Day Five: Back to Life, Back to Reality
I was up early so I could have a run to work off all that cheese and the nervous energy I always seem to accumulate on days that I have to fly. I am not the world's best flyer. I'm not the worst, either, but it's sure not my favourite part of traveling. After my run, I packed my rucksack while Peter got ready and then we set off for Centraal Station. I had already scouted the place out and knew that we could use the lockers to stow our stuff until it was time for the train. Mission accomplished, we spent the last few hours in Amsterdam wandering around and doing a little shopping. Hey, there was a Waterstone's right there and you can ALWAYS use another airplane book.
I actually have a very strict rule for my airplane reading – it has to be a mystery or a suspense novel. My theory is that I am then able to channel all my flying anxieties and fears into the book. Instead of being afraid of flying, I can transfer all that energy and invest it into the book. It makes the book more suspenseful because I am fully engaged in the reading and it also keeps my mind off the idea that we're 25,000 feet off the ground in a giant mailing tube.
Part of our wandering took us window shopping up Amsterdam's answer to Henry Street. We passed a shoe store that had the most kick-ass ass-kicking boots I'd ever seen. No, that's not a redundancy. They were big and black, with extraneous tough-looking buckles and studs. The best bit though were the flames painted on the sides. They were great boots. Peter encouraged me to take a look at them and think about getting them, but I told him there was no way, I don't have the street cred to wear boots like this.
Peter: So, if you'd seen these boots the first time you were in Amsterdam and you'd had the scratch, would you have bought them?
Me: Without a doubt. Although, those boots would have changed my entire life.
Peter: What do you mean?
Me: Well, if I'd had those boots, I probably wouldn't have canceled my trip to Berlin. I wouldn't have made 2 trips to Dublin. I would never have met you. I would have gone to Berlin, met some punk artist guy and ended up falling in love, dropping out of law school, staying in Berlin, and living in a squat with artist man.
Peter: But you're still living in a squat with an artist man.
Me: (After recovering from laughter) Good point, but at least we're not living in abject squalor.
When it was time to leave, we collected our baggage from the locker and then went back out to one of the canals so I could leave a little bit of Grandma. The train ride back to Schiphol was no trouble at all and we found our way around the immense airport with little difficulty.
The only weird thing about flying out of Schiphol is how they operate their security checks. There isn't one set point for security. Each gate has its own metal detector and x-ray machine. But the gates are only operational when a flight is scheduled to use it. So you congregate in the gate area until you get kicked out by the security crew.
They chase everyone out and then perform a thorough security check. They look under seats, move stuff around, carefully examine every potential hide-y hold in the gate area. Only then to they begin the security checks of people. It's sort of a pain, if you need to use the bathroom, to go through security again. But unlike the folks at Charles de Gaulle, they are efficient and are only checking the passengers for a single flight.
We had an uneventful flight back to Dublin, where Peter's sister picked us up to return us to our real lives. Peter was happy to get home. I could have traveled a bit more though. It was a good trip and notable for the absence of marital discord. Slowing myself down to Peter's pace eliminated the tension we usually experience on these trips. I don't know if I'd want to have every trip like that, but it's not a bad thing to slow down every now then.
I actually have a very strict rule for my airplane reading – it has to be a mystery or a suspense novel. My theory is that I am then able to channel all my flying anxieties and fears into the book. Instead of being afraid of flying, I can transfer all that energy and invest it into the book. It makes the book more suspenseful because I am fully engaged in the reading and it also keeps my mind off the idea that we're 25,000 feet off the ground in a giant mailing tube.
Part of our wandering took us window shopping up Amsterdam's answer to Henry Street. We passed a shoe store that had the most kick-ass ass-kicking boots I'd ever seen. No, that's not a redundancy. They were big and black, with extraneous tough-looking buckles and studs. The best bit though were the flames painted on the sides. They were great boots. Peter encouraged me to take a look at them and think about getting them, but I told him there was no way, I don't have the street cred to wear boots like this.
Peter: So, if you'd seen these boots the first time you were in Amsterdam and you'd had the scratch, would you have bought them?
Me: Without a doubt. Although, those boots would have changed my entire life.
Peter: What do you mean?
Me: Well, if I'd had those boots, I probably wouldn't have canceled my trip to Berlin. I wouldn't have made 2 trips to Dublin. I would never have met you. I would have gone to Berlin, met some punk artist guy and ended up falling in love, dropping out of law school, staying in Berlin, and living in a squat with artist man.
Peter: But you're still living in a squat with an artist man.
Me: (After recovering from laughter) Good point, but at least we're not living in abject squalor.
When it was time to leave, we collected our baggage from the locker and then went back out to one of the canals so I could leave a little bit of Grandma. The train ride back to Schiphol was no trouble at all and we found our way around the immense airport with little difficulty.
The only weird thing about flying out of Schiphol is how they operate their security checks. There isn't one set point for security. Each gate has its own metal detector and x-ray machine. But the gates are only operational when a flight is scheduled to use it. So you congregate in the gate area until you get kicked out by the security crew.
They chase everyone out and then perform a thorough security check. They look under seats, move stuff around, carefully examine every potential hide-y hold in the gate area. Only then to they begin the security checks of people. It's sort of a pain, if you need to use the bathroom, to go through security again. But unlike the folks at Charles de Gaulle, they are efficient and are only checking the passengers for a single flight.
We had an uneventful flight back to Dublin, where Peter's sister picked us up to return us to our real lives. Peter was happy to get home. I could have traveled a bit more though. It was a good trip and notable for the absence of marital discord. Slowing myself down to Peter's pace eliminated the tension we usually experience on these trips. I don't know if I'd want to have every trip like that, but it's not a bad thing to slow down every now then.
posted by -Ann at
3:17 PM
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