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Trip Reports: Planes, Veins & Automobiles (Chapter 2)
Bonaire Talk: Trip Reports: Archives: Archives 2000 to 2005: Archives - 2001-05-19 to 2001-11-29: Planes, Veins & Automobiles (Chapter 2)
Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Andy Keely on Saturday, November 24, 2001 - 3:52 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

We divide out a family sized bottle of Asprin tablets between us & hurriedly pass a glass of water around as we all cough & choke in our attempts to get them down. Who thinks up these fashionable ailments for us to imagine that we are bound to catch at the next possible opportunity, despite having lived this far in blissful ignorance that the condition even existed? I mean...Deep Vein Thrombosis! Whatever next? To answer my first question. I guess it must be the drug companies, eh?
I've always had a soft spot for Norwich airport. Along with many other airfields scattered about Norfolk it came into existence during the second world war. For the next fifty years or so it stuggled to become a viable commercial concern & until very recently all business was conducted fron the original control tower. The terminal buildings comprised two Nissen huts. One served to keep the worst of the elements off the travelling public & the other housed the mower & other tools used by the gardener/operations manager to keep the grass & molehills down on the runway. Every flight was a major adventure & no-one would have been surprised to see Biggles (complete with leather flying jacket & white silk scarf) striding towards the cockpit before the plane took off. Sadly, KLM have taken charge of things & squeezed the last few remaining drops of history & character from the place. Sure it's now a safer place to travel from, but at a high price. A small piece of our heritage has been lost forever.
The journey to the airport passes uneventfully. At check-in I proudly produce the letter allowing us each an extra 22lbs of luggage allowance. I had to work hard to get this, especially with all the current travel restrictions that are in place. It had eventually cost me a fair sized box of chocolates which the equally fair sized KLM employee proceeded to cram into her mouth at an alarming rate, desperately trying to consume the entire box before her colleagues returned from their tea break. Greed & inconsideration to others seem to be essential personality requirements if you hope to make a worthwhile career with KLM. I'm drifting off the plot here a little, but it has to be said that service standards have dropped to an appallingly low level with this carrier. I really don't understand it as you'd think that with the current world troubles they'd be doing everything in their power to get more bums on seats.
So, the bags are all safely checked through after the two surly staff are content that all firearms larger than hand guns are stowed in the hold & not in our carry on bags. With an hour to kill, we wander off to the small stall that calls itself "Airport Shopping" & after a few minutes decide not to buy the Union Jack beach shorts or British Bulldog drinking mugs, but to save our cash for the delights of Amsterdams Schiphol Airport. You know how you descend into a state of suspended limbo whilst travelling? Well I was far away with the fairies when suddenly I was jolted back to reality as my name was called over the Tannoy system. I presented myself in the bowels of the building, at Area Four, as requested. There, I was greeted by two heavily armed guards plus two uniformed KLM employees. All seven of our bags (which had been electronically checked in as one unit) lay before me. "Good morning" I stuttered doing my best to appear jovial & relaxed, but failing miserably. "Who owns the red Samsonite?" was the curt reply. My heart sank. Of course, it had to be mine. I was instructed to slowly open the case to display its contents. I noticed the guards guns being raised fractionally as I struggled with the fiddly combination lock hidden behind the carrying handle. As the final number clicked into place, the heavily compressed rubber dive gear took this unexpected opportunity to launch itself skywards. I threw myself to the ground fully expecting a hail of bullets to spray the room! So, at least now I knew what it took to get a smile out of 'em. As I got to my feet all four were trying desperately not to laugh aloud. A thorough rummage through what remained in the case revealed the offending article, a twelve pound battery pack which powers the lighting on my video housing. After a quick demonstration I was allowed to spend the next ten minutes trying to get everything packed back in again. Closing the door behind me as I left them, I heard the room errupt with howls of laughter interspersed with the banging of fists on table tops.
Schiphol is a great place! You could spend £100+ to get into a strip club in Soho, London, & still not see the things on open display, for free in Schiphol. And the Dutch folk? Weeeell...they seem to fall into two categories. Half could be mistaken for middle class English (yes, we still have a class system here & don't let anyone tell you otherwise!), whilst the others resemble something from "Mrs Doubtfire meets the Werewolf"!
The latter have heavy Troll like features & sport prodigious amounts of facial hair which appears to be attempting to escape from every available orifice it can find. Indeed, as Marcia so aptly put it...."That guy has a face like a split sofa!"
I guess there must be one helluva lot of ricketty bridges in Holland for them all to live under. Guess I ought to quickly mention here that Martin.....fear not. You're definitely one of the English lookalikes (Lord help you!).
As flights go, so this one went, & ten miserable hours later we found ourselves disembarking into the hot,sweet & sticky night air of Bonaires Flamingo terminal. What a desperate place! Have you ever noticed that before you reach the Customs check point there, you have to spend at least 15 minutes just outside the terminal doorway to be processed by the mosquitoes first? Finally the worst is over & the seven of us lurch out of baggage reclaim to be greeted by by Cora, the Lagoen Hill rep & Martin who's holding aloft a large hand written sign saying MR PANTS. I hastily greet Martin & arrange to meet him at 08:00 at his hotel, the following morning. Although never having met her before, because of the numerous e-mails we've exchanged during the "construction" of the vacation, Cora seems like an old friend. I lean forward to kiss her & Marcia quickly chimes in saying "No tongues!" Priceless! It's not often that we find the same things amusing but that crack sure hit the spot. Giggling like a naughty schoolboy, I dribbled down my chin & Cora promptly repelled my affectionate advances. Despite my earnest assurances that I was only going to give her a "peck" on the cheek! She led us to the car rental depot to collect our two twin cab pick up trucks. Following a short arguement with the truck rental company about why we are signing for 3/4 full tanks when both read 1/4 we load the gear on board & after the alarm on "mine" has gone off for the second time, head for the hills.

