Keep Calm and Carry On

June 29^th, 2011

I am sure everyone plans a trip overseas thinking it will go off with Rick Steves precision.  We have traveled before and know that things can go wrong.  Twenty years ago Sam was due to meet my plane in Munich, it was delayed for 4 hours and he ended up sleeping in a train station.  I am hesitant to write about this because I don't want those following my blog to think this is going to be one long whine.  Bear with me here, I promise much more insightful and optimistic blog posts in the future.  Besides, to sugarcoat things would be misleading and I want this blog to be about the good, bad and the ugly.  Our delay in Detroit was just long enough to ensure that we would not make our 10:00 a.m. flight to Edinburgh.  Despite grabbing our carry on bags and sprinting to our gate down 1 and ½ concourses, we were told we could not board the plane even though the plane was still at the gate.  We are told to go to yet another concourse to rebook our flight.  So, after having not slept all night we go to rebook our flight. 

I don’t claim to be any kind of organizational genius but the system they had set up for folks like us to rebook missed flights was extraordinarily bureaucratic and like something straight out of the former Soviet Union.  Take a number and wait and wait and wait…..and then wait some more.  Smartly dressed KLM employees appear to be helpful by showing people where they can pull a tab and get a number for this interminable wait.  Meanwhile, computer kiosks surrounding the re-ticketing area go unused because they do not work.  You can scan your passport but the computer says you are not in the system. 

Finally, our number is called we are hopeful to get on the 4:00 flight, but the best that could be done was the last flight at 9:00 that evening.  So after staying up all night we are faced with the prospect of trying to make our tired selves comfortable for 8 hours while we wait to catch our flight.  The KLM employee who rebooked our flight gives us “free” food vouchers and directs us to one of several lounge areas where we could finally relax.  Luckily it was in the same concourse.

I have never had to avail myself of one of these lounge areas but we found the lounge area near the Interdenominational Meditation Room, a large glass partitioned room with little privacy and a lobby filled with various brochures.  The lounge was eerily quiet and strewn with what looked like faux leather beach loungers and a carpeted platform all littered with the bodies of other sleeping passengers in the same predicament we found ourselves.  Airline pillows and blankets were tossed about on the loungers and folks were laid out just like at the beach except this was no beach and no one was getting a tan.  Some folks had covered themselves from head to toe with the blankets including their faces to block out any light which had the effect of making the place seem more like a morgue than a lounge.


Grabbing a lounger, I throw on my neck pillow, take off my shoes and begin to decompress.  While the lounge area was very quiet, being shielded from the constant flow of airport announcements, it was not completely quiet.  The odd traveler or airport employee would pass through the area wheeling a cart or loudly clicking their heels on the tile while it echoed off the walls which had the effect of delaying sleep.  Finally, sleep comes. 

Waking up after a little while, I decide I simply must lay down.  I go over to the carpeted platform with my pillow and blanket in hand, cover myself head to toe and become another body in the morgue.  Neither the loungers or the floor are particularly comfortable and I begin to wonder if I would benefit more from a yoga session than sleep.

When 4:00 rolls around we were all rested and somewhat refreshed and decide to explore the Amsterdam Airport and find something to eat.  I fold up my blanket and stack the pillow on top.  Across the way I notice a man on a rug in the Interdenominational Meditation Room kneeling and praying.  As we pass by I noticed the pamphlets in the lobby. Many of the pamphlets pamphlet are about how to get help for psychological problems in several languages.   

The Amsterdam Airport is like any other large International Airport in many ways.  Lots of bustling activities happening in every language imaginable.  Smartly dressed airline workers hurry to their worksites.  Turkish grandmas (all in the same buttoned up long raincoat I swear) look after grandchildren.  A woman with a British accent makes very precise announcements in English and then proceeds to repeat the message in flawless Dutch, German, etc.  She often warns passengers by name that they are late and delaying their flight….if they don’t come soon “we will be forced to offload your luggage.”  We find the inevitable gift shops with wooden shoes and Thomas tries on a pair for effect.  

Thomas relaxing in the "Mini Rijkes Museum in the Amsterdam Airport

Our search for food turns up some pleasant surprises.  Maybe I was just hungry but even the boys pizza tasted fresher and more interesting than the typical oversalted, greasy American variety.  Sam managed to find a whole grain bagette with prosciutto while I found a locally grown Dutch apple of a variety I wish I could remember and some sort of delicious ham pastry and a freshly made smoothie type drink. 

Having satisfied our appetites we walk around and find of all things an Art Museum in an airport.  The Rijk’s Museum in Amsterdam has set up a small museum of sorts complete with 17^th century still lifes by Dutch Masters and for a little while I was in heaven.  What a great idea!  Next to the museum was a quirky children's play area with odd comfortable seating.  We relax again.  I find a huge chair shaped like a giant egg; well padded inside like a womb and I climb inside.  The play area has a baby grand piano and a Chinese woman  (yet another delayed passenger) sits down and begins to play her heart out.  She is really good and I fall asleep for the second time.