Russian guards and hapless Chinese ducks

 Thursday.

Dave:  Let’s walk until we find a green sign.

Me:   😳 Okay.

…….12 KLM later

Dave:  Nevermind.  I feel like buying a duck.

Me:  😳 Okay.

Surfed the canals on a perfect late summer’s day and from there, an endless wander through the delights of Amsterdam’s winding streets.   One of which produced a sumptuous roasted duck for the fellow’s dinner.  Tucked away in a warm, greasy sack, the boys cackled in anticipation of the crackling. Until the moment we settled into our seats on Tram 24 bound for home and looked out the window to see…. THE DUCK ON THE BENCH.   Sad little bag on the bench.   Abandoned.  Crying greasy tears.  “J’ai oublie’ le canard!”

….. many tram buttons were panickly pushed, to no avail.   Dutch trams do not pause nor stop for ducks.  And so we slipped silently away as we tearfully looked back at the sad little bag on the bench.  

Two disquieting minutes slipped by, until the tram paused at the next stop.  Unannounced, Dave electrically bolted from his seat… “I’m going to get our duck!” He said, with determination…”See you later!”  And just like that pffssssst!   He was gone.

There was no time to gasp or to plan.  Our guide had just evaporated, gone duck huntin’.   The only logical idea was to get off at the normal spot and wait 8 long minutes for the #24 tram to reappear, which it did, with perfect punctuality.  And there he was, bag ‘o duck in hand, happy as a lark and reporting that when he returned to the bench that the bag was being guarded by two Russians from Georgia.  You cannot make this shit up.   That’s what he said and I have no reason to disbelieve him.

Stir fry tonight.  Guess what’s in it?