1. There's No Business Like Snow Business. Well, actually, in Holland, they don't seem to do snow very well. That lovely Schipol Airport is huge, and a destination unto itself. My daughter found it to be a great source of entertainment as she and her beloved watched people stack up, like dogs in a show ring, at the end of the moving walkway. I had time, so I walked the 7.4 miles to my gate, but she tells me the moving sidewalk starts off slowly as you step on to it, then as it progresses, it kind of stretches out and just whizzes you right along, past us walking martyrs, until near the end, where it bunches up and slows right down again, heaping bewildered foreigners into a pile at the step off.
|This would be an ordinary day at Pearson|
While I was trekking to my gate, I noticed the few snowflakes that had been caressing the ground en route to the airport were now pounding down with fury, but, I thought, no matter, I have taken off from Toronto with less than stellar conditions, and at such a busy international airport, they would be ready for such petty disturbances as weather.
How wrong I was! We were loaded on to the 747, and BTW, when Toronto built its new terminals, why didn't they build a few double gates like Schipol, to accommodate the behemoth types of jets? Just wondering... Then we sat. And sat some more. After an hour or an hour and a half, the snow had let up. But the airport had closed. I looked out the window. There was snow, but compared to what we are used to in Toronto, it wasn't much. I thought they might just need the time to plough a runway or two, and we would be on our way. Out came nuts and juice. And the kid sitting behind me who continued to beat the back of my seat with his feet. Eventually we tried to leave for the de-icing. I noticed several times the plane seemed to be rocking back and forth, like an impatient concert goer shifting from foot to foot while waiting in line. Finally, we moved away from the gate, only to stop suddenly, and be told that the front landing gear had to be inspected. Why? Because just like we North Americans get caught up in the snow and spin our wheels, and then rock the car back and forth to get out, our close to 800,000 pound loaded aircraft had been stuck in the two inches of snow, spinning its wheels, and that little vehicle that pushes it out while attached to the front landing gear had been the source of that rocking with no one knocking. And possibly damaged the gears. Out came water and cookies. Meanwhile I amused myself with the continued drumming against the back of my seat. And again watching out the window while the dinky toy snow ploughs with soup spoons for shovels tried to round up the drifts. Finally, an all clear, but then for de-icing, like stepping up to the deli counter on the weekend. "Four!" You look at your ticket and see "68". In all, FIVE hours in the soup can with Ricky Ricardo behind me, before we took off. I had something planned that evening back home, I think. Didn't quite land at 1530 like the ticket said.
2. Whitney. A Golden voice silenced, but again here is another person who had a world of opportunity before her, and chose this slow suicide.Can't blame Bobby. She and Mikey are hand in hand up there, and guilty of orphaning their children. That for me is unforgivable. It's too bad she never felt the love in life that was poured out for her in her death. But then, you have to love yourself first. And maybe she never did.
|Unlike Ben and Courtney, these birds mate for life.|
3. Ben and Courtney. Really, have you ever seen two losers so suited for each other? There must have been a paper bag over his head when the Bachelor execs said "I know! Let's pick Ben!" I mean, is there anyone else in Bachelordom who could at the very least use a bowl and a sharp pair of scissors? He's a whine maker, er, wine maker. He won't be stomping on my grapes anytime soon. And Courtney? How she could ever look at herself in the mirror, well, I guess she couldn't because everyone of them would be cracked by the rush of wind as she stepped up to them. 'Til death do you part, and I'm sure it will be hotter than Puerto Rico where you guys are headed to after that.
|Try stuffing him alive.|
4. But Stuffing is For Turkeys. Well gobble, gobble. Woke up one morning in Holland with a little difficulty sitting down, which progressed into a huge difficulty sitting down, and no, this isn't Prep H material. So without going into all the gory details, one of my minor nightmares has come true, and since I lack the dexterity of Cirque du Soleil performers (although in a real pinch with a lot of mirrors, I can come close), I now have someone stuffing an area where the sun don't shine. There is no more dignity. The clinic I go to doesn't even supply you with a gown or a towel or even a fig leaf to cover your fruit with. Some nurses step out of the room while you get ready. Others hang in. Some open the rolling curtains just as you are shimmying off your drawers. Major accident at the 401/Hwy 10? That's because they also didn't close the blinds while I was getting ready. Quick! Jupiter has lost one of its moons! Film at eleven!
And that is my little world for now. Up soon - the Golden Girls will be rocking the Southern Caribbean with Princess. Improv entertainment provided by an as yet unknown member of Cirque du Soleil.
|It must have been moon glow....|