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It’s like that

and that's the way it is. The '97 remix, of course, with those cool dancers in the clip, the first time I saw a remix announced as "original artist vs remix guy", Run DMC vs Jason Nevins. That's the reason for picking this song, "versus". Today's match: Amsterdam vs Utrecht.

 

Amsterdam.

Monday afternoon. City center Amsterdam. I am in a rush, late for a wedding. Run up the stairs, slip and hit my head. Later on at the hospital they will put me together with superglue – I'm not joking, they use the same stuff you make model airplanes with instead of stitches. But that's later – right now I scream, I feel my head, and I scream, loud and urgent, and as I am screaming I realize that I normally never scream this long or loud, so I deduct that I am apparently screaming for help, from the people I saw just now. I glance around, they see me bleeding, they walk on. I struggle to my feet and exit the parking garage that I was in. I stand there for a while, in a busy street, trying not to bleed on my suit. Nobody helps me. I ask someone for a piece of paper. They hand me a used kleenex with an outstretched arm. This suit is too expensive to mistake me for a beggar, what's going on? I try to walk but I have to sit. I phone a colleague to help me, I sit bleeding some more, finally one Japanese woman comes over, concerned, hands me paper towels and leaves. I phone Iris and break down – I cry and ask her to come get me.

 

Later on I faint, right in front of the groom and learn that it's really bad luck to lie flat on the ground at a Chinese wedding. Pocket that tip people, you don't want to piss off a room full of people who were supposed to have a party.

 

Utrecht.

Thursday mid-morning. City center Utrecht. I am not in a rush, I'm riding my bike, wearing really tight G-star pants that are so impractical but hey I got to look good for all my peeps out there or insert some random rap lyric here, damn it's a nice day out, look at the sun, where was I – right, I wasn't paying attention so I topple over because my pants are so tight I can't stick out my leg far enough to catch myself. I am origami right in the middle of the street and trying to stand up, which isn't working, because my arms aren't strong enough to lift me. Push-up count: 0. Within seconds – concerned people everywhere. Someone lifts my bag, someone helps me up, two people are recommending me to take vitamins (wtf?). One guy loudly proclaims that I'm drunk, and I take a mental reminder to have cards printed that say "I'm not crazy or drunk, I just have ALS" because explaining it on a busy street is quite a challenge with this voice. I thank everyone profusely, decline the offers for a seat or water or a ride home (I have an appointment with a British French guy to go to in just a few minutes and I don't want to be LATE) so I straggle to the sidewalk and take some time to catch my breath and eat a banana because that's better than smoking a cigarette.

 

Five minutes later I have caught my breath and a cute couple that has been watching comes up to me. They will walk with me to wherever I need to go and they will carry my bike. Arrived at my destination the woman has tears in her beautiful eyes and the guy, inked from toe to nose-tip, says "I may have tattoos, but dude, you gave me such a scare, I feel for you, I had to help you". I'm even in time for my meeting.

 

Amsterdam – Utrecht: 0-1.