Soon I got to quite love my bike and all the canal hopping experiences that came with it. We made two important pilgrimages that afternoon; the first, to the van Gogh museum, and the second, to the Heineken factory. It was probably good that my emotions were somewhat... muted for the museum, since I can't imagine the grumpiness it would normally have provoked to experience such an expanse of works by my favorite painter amidst a thick, slowly moving herd. But thanks to old cannabis I was almost grateful for the sense of community, for the fact that we were all there appreciating him together. 
We went out back and smoked another joint, and then it was off to a museum even more enhanced by the communal experience: Heineken! We took it as a sign of synchronicity that the first display we encountered was a vintage bike, followed by a big diagram helpfully explaining why our bodies were so dehydrated after the past six days of travel.
The next and best part was a virtual ride that took you through the stages of first becoming beer, and then being bottled, packaged, and imbibed. We were mashed, cooled, fermented, shaken around, sent bumping along the factory belt, shaken some more, and I dare say I was starting to feel a little woozy by the time we finally went coasting down some frat boy's esophagus.
"How about that FIFTY FOOT DROP?!" Bonne and I said for the benefit of the next people in line as we exited. They paid us no attention, but we were convinced we had just been absolutely hilarious, and went cackling off to the first of many bars on the tour to make use of some tokens.
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