two. AMSTERDAM.
so years ago, on march 17th. i departed from my lovely maison around 6:45 am to head to gare du nord and hope a THALYS train to amsterdam to meet abby. yayayayaya.
i got up, did not sleep a bit, headed to gare du nord. got there over an hour early. over zealous? chilled. on a bench. in the cold open air train station. waiting.
tick tick tick tick tick. the old school departure board. tick tick tick. changing every few minutes. i repeat. over an hour.
tick tick tick tick. FINALLY. my train. i head to the gate and board the train, and so the usual shenanigans begin. cue couple not speaking english. awkard look at tickets, look at seat, look at tickets, look at other seat. i know the maneuver. puh-lease. let me guess. you two THINK you booked your tickets side by side. you are seats 35 and 36, but it turns out 36 and 37 are adjacent. i am seat 37. interesting predicament. two can play this game muchacho. i read my book. reading. reading. CAVE. i can't. i feel too bad. i get up. gesture to my seat.... he speaks!
"ah, thank you so much".... come again? you speak english. and you wouldn't ask me. as i sat. reading my english book. oy. so i move. settle in my new seat. and pass out.
tap tap. mumbles in french, gestures to seat. no. no one is sitting there buddy. ALL YOU. i go back to sleep. tap tap. conductor needs my ticket. go back to sleep. an hour or so later i wake up. it is now a reasonable hour in europe and i have some emails and bbms awaiting. i begin to respond. i feel eyes on me. i turn. the business man who had asked me for my seat has his eyes GLUED on my bberry. glued.
i look up. smile. i know. so NOT french. whatever.
he is still looking. not blinking. finally. he speaks. "your hands so strong" he types harshly on a fake blackberry in the air. i laugh. unsure of how to respond. and continue. l'oops.
as the train nears amsterdam i get an email. from abby. her blackberry doesn't work. she has found a computer in baggage claim. will i be getting off at the airport or in central station.
i have no idea. announcements are in dutch, french, and english. the english is in an accent i can't quite grasp. and i know the final stop is central station but have no idea what the airport is called. FML.
we email back and forth. i try to get some information. not sure where to start. finally we figure out i can get off in the airport. i do. emails continue.
what gate are you. where will you be coming from. she cannot leave the computer to ask because she will lose contact with me. she can not walk out of baggage claim to check because there will be no other computer. predicament. i scramble to figure out where she is. finally we conclude she will exit via arrival gate 3. we decide to meet there.
final email: under no circumstances can you leave arrival gate 3 until you find me.
like duh abbs. i wait. i linger. i wait. every time the sliding doors open i perk up. nope. not abbs. FINALLY. she exits through the doors and we reunite love actually style.
we head to the center of town. find our hotel. drop bags off and embark on the beginning of what turns out to be the most junk food i have ever consumed in two days. no complaints. we walk the whole city without knowing it. up and down, weaving in and out of canals. we try french fries, waffles, anything they're selling.
over the weekend we see anne frank's house, museums, heineken factory, i am amsterdam. we see and walk it all. as we head to the train station on the last day i am run over by a bicycle. the woman assures me it was my fault. i am in complete shock, unable to speak aside from incessant apologies. abby is stunned. we catch an afternoon train back to paris. and the real fun begins...
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