An American Rogue in Europe: Chapter Three and Four

Any adventure worth going on takes a lot of preparation. Just think about "Lord of the Rings," they spent like an hour and a half before they ever started towards Mordor. It only took me two blogs before the actual trip part of this trip journal kicked in.

Chapter Three: The Amsterdam Hustle

Passport in hand, Ella and I arrived far too early for our flight from Dallas/Fort Worth,
but in plenty of time to get shafted on prices of airport food. Bellies full we sat and waited for our European adventure to begin in earnest.

Here I must say a special thank you to DFW. Ella and I have been without cable for almost two months now and so I am somewhat behind the times as far as current events are concerned. Even when we did have cable I never watched CNN or Headline News and boy was I missing out! I had no idea that Wolf Blitzer's new (not so new anymore) show, "The Situation Room" was so thoroughly enjoyable. A friend had described it as "news for ADD adults"
but you really don't understand until you've seen it firsthand. Wolf strolls back and forth in front of a bank of monitors pointing at and discussing (never very thoroughly) the sensationalistic events of the day.

"Here's an explosion!" "This is a riot going on in Paris." "Ooh! A hurricane!" It's really quite fascinating.

Wolf's dulcet tones (by the way, what are the odds that "Wolf" is his real name?) sped the time by and shortly we were in the air...or at least on the runway. It seemed the fates weren't ready to let me go just yet and planned on toying with me a little longer. A storm system was literally surrounding DFW airport and the flight tower wasn't letting anyone off the ground. Our hour and a half layover in Memphis became an hour, then a half-hour and then...takeoff. Our pilot (surely a meteorological genius) had found a hole in the storm and we were given clearance from the tower. We knew it was going to be a close call whether or not we made our connecting flight to Amsterdam. I figured it was a win-win situation. Either we'd make the flight and get to spend our planned afternoon in Amsterdam or we'd miss it, take a later flight, still make our final flight to Germany and get some free flights as compensation for the delay. I was familiar with the "if we screw up, give them a free flight" protocol because it sent Ella on a free trip to Boston a year ago. I love that policy by the way. If they complain, give them free stuff until they go away. It works for McDonald's and it works for the airlines, only the price tag of the comps changes.

Halfway through our flight to Memphis we got the news that we would make it in time for our trans-Atlantic flight, but without any time to spare. And I don't mean with little time to spare. I mean none. We got off at gate B-4 and our connection was leaving (immanently) from Gate B34. I never ran with the bulls in Pompeii, nor am I particularly interested in doing so, but I imagine it looks a lot like we did running down that corridor. Ella skillfully dodging, jumping and circumventing obstacles and fellow travellers, while my bloated (probably slobbering) carcass tried to keep time with her. I've been to Amsterdam now, I know it's a charming little city, but I mean the people of the Netherlands no ill will when I say an afternoon in Amsterdam was probably not worth that run and what it cost my health and dignity.

Chapter Four: The $24000 Question

As this account is eventually published, and for years from now whenever we tell the story of our trip, one question is almost guaranteed to come up, "Did you smoke pot in Amsterdam?"

I can, without reservation, say that I (and Ella) did not partake in the greenest of local pastimes. I was a Theatre student in college, I'm a writer by profession and an artist (if only in my mind). I'm about as open minded on this subject as I could be, believing in and supporting decriminalization in the U.S. and yes, I experimented once upon a time and I did inhale. But on this trip, in this place, I had no high more potent than a good beer and a bit of disorientation from my first high altitude flight.

You might be asking, "If you think it's alright, you've already done it before and it's not only legal but encouraged there, why not?"

I've got three reasons.

1. I had only just caught my breath from the run in Memphis, why do something to hinder my lung function further?

2. I'm a little older and wiser now (I'd like to think so anyway) and would rather remember the trip than "the trip."

3. I have to admit, having it legal, available and above board rids it of some of the appeal. When someone smokes pot in America, they are a free-thinker, a rebel, a dissenter. When you smoke pot in Amsterdam you're the 1,000th customer today...and a sucker for high priced snack vendors.

Coming Soon -- Chapter Five: Tulips, Wooden Shoes and Dykes, The Drunken Rogue in the Smoky City