Graham in Amsterdam.

London - which reminds me of Graham Norton - which reminds me of Amsterdam. Why? Funny you should ask...

If you don't know Graham, you should. Go here, and read. To me he is the funniest guy on telly - his spitfire wit and natty way of dressing are unmatched. It's rare that I don't watch one of his shows and pee my pants laughing.

Anyway when my husband and I went to Amsterdam last May, it rained. Not surprising. It rains a lot in Amsterdam, and one afternoon we were caught in a raging downpour. We had just had a liquid lunch of Palme at our new favorite beer garden. Can't locate it on a map, but could take you right there if we were in the country. I just remember the building was green, which hubby says means it was a Grolsch bar. In any case, we were drunkedly meandering our way down a back alley full of antique shops. The big fat drops that began to pummel us made us meander a helluva lot faster.

As we were running for shelter, we noticed someone else was biking for shelter too. This guy was booking it down the alley going in the opposite direction. Pedaling like the devil was after him. He breezed past us so fast I felt it. Had to jump out of the way actually, not to get run over.

Now you see a lot of that in Amsterdam too, people pedaling like all get out. But this guy was different. For one thing, he was wearing an orange suit. A big, bright, orange suit. With a purple shirt. And very shiny, shiny shoes. In the rain. Which is probably why he was pedaling like the devil. Not to ruin his suit. And I knew him from somewhere........

"Eddie Izzard! Eddie Izzard! I screamed at my husband. "That was Eddie Izzard on the bike!"

"Are you sure?" my husband asked.

"Oh I'm sure! I'd know him anywhere!" I yelled in my drunken stupor, jumping up and down and waving my arms. I was so excited! Lil' ol' me had seen a celebrity!

You know how some people get chatty when they drink? I talk a positive blue streak, so as we ran for cover, I pelted my husband with comments about what a big Eddie Izzard fan I was. And wouldn't this be a great story to tell when we got back? And wasn't it cool that we saw someone famous in Amsterdam.......and........and........and.......and then it dawned on me.............as I sobered up...........that it wasn't Eddie at all. It was Graham.

Doh! I'm such a dumbass! Hey, what do I know? I'm just a drunk American tourist, and to this former fag hag all those fey British comics look alike, right? (sheepish grin). My husband cracked up when I told him. And he still gives me shit about it to this day.

I can laugh about it now, but at the time I was pretty embarrassed. Does this mean I have to turn in my Fag Hag Union card? Because I can't keep my gays straight? (Yeah, I know, Eddie just dresses like a woman, or used to, but you get my meaning). I should've known it wasn't Eddie anyway, because Graham doesn't wear heels. And he's way funnier. And he dresses better. Just look up "natty" in the dictionary, and you'll see his picture.

Why this story? I'm headed to London this very week, and from watching Graham's show I've learned he preys on unwitting victims who happen to be on or near South Bank. One week he placed a phone box right by the London Eye and let it ring. When a guy picked, he picked *him* up, the entire phone box, using a fork lift and brought him into the studio to be an unexpected guest on the show.

So if you see my husband and I trolling the South Bank in the next week or so, looking for suspicious phone boxes attached to forklifts, you'll know why. I'm just trying to get on Graham's show so I can be a "stupid American tourist" and get some autographs, and tell my story. Hey, I'm not proud, I just think he's HIGH-sterical.

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Amsterdam.

So my husband and I went to Amsterdam in May 2007, and try as I might, I cannot get some of the images out of my mind. I was prepared for the tulips, the canals, the wooden shoes, but no one prepared me for the bikes.

There are hundreds of bikes, literally everywhere. Bikes chained to bike stands, bikes chained to outdoor tables, chairs, bikes chained to drainpipes and fence posts and even to other bikes. There are bikes chained everywhere. In fact, there are more bikes in Amsterdam than there are people - I read several places that it's because there's a bike stolen like every 10 seconds or something crazy. So having more bikes than people would make sense I suppose. It all evens out.

You'd see the strangest, most eerily beautiful tableaux play out on bikes. Our first night we were enjoying the first of many delicious Indonesian meals while sitting outside (you don't find Indonesian anything in Charlottesville that I know of) and even though the restaurant was in a narrow side alley just off one of the main canals, bikes sped by frequently. I learned to watch where I stepped not only in front of me, but beside and behind me as well whenever we walked anywhere (I won't even go into the clusterfuck that takes place while trying to maneuver yourself across a street filled with bikes and the oncoming #2 tram to the central station).

As we ate, a rickety old bike glided by. Literally glided as if it were floating like an air hockey puck. The guy driving was old, probably 70, with a grey, wispy combover and bad teeth (okay, I didn't see his teeth but I imagine from the rest of him that they might be on the mossy side). He was dressed to the nines in his best suit, you could tell. It was worn, but fashionable - a nice dark bluish-grey. Nice dark tie as well.

This stood out, that on an early Saturday evening some old guy was riding a bike like he hadn't a care in the world - with his front basket filled to brimming, spilling over with bright fuschia-colored tulips. Just beautiful. Watching him glide was like looking at a painting. An old guy, on a bike, with tulips. My brain couldn't compute scene all at once without thinking of oil pastels and turpentine and acrylics.

I wondered where he was headed, what he was thinking, why had he bought the tulips? Were they for his apartment or for someone else? Was he headed to early cocktails and then dinner with someone special? Or had he bought them.....just because. Just because in Amsterdam you buy tulips because they're there and they're plentiful and it's the season for tulips and they're pretty. The whole incident lasted maybe 20 seconds but the scene has stayed in my head ever since. I found Amsterdam to be like that more than any other city I've visited. It's a city of images, little visual moments like that.

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