Adrenaline in Amsterdam: a lesson

A piece of advice: if you’re going to Amsterdam, remember to tell the people you’re with to take the leftover weed OUT of their bag, before you go back into Germany. I think someone should have my friend’s friends this before we returned home.

During a night out in a typical Amsterdam coffee shop, the group I was with invested in the local vice – weed. Shared among the group (but don’t worry, not me!), a mere gram made three joints. Then there was ‘Der Rest’, which someone put back in the ziplock bag after it was mixed with the tobacco. The friends that we were with found it the next morning in one of their pockets, jokingly put it in the other’s bag , and then promptly forgot about it. All day we abided by the law, ate some cheese and pommes and hung at the beach. We then drove home and crossed back into Germany, Home – hooray! 

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About 10 seconds later we spot border security. I assure my friend who was driving, “don’t worry, you’re not doing anything wrong”, thinking they were checking speed or just breahtalising drivers like they do in Australia. When they pulled us over and asked us for our IDs and to get out of the one by one, I knew it was a little more serious. By then, the ones in the backseat had remembered the weed in their bag. Of course, border patrol found it. 

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The next 20 minutes were 90% terrifying, 5% surreal and 5% hilarious. How could this have happened?! I’ve put it down to stupidity and just not thinking. The angry officer chastising the Lativan friend was pretty intimidating, but the sniffer dog was a bit of overkill. However, things were looking even worse after it showed a lot of interest in the side of the bonnet. The authorities apparently wanted to take the car to a mechanic to dismantle what they hadn’t already with their hands. It was then that my friend started doubting her parents’ pasts, since it was her mum’s car! Thankfully, the officers dropped the issue after pulling out every somewhat loose piece of anything in the bonnet. 

The person whose bag it was in was written up, but due to it being such a small quantity, they were told that it was highly unlikely that it’d go to court. Nevertheless, the rest of us had to give our details too, as we we can now be called as ‘witnesses’ if court proceedings ever did eventuate. Shit. Hope my parents don’t freak out if a letter goes home from ‘Die Deutsch Polizei’, addressed to me!

I think I failed to grasp the seriousness of the issue, until one confidant bluntly reminded me that it was, in fact, drug trafficking, which is of course, a felony. Shit. Safe to say the lesson has been learnt, and we are super grateful that it wasn’t worse. 

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