Saturday morning:
Sleeping in is rarely a good way to start the day. Especially when you need to be up way earlier than your body wishes you to be. In my defense though, it wasn’t my fault this time. The hotel receptionist had taken my request for a wake-up call in person the night before, but for some reason it hadn’t made it to the clerk responsible for handling them in the morning. Which was a problem because I had an early flight scheduled out of Schiphol airport in Amsterdam and the shuttle was supposed to have picked me up 10 minutes ago.
So as I threw my stuff into my bag and pulled on the clothes I was wearing yesterday, I wondered how come, even if the reception desk had neglected to wake me as promised, they hadn’t at least called my room to let me know the shuttle had arrived. I soon learned the answer to that one. The shuttle hadn’t arrived. The winter storm which had brought Amsterdam to an almost complete standstill had been enough to cause the cancellation of the shuttle service. Something which would have been nice to know a little earlier than 30 minutes after I needed to leave for the airport.
Fortunately, at least some of the city’s taxis were still running and we were soon on our way through the near deserted streets. The snow and ice blanketing the city leant an air of peace and tranquility to the scene. With the absence of motorized traffic and Amsterdam’s picturesque architecture serving as a backdrop for this winter wonderland, one could be forgiven for thinking that we’d been transported back to a simpler, gentler time.
But then we arrived at the airport.
Apparently the entire population of Europe was attempting to leave from Schiphol Airport this morning and few were succeeding. The press of bodies was claustrophobic and knowing that I was by now, disturbingly short of time, I tried not to panic as I elbowed my way through the throng. I haven’t yet made it to Calcutta but I’ve seen footage of the melees which occur at the railway station and I suspect the experience is something like this. It was very frustrating to be able to see where I wanted to be but be physically unable to get there.
I needn’t have worried. When I eventually reached the gate, it was to learn that like many others, my flight wasn’t going anywhere for a while. Unlike some of the others though, our problem wasn’t getting out of Amsterdam, but landing in London, which was dealing with the same winter storm, apparently with even less success than Amsterdam. I didn’t even want to go to London; I just happened to be connecting through there on my way to Glasgow, where I planned to spend a couple of days with me dear ol’ Ma before heading home to the States.
“What I’m going to do is take you off this flight.” Said the jug-eared child in the uniform of an airline employee. “You can book a new flight at the British Airways desk.”
“But wait,” I responded “What if there isn’t another flight? I’ll just be stuck here then, won’t I?”
“No flights are leaving Gatwick, so you’d be no better off even if you got there, you’d still be stuck.”
Now I knew that if the entire airport was anything like the rugby scrum I’d just fought my way through, and I suspected it was, then the odds of me getting a seat on another flight were slim to anorexic. And I most certainly wasn’t going to willingly give up my confirmed seat on an existing flight, however unlikely it might be to get off the ground.
“I’ll take my chances, thanks.” I told him, and settled down with my book.
After a little while, the captain came and stood on a chair to address us. He seemed like a kindly soul but even he had no idea whether or not we’d be leaving today. Not the first time he came up. Or the second. Or even the third, although by now, even the slowest among us had figured out that we wouldn’t be dining on airline pretzels today.
For a while, it looked as though we might not be dining on anything, but finally the airline admitted that we could leave the gate for a while and I headed for one of Schiphol airport’s dining establishments to ease my rumbling tum. You know what really goes down a treat when you’ve been up for way too long and are expecting your flight to be cancelled? A nice, frosty mug of beer, that’s what. Not that I was going to be enjoying any though.
“They just made an announcement 30 minutes ago.” The waitress told me. “No alcohol sales within the airport for the rest of the day.”
“What?” I bleated, “This is exactly when we need it!”
“No, some people have been here since Wednesday and apparently some of them are getting violent. So, no alcohol, sorry.”
Oh, the humanity.
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