Excitement abounded as T. Lindeman stepped off the plane in Amsterdam for a trip that, he hoped, would make his liver expand to shapes and sizes heretofore unknown.

“Like the end of How the Grinch Stole Christmas,” explained Lindeman. “Except instead of my heart growing three times larger because of the Christmas cheer in Whoville, it would be my liver because of all the beer in Amsterdam.”

Lindeman arrived with a group from the Fairmount Rowing Association, his rowing club in Philadelphia. The team had traveled across the Atlantic to race in the 51st Annual Heineken Regatta on the Amstel River.

“With proper nouns like that,” said Lindeman, “the real reason for the trip was clear. ‘Heineken’? ‘Amstel’? Let’s just say the forecast called for beer.” The forecast also called for rain; it rained most of Lindeman’s time in Amsterdam.

With drinking on the brain and an afternoon arrival, Lindeman joined some of his teammates for dinner and a quick pint at a local watering hole. As 2AM loomed and his pillow sang a siren’s song, Lindeman left his team and went on autopilot.

“Tommy [Lindeman] has this thing he does in Europe,” said a source close to Lindeman that requested to remain anonymous because it was his brother. “It’s like a pre-bed ritual. Some people remove their makeup, some put their hair up or clean their ears. Some people even floss and brush their teeth. Tommy lumbers around whatever town he’s in until he finds a kebab, then brings it to his hotel and absolutely houses it all over his bed. If you’ve ever shared a room with him in Europe, you know what I’m talking about. And I’m sorry.”

The following morning, surrounded by pita crumbs and shredded lettuce, Lindeman rose with the sun, planning for a day of pancakes and beer. This would be the first time of many that his plans would be interrupted.

“The team wanted to practice,” bemoaned Lindeman. “So we had to head out to the boathouse where we were borrowing a boat for the race, rig the boat, check over our seats to make sure they were ready, and then practice rowing down the race course.

“It really got in the way of our being the ABC — Amsterdam Booze Crew.”

When asked for comment about the ABC, Lindeman’s teammates responded, “What? That’s not a thing.”

With practice over, the team stopped for lunch at a pub near the race course. It was here where the first signs of a schism in the squad began to show.

“There were some older folks in the group who began referring to each guy in the boat as either an ‘old guy’ or a ‘young guy’,” said one of the ‘old guys’. “And after lunch, the ‘old guys’ wanted to go drinking, while the ‘young guys’ wanted to take in some culture. So we split up.”

Lindeman, at 31, was somehow considered a ‘young guy’ — and one of the younger ‘young guys’ at that. But he joined neither group when they split.

“I was tired, so I went to nap.”

Telling words from the self-proclaimed and only confirmed member of the Amsterdam Booze Crew.

With two days of racing ahead, the team had to forego another night on the town. “‘Another Night Falls Victim To Priorities’ — there’s your headline,” quipped Lindeman unhelpfully. Early the next morning, he joined the team at the boathouse, where they launched, raced, and returned to the dock, all inside of a short four hours.

After a quick dinner with the team, Lindeman joined a few of the ‘young guys’ for a pint (which was limited to only a pint) before they rested and went to bed ahead of the second day of racing. “Another opportunity to ABC — Always Be(er) Crushing — ruined. ‘Evening Blimey Stymied By Aquatic Past-Timey’ — there’s a great headline you can use free-of-charge!” offered Lindeman, generously presenting another terrible headline.

The second day of racing consisted of two back-to-back races, and their final placement was decided by the sum of time from all three of that weekend’s races (the 5k time trial on day one, and the 2.5k time trial and 500m duel on day two).

“Not too shabby of a showing!” said one of the ‘old guys’. “We finished in the middle of the pack. If first is first, and last is last, and everything else is the middle of the pack, we finished in the middle of the pack.”

For Lindeman, this meant the rowing interruptions of the trip would finally cease, and he could get to work: “‘At Long Last, Lindeman Libates…Liberally,’” he shared with a wide smile. “Feel free to use that for your article, the fans will love it!”

After showering off with an enormous group of men from all over the world, the team went to the finish line where Heineken had set up a large bar in the Nereus boathouse. With wet whistles, they continued on to a pub for lunch and further drinks. Lindeman later led a crew to the Heineken factory for a tour and tasting. “If there’s anything more exciting than drinking beer, it’s seeing how it’s made! And the perfect opportunity to ABC — Alotta (sic) Beers, Cool!”

The rest of the team’s time in Amsterdam was a blur of Heineken, Van Gogh, breweries, Heineken, pubs, blushing past red-lit windows, kebabs, and Heineken. Looking back on the trip, Lindeman gave his final thoughts.

“Honestly, the rowing was probably my favorite part… off-the-record, of course,” he noted with a wink. “But being grouped in with the ‘young guys,’ I need to be seen as hip and cool and fun. ABC, am I right? Awesome Beer Chap! So how about this for a title: ‘Drinking Trip Hampered By Bouts of Boating.’

“Nah, that’s no good.”