Twelve hours to kill in Amsterdam. What do I do?

What do you do with an extra 12 hours stuck in a foreign city? This was the dilemma that I faced a few weeks ago when I arrived at Amsterdam Schipol. I had woken up very early to get to the airport in time. My father taught me that when ever I was travelling, it was better to wait than rush. So, at 0400AM, I left Enschede in Eastern Holland for the airport. I was right on time. In fact the arrival at the airport gave me more than three hours to kill.

Confidently, I cleared airport formalities which involved being stripped near naked. In my wisdom, I was wearing steel toe capped boots. Isn't it funny watchung a queue of people in a public place all in varying states of underss? The shoes and the socks all going into these non discript boxes to go through the scanner!! And then one is asked to stand in a shower cubicle like contraption, make a star shape while standing. I knew it that someone was watching a xray like image of me naked.Next time I have it in good mind to arrive naked just to piss them off!

So made my way to the departure lounge and through to the gate when boarding was called. Can someone tell me why there is no gate 1? Some of these gates at Schipol are in the next county! As luck would have it, Easyjet opts for those and the stroll to the gate degenerates into a trot by all passengers as EasyJet doesn't do seat reservations. Bags flying (steel toe capped boots falling off) I arrived at the gate and the plane was there. All in its glory. A nice orange and white airbus A320 ready to take me back home to England! Patiently, I made my way to the front of the queue and presented my boarding pass. The lady read it through the scanner one, twice and three times. No go. So she decided t o read it instead. My flight was at 2200hours!!!! This mug face here had read 2200hours as 1000hours in the 24 hour clock. Dyslexia can do amazing things!!! I was 12 hours early for my flight.

No pleading could convice that woman to let me on that plane. I could feel the eyes in the queue behind me boring through the back of my head. I couldn't use my usual excuse of not knowing English. I had been so polite to the woman in near perfect English. I was told to wait for my flight which was 12 hours away.

People talk about "cold sweats". I felt one of them. So, I made my way back to the arrivals. I couldn't believe it! I was clearing immigration again, getting back into a country I was thinking I had just departed from. I had 12 hours ahead of me with dwindling cash reserves. What was I going to do in Amsterdam for 12 hours?

Read on later................