This is Amsterdam, so it must be Thursday

Checked into Montpellier airport with nearly two hours to spare.  Once through the barrier there is one drink stall and absolutely nothing else.  Air France to De Gaule, then KLM to Amsterdam.

Got to Paris on schedule.  My ticket invited me into the Air France lounge.  Wow.  It’s like I imagine a gentleman’s club in London to be like.  Comfy chairs, coat rack for your jacket, free drinks and nibbles.  Cushty.

I finish my Ricard and lemonade at the same time I finish a chapter in my book.  Five past 4, and my flight doesn’t leave until 4:40.  No worries.  I’ll just pour myself a refill and take a shufty at the departure screen.  My flight is flashing red "embarquement".  Panic.  I rush to the gate.  There are a dozen people waiting to go through, but there seems to be a technical hitch preventing them from passing th]rough.  Suddenly my bladder kicks in.  The loos are just opposite the gate.  Do I have time?  "Yes!" screams my bladder.  I made the airport bus to the plane easily enough afterwards.  In fact, we stay on the tarmac for 15 minutes.

Our flight is delayed, queuing up at the end of the runway.  But oh, KLM is wonderful.  I have by chance been given a seat at the front.  Lots of leg room.  The stewardess takes my jacket and hangs it up in the wardrobe.  When the chicken and prawn salad comes around it is served on china crockery, with metal cutlery and the passable red wine comes in a glass of… well, glass.

Circling over Amsterdam I am for a moment confused by the fields ribboned in red, yellow and white.  Tulips!  Acres of them.  And dykes everywhere, canals, ponds, lakes.  We pass over a golf course that has several water hazards per hole.

As the taxi enters Amsterdam there are bicycles everywhere.  Walking out this evening they are on the road, on the footpath, going with the traffic, against it and across it.  I twirl down the street, desperatley trying to look in every direction at once for the maniac that will surely run me down.  I told the taxi driver on the way in that all I needed to see was a windmill and all my preconceptions of Holland would be true.  He said "Don’t forget the Red Light District".  For some reason I thought of Karla.


About snodlander
Snodlander is the nom de plume of Bob Simms. He is an IT trainer, but it's not as glamourous as it sounds. When he's not enthralling classes with adventures through SQL Server, he writes, draws and drinks his own home-brew. Buy his novel on Amazon Kindle at The Young Demon Keeper, It's 74p, for crying out loud!

One Response to This is Amsterdam, so it must be Thursday

  1. Karla says:

    If you find that cat house I photographed in 1989, please let me know! 😉

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