The Stag and Hen Weekend

by Mike Gayle

  ‘Maybe we should join them,’ said Reuben closing the gap so that they were now behind a group of well dressed women. ‘By the looks of the trendy types in this queue there’s every chance we won’t get in even if we do make it to the front before midnight and to top it all we don’t even know what we’re queuing for. It could be Amsterdam’s top gay bar for all we know.’

  ‘And even then you wouldn’t be able to pull!’ said Deano dodging past Phil and tapping one of the women in front of them on the shoulder.

  The woman turned round and Phil was surprised at how attractive she was. She had black shoulder-length hair and a luminous complexion that made her look fresh and youthful. She looked like she was an actress or a model or even a singer and because of this Phil began to imagine that he recognised her.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked in English. Her accent although clearly European, was very MTV American.

  ‘Yes, you can,’ said Deano ditching his Derby accent for his best Hugh Grant ‘yes-I-am-that-unbelievably-English’ impression. Phil could barely keep a straight face. ‘My friends and I were wondering if there was any chance you could tell us what this place is. It’s just that we haven’t a clue but thought it might be fun.’ He looked up at the sign above their heads. ‘The Lab. What is it?’

  Phil cringed. This poor woman had done nothing to deserve the full Deano onslaught but now that his friend had started there was little chance that he would stop until expressly told to do so. Possibly by the police.

  ‘It’s just a bar,’ said the beautiful woman. ‘It opened a week or two ago and you know how it is when something’s cool . . . everyone has to be there. It’s my first time. I’m here for my friend’s birthday.’

  ‘But it’ll be worth the wait?’

  The beautiful woman laughed. ‘Well, I’m hoping it’ll beat sitting in front of the TV.’ She turned back to her friends, leaving Deano staring lasciviously at her bare shoulders. Phil tapped him on the arm thereby ending what was clearly a sordid reverie.

  ‘We should go,’ said Phil, keen to stay as far away as possible from women who weren’t his fiancée.

  ‘Can’t,’ said Deano. ‘First, Simon doesn’t want to leave, do you Si?’ Simon laughed and rolled his eyes. ‘And second, I think I may possibly be in love.’

  ‘This is still my stag do isn’t it?’ said Phil exasperatedly. ‘I do still get some say in what we do?’

  ‘Of course you do,’ said Deano. ‘Just not yet. You know how it is mate.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I have to talk to this woman again. She was well into me. And her mates are hot too!’

  There wasn’t enough alcohol in the entire world to make either this woman or her friends remotely interested in Deano but this made not one jot of difference to his friend.

  ‘Fine, we’ll stay,’ said Phil reasoning that Deano’s antics would offer some much needed light relief. ‘But I’m nobody’s wingman all right? I don’t want to talk to, look at, or stand next to any of these women okay?’

  ‘Ha!’ scoffed Deano. ‘Like they’d even be looking in your direction!’

  Before Phil could reply to Deano’s insult with a few of his own, his attention was caught by a group of four lads swaggering down the street towards them. From their accents, demeanour and general lack of sobriety it was obvious that they were part of a British stag party.

  They came to a halt next to the beautiful woman and her friends. ‘All right girls?’ said the tallest of the men in a rough Essex accent. ‘What’s this queue for then?’

  In an attempt to humour them, the beautiful woman explained very carefully what the queue was for but if they hoped that this would be enough to make the stag party go away they couldn’t have been more wrong. Without any encouragement the men attempted to join the women in the queue and when they made it clear that they didn’t want to be joined things began to get ugly.

  ‘Stuck up bitches aren’t interested, boys!’ said the tall man to his friends. ‘British blokes not good enough for you lot?’

  ‘Not in this case,’ said the beautiful woman. ‘So why don’t you just leave us alone?’

  ‘You heard her,’ said Phil, embarrassed by his fellow countrymen. He stepped in front of the beautiful woman so that he was facing the tall guy head on. ‘They’re not interested.’

  Tall Guy glared at Phil. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Someone who’s sick and tired of brain-dead morons like you giving us all a bad name.’

