from the archives: my scotland experience

Saturday the 15th was departure day.
The flight didn't leave until 10 pm, however--that is one long day of anticipation. A few hours pre-flight, Dad checked out the prices for leaving a car at the airport's car-park for 8 days; exorbitant! We decided to call a cab.

7 pm; the "taxi" arrives--it's a swanky, black Cadillac with tinted windows...the driver is dressed in a suit...he takes and loads our luggage, opens our doors; now that's luxury. Though the enchantment faded a bit when he began talking nothing but real estate on the drive there...but at least his Eastern European accent was quite musical.:) Starting the trip with such VIP treatment was great, and surely a good omen. Even my realizing, once through airport security, that I had forgotten to pack even one hair-tie couldn't ruin that. ((Thank goodness airports are now mall-riffic, selling any and everything in their stores! Hair crisis averted.))
After feasting on chocolate-flavored skittles (which are atrocious, by the by) and watching the clock tick-tock, came the boarding call. This early-to-bed broad was ready to pass out by that time. I'm sure my near-overdose of Dramamine was also partially to blame...

The flight itself went surprisingly well. As anybody who knows me knows, I was pretty much in a constant state of flight-anxiety in the weeks preceding. I slept for most of it, but woke up and enjoyed some airplane food and the movie "Juno" before landing in Amsterdam. After landing and navigating our way through the massive Schipol Airport, we landed in the lower level near our gate. The security checkpoint was manned by the most bored people I have ever seen. The waiting area (D6L) smelled like piss. Literally. The walls were small-tiled lime green, dingy gray floors, crappy black chairs...but still. It's Europe!! Hooray! My family and I were pretty much the only people in our area, but rushing through the upper level earlier, I could see so many faces, notice so many shoes, hear so many various tongues...
Jordan decided Europe has a lot less attractive people than he had expected. I affirmed that there were many sour-faced expressions, which didn't help the pretty-points, but I had to remind him that we *were* in an airport--not the happiest of places, and certainly not all of a continent's worth of people (attractive or otherwise).

The Second Flight: Amsterdam to Edinburgh.
We were shuttled out to our plane on a bus; quite a drive actually. Two Scotsmen sat to my immediate right (first contact with the destination!) and one of my pessimistic predictions was fulfilled--I was straining to understand their thick brogues probably 2/3rds of the time. Best to accept the fact that one's genetic heritage does not equal the ability to speak (or hear) like a local. *sigh*
We left the shuttle and were on the cold, wet, windy tarmac. We actually climbed stairs directly into the aircraft, salvaging some of the glamor of a European vacation by reminding me of plane-boarding in movies. We then proceeded to taxi along some maze of runways to the one we would actually lift off from. We crossed over a large highway of sorts, and it looked very much like our own (of course?) Then we went over a canal, which was starkly carved out and amazingly straight; as were the trees in their row on either side of it. Finally, take-off! The majority of the passengers clapped their hands once we left the ground; another movie moment for sure. I was quite literally in the clouds then, looking out my window at the wing and the jet-engine and the pure white inside of condensed precipitation.
(Stay tuned for Part 2: Actual Scottish experiences guaranteed!)