Last week we had two power outages in Amsterdam. A boring one that took place during the day and a romantic one in the evening. The funny thing about the boring ones were the trams stranded at busy intersections, where all kinds of electric cargo bike mothers had to squeeze past, cursing.
I watched it for fifteen minutes with great pleasure. Top entertainment. The millennial moms were all in danger of being late for their toddler, their hot yoga class, the labradoodle puppy course, the relationship mediator or the tik-tok challenge at the vegetarian cookie jewelry store.
Meanwhile, cars that were far too wide also wanted to pass. Also a matter that deserves our national attention. The Dutch cars are too wide and can barely turn their big butts in our narrow streets and on the idyllic canals full of obese tourists.
The second power outage was more pleasant because we were suddenly in pitch black. And what was especially nice: the television stopped working. I still belong to the generation that has such a bitch at home. And it’s on more often than necessary. In no time, my wife and I were sitting at a candlelit table with a nice glass of red. Finally a good conversation again.
About what? I asked her why she regularly beats me up. She does that about once a month. According to her, I am asking for it because of my short temper and that domestic violence is part of a normal marriage that lasts far too long. Our doctor once told her that hitting her in the home is completely normal. Also among intellectuals? Especially among intellectuals.
Suddenly the light came on and the television started sputtering again. I immediately saw that things were not easy for them in Gaza either. Although? The Israelis have made the streets nice and wide there. The cars can easily drive and park there.
I deftly turned off the TV. That makes it easier to talk about our overcrowded power grid, the cause of the outage. I heard on the radio that we’ll just have to get used to that for the time being. Just like the layer of water in the overflowing wine cellar.
According to my best friend, we could be experiencing power outages lasting days in the near future. Maybe even weeks. And according to him, this is how the Third World War will soon begin. With a huge power outage. He hypothesized that the Amsterdam disruptions on Monday and Tuesday might have been tryouts by Putin. The disruption at Utrecht Central Station certainly was. It will soon be Schiphol’s turn, followed by the port of Rotterdam and then the Russians will have finalized the attack plan.
In the meantime, all sorts of things were rattling around in my head. Electric cars at dead charging points, E-bikes with empty batteries, hospitals that run on generators and of course the overflowing refrigerators of our future Prime Minister Wilders. All kinds of things are going to rot in there. Or is that content already bad anyway?
My best friend and I didn’t want to talk about it again. Simply because everything has already been said and written about it. Although we did have a good laugh about the fact that no one at the BBB seems to know how to do math. I knew that those farmers sometimes make a mistake of twenty thousand or so, but 1 + 3 is also difficult.
But we laughed the most at the grumbling Fleur Agema, who tried to explain in Parliament why the PVV is against the ‘deductible’ for the time being. That was one of their crown jewels, right? In that embarrassing shouting debate at SBS, didn’t Geertje wipe the floor with a stammering Frans Timmermans? I think he took the definitive lead over the rest at that moment. And now Fleur was tragically faltering. A politician in a tight spot makes strange jumps. Maybe spent too long between those whining refrigerators.
A power outage. Who wants that? I’m afraid Yesilgöz is dreaming about it. Especially if there is a vote on her retention this weekend. The last hundred members of the VVD stand with a voting box in their hand, the chairman says: “You can now press.” And then: bang! I hope so for her.