  Tall Guy laughed. ‘Boys, this cock in a suit thinks he can tells us what to do!’

  ‘He does because he can,’ said Simon positioning himself next to Phil, flanked by the rest of the boys. ‘You, my friend, need to go, and you need to go now.’

  Phil could see Tall Guy’s friends weighing up the odds, but drunk as they were, they could see they were outnumbered – and thanks to Reuben and in particular Spencer – out-bulked too.

  ‘Come on lads,’ said Tall Guy fixing Phil with a menacing stare. ‘One way or another I’m sure we’ll see these guys around later.’

  Wary of being caught off guard, the boys stood their ground as the Essex stag party sauntered into the mid-distance, and only once they were sure they had gone did they relax.

  ‘He’s right you know,’ said Phil. ‘Chances are we will see them later. It’s not like Amsterdam is a huge place.’

  ‘And when we do,’ replied Simon, ‘we’ll sort them out just like we did this time.’

  Phil turned to the beautiful woman. ‘You all right?’

  She nodded. ‘Thank you for that. You were really kind to help out.’

  ‘It was nothing,’ replied Phil, suddenly self-conscious. ‘I hope that it doesn’t spoil your evening.’

  Content to relive every nanosecond of their altercation (an event that quickly became known as The Time We Kicked Arse While Wearing Reservoir Dogs Suits) the next twenty minutes passed by in a blur of posing and posturing. Just as even Deano was beginning to murmur that maybe they had spent too long in the queue, a large group left the bar and the door staff began letting people in again and in no time at all the boys were second in the queue.

  Readying themselves for their first encounter with Dutch door staff the boys tried to make themselves as presentable as they could fixing ties and sorting out collars. One of the bouncers, a tall wide-neck manmountain lifted the rope at the front of the entrance and then addressed the women: ‘Horen deze heren bij u?’

  Phil breathed a sigh of relief. Despite their suits the doorman had seen the boys for exactly what they were: six British blokes on a stag do – the very epitome of the kind of customer any half-decent Dutch drinking establishment would not want to entertain for the evening. Soon they would be turned away and left with no choice but to find themselves a proper pub where they could drink, argue and talk nonsense without cause to contemplate the opposite sex.

  But then the beautiful woman turned, winked at Phil and without missing a beat said in English: ‘Yes, they are.’

  6.

  Phil had no idea what to think but as the doorman ushered the boys inside he reasoned that at the very least they would soon be getting a drink. A combination of the chips, the queuing and their near fight had sobered him up and he was now desperate to get back to that easy-going state of mind that he’d enjoyed earlier in the evening.

  Inside, Phil made sure not to be too close to the women ahead in case they feared that he was going to spend all night following them and making a nuisance of himself following his good deed. Once they were past the second set of doors, however, the women peeled off to the right and joined a group at a table opposite the huge plate glass windows that looked out on to the street and Phil made sure to go the opposite way.

  As the boys gathered Phil glanced over at the woman and she looked up at him and smiled. Phil smiled back and to show his appreciation of her kindness in a non-threatening manner devoid of all sexual connotations gave her the thumbs-up and immediately regretted it.

  ‘I just gave that girl who go
t us in here the thumbs-up,’ shouted Phil over the bar’s club music, as the woman looked on confused.

  ‘We know,’ yelled Deano, lines of laughter apparent at the corner of his eyes. ‘We saw. After that public display of eighties-style sign language I think you’ve pretty much ruined all our chances. You gave her the wacky thumbs-up, fella! Even with the best will in the world there’s no coming back from that mate. Beer?’

  Phil nodded. ‘I’ll have whatever they’ve got. Just make sure it’s cold and strong.’

  Led by Simon, the boys headed off to get the drinks leaving Phil alone with Deano. Phil had been to many bars like The Lab in his time and he had loathed every aspect of them from their pretentious decor through to their even more pretentious clientele. These weren’t so much places to have a drink and a catch up with mates but rather places that people went to in order to see and be seen, as though the very act of having made it past the door staff made you something special.

