So last Monday, late afternoon, I drove my car into Amsterdam’s Nieuwe Spiegelstraat and came across a post. I wasn’t allowed to move any further from our car-free Femke. But I couldn’t go backwards either. The Nieuwe Spiegelstraat is the busiest cycle path in the Netherlands, where wild canal-belt yuppies race along on tragic fat bikes and posturing e-bikes as if a psychotic devil is chasing them.
If I had driven backwards, it would have been a serious carnage. After learning about the Magdeburg Christmas market, it didn’t seem like a good idea to me. I had plenty of time and asked the antique dealer on the corner about when this post was there. I could always drive on. The man explained that it has been there sometimes for a few weeks. It can also sink into the ground. It always causes hassle because there is no indication that the street is a dead end.
I walked back to the corner of Nieuwe Spiegelstraat and Kerkstraat to see if I had missed anything. There was only a sign with an exclamation mark. This means that you have to be careful because it can be busy. And it was busy. Swarms of frothing at the mouth yuppies buzzed past me, cursing. I was clearly in the way. The word ‘cancer’ is still the most popular swear word. That you know that.
I called the police. A nice lady explained to me that I had to go to the municipality for posts. I called the municipality. After a long wait, a voice told me that I was being recorded for quality purposes. I explained to a gentleman what was going on. That gentleman had clearly taken a customer service course and started with: “Sorry for your frustration.” Then he wanted to know where I stood. I mentioned the corner. According to his records, there was no marker there.
But it was really there. He wanted to know the number of the post. The post had no number. The post had to have a number. Otherwise it wouldn’t be a municipal post. Then what was it? A post placed by an external party. I could call them, but they were closed now. Christmas recess. I told the man that I would leave the car, which I don’t really need for the next month, in the middle of Nieuwe Spiegelstraat. That really wasn’t possible. He sent enforcers my way.
No enforcers came. After an hour I called the municipality again. Now I had a colleague who actually knew about the matter and first of all apologized for the frustration. According to him, the enforcers had been there. They weren’t. According to the municipal manager, they had been on the Spiegelgracht and had not found a Volvo or a post there. I am not on the Spiegelgracht, but on the Nieuwe Spiegelstraat. Again, apologies for the frustration. New enforcers would arrive, but that could take up to an hour. Pressure-pressure-pressure! I explained that I wasn’t going to wait for that, that I wished my car a Merry Christmas and left it there. In the middle of the street. He understood the frustration and apologized for it.
But isn’t there someone within the municipality who can press a button to lower the post? He had no idea, understood my frustration and would definitely bring this issue to the spring meeting. I locked my car and walked happily home around ten.
Where is the car now? No idea. According to a friend, it was no longer there yesterday. That friend didn’t see a pole either.
It will undoubtedly be a lengthy process. Do I want an acquittal? Yes, and a ribbon for preventing a terrible massacre just before Christmas. And further? For the time being I will focus on my new hobby: placing surprise posts without numbers. I will place the first one on the corner of Vijzelstraat and Herengracht. Why there? That is on the corner of the mayor’s official residence.