Well, at least we've made it to the island today. Who knows, I might even get around to recalling a dive in tomorrows epistle.

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Dean Botsford on Saturday, November 24, 2001 - 8:15 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

Another chapter, another round of laughing. The suitcase scene I thought was the topper until the comment 'helluva lotta ricketty bridges'. If I was a coffee drinker I would be cleaning up right now. Can't wait for the next round. Thanks!

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Susan R. on Saturday, November 24, 2001 - 11:10 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

I think I ruptured something I am laughing so hard, Keep 'em coming Sir Andy!

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Dave Scott on Saturday, November 24, 2001 - 11:53 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

hey..rudyard jr... I enjoy the prose but I got to catch a plane on tuesday morning...get on with it man. I'm waiting to hear the not so good stuff you were talking about.

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Andy Keely on Saturday, November 24, 2001 - 12:14 pm:     Edit PostPrint Post

If you're only gone for a week or so I probably won't be dealing with it till you're back!

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Dave Scott on Saturday, November 24, 2001 - 12:38 pm:     Edit PostPrint Post

3 weeks. I think I know what you are going to talk about. guess I'll have to wait then.

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Carole Baker on Saturday, November 24, 2001 - 3:09 pm:     Edit PostPrint Post

Ah, we have not been disappointed by "Sir Andrew Talks-A-Lot"! That is meant to be taken in an endearing way, Andy. Simply engrossing material and we await the next installment....of course, with baited (?) breath! Carole (Shutterbug)

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Andy Keely on Saturday, November 24, 2001 - 5:01 pm:     Edit PostPrint Post

Not doing the Prudho trip without me I hope, Dave?

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Dave Scott on Saturday, November 24, 2001 - 6:52 pm:     Edit PostPrint Post

of course not, this is the fiji trip.

 

Top of pagePrevious messageNext messageBottom of page Link to this message  By Andy Keely on Sunday, November 25, 2001 - 1:53 am:     Edit PostPrint Post

Fiji.....Prudho? It's all the same to me. I still feel that I'm being left behind.
Have a good 'un! (or two)

 


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