  Phil did not feel special. In fact having compromised his beliefs by coming here he felt sort of dirty and soiled and wished he could be in their usual corner in Deano’s pub back in Beeston, sipping Carlsberg while cracking jokes about Degsy’s love life.

  ‘What are we doing here?’ asked Phil as a couple of attractive women passed by looking straight through them. ‘This isn’t us. After this beer we should go, find ourselves a proper pub and bed in for the night.’ He scanned the bar. All the seats had long since been taken and even standing room was at a premium. ‘There isn’t even anywhere to sit.’

  ‘Mate,’ said Deano, ‘are you ever going to stop bloody moaning? All you’ve done all evening is whinge. Look around you, fella, this place is crawling with top class talent of every description!’ He pointed to a tall girl with shoulder-length blonde hair. ‘She’s gorgeous!’ He moved his finger across to the right by several degrees to a beautiful girl wearing a silver metallic barely there minidress. ‘What I wouldn’t do to be able to lick her armpits!’ And finally he moved his finger to a beautiful brunette who was now looking right at him. ‘Look at her! She’s lovely! And because she’s seen me pointing at her I’m on her radar!’

  ‘As a potential stalker!’ said Phil marvelling at his friend’s brazenness. ‘She’s probably calling the police as we speak.’

  A group of people at a table a few feet away stood up and left but before Phil could make a grab for their seats they were leapt upon by a group of young guys in tight tops sporting inordinate amounts of gel in their hair.

  Thwarted, Phil turned to Deano and tried to make conversation to distract himself from the pain in his knees. ‘So what’s your take on this business with Si? It doesn’t sound right does it?’

  ‘Not even a little bit. It’s got to be another bird though.’

  ‘Any ideas who?’

  Deano shrugged. ‘I’ve seen him chat to a few women in the pub but no more than a quick hello. But that’s Si, isn’t it? He’ll talk to anyone about anything when he’s on form. I didn’t even notice he’d stopped wearing his wedding ring.’

  ‘Has he? I didn’t even think to look.’

  ‘I clocked it when he told us in the bar.’ Deano paused. ‘You’re not going to let it bother you though? You know, let it get under you skin, and convince you that all marriages are doomed and blah, blah, blah.’

  Phil laughed. ‘I hadn’t been thinking that but cheers for putting it out there fella.’

  ‘I’m just saying . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Are we going to carry on like this all night?’

  Deano sighed. ‘All I was going to say is that I’ve seen you and Helen together and I can tell – just from looking at you guys – that you’re going to work.’

  There was an awkward pause then Phil said: ‘Was that as hard to say as it was to listen to?’

  ‘Mate,’ replied Deano, ‘it was excruciating.’

  ‘Let’s agree to never do that again, okay?’

  ‘On that,’ said Deano, ‘you have my absolute word.’

  Although The Lab turned out to be more fun than he expected (even as a happily engaged man it was hard to not be impressed by the high concentration of gorgeous girls in the bar), after an hour or so there was no getting away from the fact that the lager was too expensive, there still weren’t any seats and although Deano had toned down his dog on heat routine there was still every chance that the evening would end with the boyfriend of one of his victims punching his lights out.

  Returning from a trip to The Lab’s toilets (not so much your common or garden toilet as state of the art unisex space pod featuring toilets, male and female urinals) Phil began working his way back to the boys trying to work out exactly how best to pitch his plan without getting into an hour long debate about the pros and cons of moving on. To his immediate discomfort he saw the woman from the queue standing in front of him.

  ‘Ah, Mr Thumbs-up!’ she grinned. ‘We meet again.’

  Phil cringed but as he tried compose himself he was once again struck by the familiarity of her face. He couldn’t possibly know her, could he? Surely she was far too attractive for him to have met her in person and forgotten.

  ‘Look,’ said Phil. ‘I am very much aware how uncool that thumbs-up thing was.’

  ‘I thought it was funny. Quite sweet actually. Sometimes I miss the English and their funny ways.’

  ‘You know England then?’

