given the circumstances of their trip- a week of debauchery in Amsterdam to take their minds off the fact that both their marriages had recently collapsed. Of course, part of the problem was that neither of them liked each other that much. If it was not for the fact that their wives had been sisters then they probably would never have met. And if they had then it is unlikely that they would ever have spent much time in the same room. Especially when the room in question is a hotel room in the Netherlands.

“I wonder why they called it gollem.”
“Called what?”
“This place? Why did they call it gollem?”
“Who cares? Maybe they thought it sounded good.”
“But why pick a creature from jewish folklore?”
“That’s a golem, you idiot. One L.”

They spent the rest of the night attempting to come up with a solution to the problem of how to have fun. Neither of them came close, but they did manage to become drunk in the process. Despite the substances on offer in the city, they had made an unspoken decision to stick to beer, and had been drinking with both hands since they arrived. Now, after three days, at least one of them is thinking of sneaking out of the hotel in the middle of the night of early the next morning, getting a train to the airport and flying home early. Which is unlikely, as so far neither of them has managed to get out of bed before noon.

“I’m going to get another round.”
“…”
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, right. I thought you did.”
“Well I didn’t. Are you going to the bar or not?”
“Right.”