Anyway, we are flying on May 1st at 11 am from Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam. That morning we leave loaded with Fruitella and peppermint towards Schiphol. We enter the departure hall around 0815, usually right on schedule. There is a very long line for 1 specific check-in counter. Exactly, that’s my line, I don’t even have to check the signs: trust me, this is just my line. Of course we checked in electronically, but nobody cares. For your baggage drop off you just go in the same row. Who cam eup with that: that electronic check-in. A few spots in front of us, some stupid woman has forgotten to apply for an ESTA and instead of letting the her bleed for her own mistake, the whole line has to bleed for her mistake. 3 counter girls leave their desks and calmly help her to arrange an ESTA last minute, leaving the rest of the queue out to dry
Long story short: We have to run to meet our boarding time. We can forget about eating, peeing, and buying a book. Thanks to the stupid c**t who doesn’t know what an ESTA is.
A lot has improved since the last time I flew intercontinental: Private screen, power plug, very relaxed. Legroom is still shit though!
Anyway, I anticipated this. I have well behaved children, the oldest does not have to go to the toilet at all and the youngest only once. GG on a 11+ hour flight anyway. Of course the food (wet beer mats with a white cornflour sauce) is horrendous at best, luckily they keep serving Coke. The stewardess is so old, I think she still did an internship in a zeppelin. Jesus I think she is definitely in her 70’s. Granny can’t pour a Coke because she shivers heavily and sprays everything she pours in, so she just ends up giving us the whole can. Thanks! She also forgets a few times that we were already served, but we are Dutch, take everything you get and don’t bat an eye. At a certain moment we have (I sit with the children in 1 row, my wife is on the other side of the aisle.) 8 cans of Coke LEFT. Nice man, free Coke. This is what I call holiday.
We touch the groundin Houston. I still have some Brazilian monopoly money and exchange it at some hardcore nosebleed rate, but who cares. I buy another few Cokes for me and the boys and juice for my wife and in the meantime I text message a buddy from home, I forgot how to go about with the ATMs in the US. ALWAYS refuse suggested exchange rate and simply take the rate as it is. Your rate be about 10% better. I make my withdrawal and and walk around with a bag of dollars. I get $ 500 in $ 20s. Awesome. Half the fun of Vegas is the stack of dollars in your pocket. I do some small purchases, a burger, postcards, a roll of sweets etc. and soon I have a whole wad of smaller bills. Childish, I know, but I like it.
A little later we fly to Vegas. The weather is crappy, so no magical landing in Vegas. It comes truly pours. Once on the ground everything goes really fast. You pack your suitcase and you’re in Vegas. I order a Lyft (I found a coupon that is good for $ 5 discount on the first 10 rides.)And tell the taxi driver where I want to go and that he should not dare to take the tunnel or try and longhaul. He takes us to the motel. All good. I check in and we go and see our room. Well it’s a motel, what can you say? The bed is clean, that’s the most important thing. The floor is so gross that nobody actually dares to go barefoot, but hey, who cares. We are going straight to bed around 9 p.m. everyone is deadtired, we have been on the road for 22 hours The oldest is first watching TV for hours, the youngest and my wife are asleep as soon as their head touches the pillow.
