Cogs can think.

Would the following qualify as a religious experience?

Right, so there we all were. Marco, Martin, Robbert, Gemma, Robin, Thei, Levi, and I. Onno and Annemarie had left a few minutes earlier. We just had a barbecue on a roof terrace in the middle of Amsterdam - the weather is 20+, lots of sun, really nice. The table had mostly been cleared, except for a large bucket of potato salad, which was just screaming at me THROW ME INTO SOMEONE’S FACE.

Naturally, I felt obliged.

So, what do I get from you guys if I smack a spoonful of this stuff into Levi’s face? I ask. Marco takes out his wallet, and pulls out a twenty Euro note. I act quickly. Let’s split the profits, I say to Levi, and the spoonful of potato salad comes hurling towards his face.

Marco hands me the twenty Euro note, Levi hands me ten, and I hand Levi the twenty Euro note. Easy profit, or what? I tuck the ten Euro note away in my empty wallet.

Fast forward a few hours later, about 00:30. I’m in my car, about to turn onto the A10, when I notice I need to go to the petrol station to fill her up. A petrol symbol appears on my satnav, so I take the exit, and I put 15 Euros’ worth of petrol in my car (about 10 litre). I think to myself, that should be enough for the week, I’ve got no plans whatsoever.

I’m in the little shop, grabbing a bag of liquorice, when I flip open my wallet, and feel the rug being pulled from underneath me. The little slot that carries my bank card is empty. I realise, god fcuking damnit shit ass bitch ho, I left my bank card in another pair of jeans, because I needed to quickly pay for something while at work yesterday, and didn’t want to carry my entire wallet through the shop. My bank card was still at home, 60km away. That’s what you get for failing to check for your important stuff before leaving, just for one time. You know, IT’S NOT A COMPULSION WHEN IT’S NECESSARY.

And that’s when I realised I had the ten Euro note. Thank you potato salad.

But that still wasn’t enough. The guy behind the counter doesn’t really know what to do about it, and nor do I. That usual gutty type of panic comes crawling through my intestines right about now. Then I noticed someone else who wanted to pay for his petrol. I let him pay first, since I was still busy trying to find the reset button ON REALITY.

I had no alternative. Sir, may I ask you for a small favour? The guy, middle-eastern, I think, smiles - he noticed my fumbling around and had already realised what was going on. He took five Euros out of his wallet, and gave them to me. Thank you so very much sir, you’re a hero. Thank you ever so much. My hero leaves the shop.

So, it’s either god, or potato salad is sentient. Your call.