Welcome to the Netherlands; Watch Your Step!

So, day 1 in Amsterdam has come to a close and I must reflect upon the day.

First, let’s rewind to 9:30 a.m. MDT, 15 May 2008 in Salt Lake City. My friend dropped me at the airport and I went through the usual song and dance, which was uneventful except for the TSA table nazi. “You really shouldn’t put things on this table, it contaminates it” she said to me. Before responding, I thought….”Am I supposed to deduce this because the table is so obviously clearly labeled as such, or because, well, I should b a mind reader?” However, as is expected in such situations, I answered without being a smartass. I told her I would be removing my things, but I had to put my shoes back on.

My flight to Houston was filled with many screaming brats, but, I was able to tolerate the three hours. I got to the airplane to board for Amsterdam and all is well. I had picked my seat months ago…I’m good to go. Or not. They rearranged seating – without telling me – and as such, I had a seat partner. In business/first, which I am used to, this is okay. In coach? Not so much. But, in spite of the sardine-like conditions, my seat mate ended up being really awesome. He is an American living in Guatemala and he was flying through Amsterdam on his way to Vienna for some big pharmaceutical meeting. He managed to down 6 Jack Daniel’s in the span of about 3 hours, then topped it off nicely with about 3 Ambien. But, before he managed to pass out, he bought a 7 pack of Toberlone’s from the duty-free shopping cart and gave me 2.

Once at AMS and through customs, it was onto the train into Amsterdam. Luckily, the Amsterdam Centraal Station is not far from here, however…as my luck would have it, I just had to pull a Dumbass American move. I’m walking up the road…la la la la and BAM! I stepped on what I thought was an innocent puddle of water and tripped on it. Now…at my height, 5 feet 10 inches, you never just fall. You go down flailing like a ton of bricks. The first words out of my mouth were “DAMN” followed by several rounds of “OW FUCK FUCK FUCK”. Luckily, it wasn’t too loud. But the coolest thing happened…some random stranger came over and said “Help the lady?” I was all, wow, people here are considerate? Back home they’d laugh and point and probably rather step on your face as opposed to look at you. But, I digress. I was pleased that someone offered to help, but, I managed to pull myself together and continue walking, albeit with went pants. But you know? Nobody really cared. Which is good – because I was dying of embarrassment inside!

I suppose one thing I need to get over is the fact I think everybody is looking at me here. I mean, it isn’t India. (Side note: I stayed in India for 4 months in 2006 and 3 months in 2007) Back in India, I was the 5 feet 10 inch, fair skinned, blue eyed, red headed woman…and that equals gawk, stare and otherwise make feel uncomfortable. Here, I look like the population thanks to my Danish heritage. W00T!

Tomorrow, I am off to Brussels and Antwerp. I have to go back to the place I came from today and subsequently tripped…so here is hoping that I will not make the same mistake!