Red Tape meets Red Light

Location: AMSTERDAM, HOLLAND, THE NETHERLANDS

How do I write about Amsterdam while avoiding taboo topics much like I avoided them during the vacation? Well, I would start by saying that I really did just want to see the Anne Frank Huis and the canals. And that all the coffee shops I patronized sold ONLY coffee. And that any window I looked into did not have a semi-naked girl staring back at me. Well, that isn’t completely true, but I did not go closer than any diseases could jump.

What I can say is that this weekend was a weekend of awakened understandings. I knew when I decided to go to the “Sin City” of Europe that I would have to bob and weave smoke clouds. Not only is any drug use while holding a security clearance grounds for dismissal, but even if it wasn’t, I want to be able to check NO drug usage on my next security clearance and also show responsibility and self-control.

I wanted to dismiss myself while on a tour of the RDL from being further educated on the latest and most disturbing of fetishes and their availability (and according to our guide, for the price of a 50€ bill) in the District. After seeing another sign for happy brownies and Russian girls, I opted for a few 4€ pints and some French fries. I was the real high roller.

And at the end of our 24 hour trip, I was ready to get out of there. There are only so many museums, canals and “safe” coffeehouses that one can visit before the red lights and smoke clouds blindside a tourist. Standing at the train tracks, I first heard the announcement in Dutch. I caught about every fifth word, but I did hear geannuleerde. And then again, I heard aufgehoben. By the time the announcer said cancelled in English, I was running down the stairs to the ticketing counter, leaving Gwen on the grimy train platform.

Amongst the confusion of thirty languages shouting and swearing, I gathered that a major storm had hit the coasts of Spain, Portugal and France, killing many people, and was now on course with The Netherlands and Germany. In anticipation, Germany had cancelled every mode of public transportation in and out of Germany. That meant the train that I so desperately wanted to be on, leaving me in the city of which I was quickly tiring. Quickly, the rumors began swirling. They were closing us out at 9 pm into the freezing cold of A’dam to find our own sleeping arrangements. We were sleeping on a train. The German government wasn’t paying for our transportation.

 The truth was scarier. About three hours after the cancellation, they announced that anyone who wanted to go to Germany needed to get on the inner-city train leaving Amsterdam for the Germany/Holland border. From there, they were planning on busing us home. We quickly gathered up our bags, and apprehensively, we left presumably on our way to a 20 hour bus ride through nasty German weather. We got to the border, hoped on the bus and were bused to Oberhausen. Then it was announced we were getting on the ICE for Frankfurt. After a two hour layover in Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof, we got onto another ICE and arrived in Munich three hours after our anticipated arrival.

Work had started an hour earlier, but judging from the drool on my shoulder and mascara on my cheek, I opted for a personal day and went home to bed. It was time for my awakened understandings to be put to rest.