  ‘A bit. I’m actually half English. My dad was a Londoner but I was raised here in Amsterdam, then moved to London in my twenties. I haven’t been to the UK for a while but if there’s one thing I miss about the English, it’s the way that you moan. No one, not even the Danes, can moan like you Brits. It’s your nation’s most endearing feature.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ said Phil. ‘We do begrudgingly aim to please.’

  Phil thought this had better be the end of the conversation. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘It was nice to meet you.’

  ‘You too,’ she replied. ‘And I really want to thank you for your assistance outside. I hope the rest of your stag weekend goes well. Congratulations. I hope marriage suits you better than it did me.’

  Phil eyed the woman suspiciously. ‘How did you know I was the one getting married? Do I look engaged?’

  ‘It’s in your eyes, I think,’ she said. ‘But it’s not a bad thing. It’s nice. Believe me you don’t want to be like that friend of yours.’

  ‘Deano? He’s not that bad. You know what they say about barks being worse than bites? Well that’s him all over.’

  ‘Maybe. But I stand by what I said. You don’t want to be like him.’

  ‘I’ll try not to be.’

  ‘So what’s planned for the rest of your boys’ weekend? Anything good? No fights I hope.’

  ‘Oh, no . . .’ said Phil. ‘We’ll probably just be doing the usual stuff.’

  ‘Visiting the red-light area, getting stoned and drinking ’til you throw up?’

  ‘I thought you said you liked the Brits?’ protested Phil. ‘We’re not all clichés.’

  ‘So tomorrow you and the guys will be hitting Amsterdam’s top cultural spots? Stedelijk followed by the Van Gogh Museum then after lunch heading to Oude Kerk and maybe finishing the day off at the Begijnhof?’

  ‘We might be.’

  The woman clearly wasn’t convinced. ‘Now that,’ she said, ‘I’d love to see.’

  ‘Does it get you down?’ asked Phil moving out of the way of a couple trying to get around him. ‘Having your country invaded every weekend by hordes of Brits?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not really. I don’t go out that often. I just sometimes wish you lot would recognise there’s more to Amsterdam than clogs, hash and working girls.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Phil raising his right hand. ‘In return for getting us in here tonight – thanks for that by the way – I hereby promise to go somewhere cultural tomorrow. You name it and I�
�ll go there.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  Phil grinned. ‘I never joke about culture.’

  ‘Then in that case you should go to the Van Gogh Museum. It’s nice there. Plenty to see. You’ll love it.’

  Phil smiled as if to say, ‘Well I suppose that’s that,’ and she offered him a smile in return. Carefully wrapping his thumbs inside his fist in case they got ideas of their own he headed back to his friends.

  ‘Where have you been?’ said Reuben. ‘We were about to send out a search party!’

  ‘Nowhere,’ said Phil rolling over the encounter in his mind. ‘I just got a bit lost that’s all. This place is bigger than you think.’ He took his glass from Degsy and drained it in one. ‘I was thinking that maybe we should get off?’

  ‘No can do, mate,’ said Deano.

  ‘Why not?’

  Deano looked over Phil’s shoulder. ‘Because I think the woman of my dreams has finally come to her senses.’

  Phil turned around to see the woman from the queue walking over to them. ‘For you,’ she said, handing him a torn piece of paper, ‘to thank you for your help earlier and in case you use not having anyone to go with as an excuse to chicken out.’

  Phil looked at the paper in his hand. A name and mobile number written in the same gloriously feminine handwriting.

  ‘Cheers . . .’ he looked down again, ‘Sanne . . . that’s really nice of you.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she replied, nodded a brief acknowledgement to the boys and headed back to her friends leaving him with five pairs of eyes staring at him.

  ‘What was that about?’ asked Deano.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Phil. ‘I bumped into her a few minutes ago. We were just talking, that’s all.’

  ‘And now she’s giving you her phone number?’

  Phil nodded.

  ‘And you think this is normal?’

  He hesitated. ‘Maybe not normal exactly but . . .’ His voice trailed off. ‘Look, I just bumped into her, that’s all. We started talking about museums and stuff and I’d said I’d check one of them out and that’s why she gave me her number, okay? Nothing sinister . . . she’s simply offering to go with me if I want her to.’