Getting there

Slept in. Again. Highly irksome habit of mine that. However, by dint of some super driving on Dad’s part, I made it to the airport with the requisite 3hrs to spare. Hurrah! Shame then that KLM’s staff hadn’t been quite so diligent in their efforts to get there. One hour (and one stupidly expensive coffee) later and I was able to drop off my luggage.

Small problem arose when the machine took my ticket at face value and refused a label from Edinburgh to KL pressure seems, even the machine thought my ticket was a farce. Fortunately, there are a manual operation and I am hopeful that despite all contrary efforts of my luggage there to greet me in KL.

There have been major changes at the airport Edinburgh, not least of which seem to queue for security would be ginormous. Fortunately I was able to cozy hours (well, felt like hours blimmin anyway) admire the abundance of men in kilts, always a pleasure ladies I'm sure you will agree with me. One said the men really lifted entertainment bets when he lost control of his kilt and found it beautiful puddled around his ankles (bet the guard regrets that ask for specific belt lol). Myself and about 500 others are now in the fortunate position ofbeing able to act as witness to the legitemacy of his credentials as a true Scotsman (unfortunately he was not – for those of a curious bent).

Hmmm forget where I'm going with this, a little was the kilts you look distracted … oh and I bought a hat! The hat that I had taken on my last trip was about two sizes too big and I do not got to buying a new one. So you can imagine my delight when I spotted the perfect specimin in Accessorize, just begging to be purchased. Register dutifully obliged, but it was much harder than it be I need to tell you. Some bright spark had as it's a good idea, the top hats of the means 8-foot pole that you had to either give up the idea of buying one or flail about like a dying fish trying to knock it from it perch display. I opted for the later option (after inquiry into the possibility of a stepladder met with a negative) and I finally I manage to procure the chosen headgear. I then went on to sell another 5 hats (though I bought the first did), just because seller would only look as stupid as I reset all. A shared misery and all that …

Anyway, my hat, and I made it properly to Amsterdam, where he immediately froze a step off the plane my eyeballs immediately. At this piont I began to suspect that my cunning plan of socks and sandals (noble, I know) can not be quite sufficient to prevent the onset of hypothermia after all (the sock purists among you will be pleased to note I would even strives to ensure a matching pair!).

Thus, all plans to leave the city dare I squatted wherever EI was. 8 hours in the airport Schiphol. What can I say. It's a long time. A very long time indeed. I ate some food, bought a Clock (left my own on the sink, had just 7 pounds for a new battery also paid what a plonker), drank a mojito or 4 (virgin variety, but still rich), saw the aircraft , went to the library, strolled round the museum, stretched out on every comfortable chair, I spent (assuming it was not already clearly documented), read a little, listened to some music, went to (lots!), wrote this, and (I strongly suspect) is slowly went quietly mad. Never, never again.

Part of the trip: Stopping to draw breath

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Submited at Monday, February 14th, 2011 at 2:00 pm on Europe by blum
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