Welcome to Amsterdam. We've No Idea Who You Are.

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Okay. So we spent a day flying and what have you to get to Amsterdam via Frankfurt. And what can you say about such a thing except that even with being in business class, that sort of thing still sucks.

For the record, I want it known that I did not threaten to open the hatch and toss that screaming child out into the ether. I would not, however, have stopped anyone if they had made the attempt. Nor would his parents, I imagine, who somewhat miraculously managed to sleep through all of his wailing. If only the rest of us were so lucky.

Oh. And those fancy new lay-flat seats? What an exceptionally loose interpretation of the word "flat." Probably considerably closer to it than what was going on back in steerage. God pity those souls. And "lay-flat seat" is probably a catchier marketing phrase than "slide-into-the-carpet-repeatedly seat."

But here we are in Amsterdam. Tonight we shall venture forth into the steamy underbelly of it all, being the heathens that we are. And tomorrow, we're going exploring, which always makes for good blogging.

In the meantime, we're bumbling around trying to figure out public transport, which isn't very exciting. So I'll spare you the pleasure of watching that paint dry.

I will, however, leave you with this thought:

We walked into this country today clutching our passports and prepared for the full cavity search. It never happened. Hell ... they never even stamped the book, which they managed to do in Frankfurt even though it was done with all the concern of picking lint out of your navel. So having been given the evil eye and the third degree every time I've returned to the U.S. as a citizen of my own country, I was wondering today just what's up.

Is it that they're naive on this part of the ocean? Or do they not have anything invested in perpetuating the business of terror?

And for those who say they haven't experienced it, I say to you two words: Anne Frank.

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Photos

Our Home Away From Home
Where all the magic happened. This photo is for Don, our airplane devotee.

The View From The Hotel
I think there's a guy in the black building taking a picture of us while we're taking a picture of him.

Why Do They Call It The Purest Shop In Town?
There's a coffee shop right outside of our hotel. But it doesn't seem to smell like coffee when I walk past. I think I saw some baked goods, though. Can anyone explain this?

Comments

[Cheryl]

Space cakes. That's all I'm saying.

[SFArchitectBear]

Missing you all ready
Greetings from Ronda and the boys at home. We miss you mucho. Glad you arrived safe and sound even if it wasn't as good as a private jet. Hope you have fun tonight and don't forget to SLEEP. Love, The Del Vale Bandits

[deleted_42325]

It's funny. I've always had the opposite experience. I haven't landed in Germany since 1999. But, remember you entered the EU in Germany, Schiphol was just an internal flight. Omigod! You're in my favorite city, from which the fates have kept me for four looooong years! Don't forget: Stroopwafels and Mergpijpen (it means marrow bone, but you want not the meat kind, but the marzipan and chocolate kind) in the cookie section of Albert Heijn and at any Friets stand, Patatjes Oorlog (French Fry War, I want pictures). Rusty check your email! Have fun.

[RRyan]

Passport
Yeah, I was pretty disappointed the last time I entered the EU. I travelled all over and got one passport stamp in Paris! They only stamp your passport upon entry to an EU country. Intercontinenetal travel is now like travelling from SF to New Mexico. Oh well, Cheryl and I are holding down the fort!

[Keith]

Well...
Color me green. The envy thing, don't actually do it, or I'll have you use some Fusion!! (Kenneth understands)