Pick up those feet soldier

Greetings nublets, I have returned! And what a deal I have for you today. Two seperate party reports in one blog. How can you argue with that kind of InSanE value? You cant, shant and wont.

Rotterdamfinewaytospendanevening

After Dave Clarke rocked my socks, flicked my switch and floated my boat at Mysterland, I figured I should see him again. After all, which DJ *doesnt* sound good when your head is buzzing with strange imported Mexican mushrooms. So to Rotterdam we trekked. What IS it with the Dutch and their tokens? I havent been to a club yet where I could flash a wink and a 20 at a barmaid for their best rum (since when do I drink rum anyways?). You have to first buy 'tokens' from somewhere. Tokens! I havent used tokens since my childhood worlds collided and one establishment clearly lost its mind, combining the awesomeness of both video games AND mini golf (OMFG!!). It was too much for this child I tell you. Golf 'n' Gamez was my childhood dream come true, and I had a birthday party there of grand proportions. I do however digress...

For better or worse (read: worse) I was going relatively clean, and ye olde RedBull & Vodka didnt quite turn my knob. Some nice dancing was done, however to be honest, I've realised that clubbing is really overrated. Too much control, too many security guards, too many tokens. In fact the only reason they are good is they have dark corners to drag cute concubines, and mine wasnt present *pout*.

Dave Clarke was...... good, but not the kind of good I remembered. Then again this was just a club night and previously I saw him in an enormous party tent at the biggest outdoor gig of the year. A good friend of mine would liken it from using a Japanese robotic dildo to a vibrating Nokia - it just aint the same.

Getting home was a bastard, but when isnt it? Fortunately the boredom was broken (however briefly) by random drunken Dutch street fights across multiple platforms. Ah, Rotterdam - the place to take your kids at night. Or not.

Wheres mine damnit!

ImoudownadarkroadLOSTItellyou

Hands up who's heard of Ijmuiden? Liars. Try no-one, barely even the locals. Pronounced *something* approximate to Imoudown (thus the title) this ass-end of the world is a beach town on the west coast (yoyo wess siide, what!)

Its 11.00pm Saturday night, I'm playing game boy in my underwear when someone buzzes me. "Beach party, Ijmuiden, catch a night bus. Cya at 2.00am"

Ok.... thats random. 15 minutes later I'm out the door and ready to boogie. Actually thats a lie, I spend a little time getting all fabulous and *then* I'm out the door. What, a boy has his pride yknow.

Training to Amsterdam, I hop on a night bus. Yknow those ones that take 2 hours to get you home because they zig-zag all over the state? Yeah, those. We get to the very end of the line and the bus driver announces "Ijmuiden". I look around. There are two nerdy looking guys at the back of the bus in Nicklodeon T-shirts. The landscape? Apart from being very dark, I appear to be in a deserted street quite far from any forms of civilisation.

Stu: "Um.. there is meant to be a beach party at an Inn somewhere... bus driver do you know?"
Driver "Oh that Inn... geez thats like.. a 45 minute walk at least."
Stu: "Great."
Nerds: "Ar yu goin to thart partee too?"

Great, a party, nowhere to be found, that these geeks are attending. Sounds lovely.

Anyways we managed to bribe the bus driver to take us closer as a personal taxi. Getting out, said geeks only had 1 Euro. 1 freaking euro? Bloody university bums. I gave the good sir 10 and said thanks.

Half an hour later I could have killed him. He dropped us GODKNOWSWHERE and we spent most of our time climbing grassy sand dunes in the dark. The nerds kept saying how they never do *anything* like this, and they would remember it forever. They also argued over tiny amounts of weed they were putting into a cigarette. I'm thinking... dudes.. you have like, no weed, at all, it wouldnt get my grandma high, stop arguing and smoke the pathetic thing you have. Eventually we cross the last dune and see the party raging on the beach - Amen!

It was all up from here, and when I say up, I really mean it. Forbidden fruits of every flavour flowed freely at this party, and even the owners of the beach-front bar seemed to be on it. Psytrance was pumping, people playing with fire-poi, glowing juggling balls and generally dancing like new-age acidic wizards. We saw in the sunrise and good times we had by all.

Unfortunately getting home was yet another mission. First we abandoned the road for some track, and got hopelessly lost amongst grassy dunes for an hour. We trekked past concrete bunkers that were relics from World War 2 and eventually found a twilight-zone town where no buses existed. I got home at 1.30pm the next day and collapsed on my bed.