Seven Hours in Amsterdam

I couldn't help laughing every time the pilot made an announcement. He provided a detailed route for us -- “We’ll be going tru Philadelphia and New York up ta Nova Scotia, all Nordern da whole way" -- and told us that, ‘of course,” he’d “prefer that we keep our seatbelts fastened during flight.” When, having slept through dinner, I went on a late-night scavenging expedition, the flight attendant offered orange juice and chocolate, provoking a second round of giggles. His accent was even stronger than the pilot's: “That’s what de’re dere for.”

For some reason the movie selections were Flushed Away, an animated movie with Kate Winslet and Hugh Jackman as creatures flushed into a septic system, and A Good Year, with Russell Crowe. Add to that the John Mayer muzak during deplaning and you have a pretty amusing trans-oceanic experience.

Less funny was the too sociable seat mate who kept wanting to stare at, assist with, and otherwise discuss my sudoku puzzle. I kept hoping that turning away and shielding the page would be a polite hint that I didn't want to chat. Unfortunately she took it as an invitation to ask more questions about the puzzles. I ultimately gave up and put my scarf over my head.

When we finally deplaned, my first sensory input from the Netherlands was the smell of cigarette smoke and, ironically, a glaring "No Smoking" sign in two languages.

It's 8:25 am here, and the flight to Abuja doesn't leave until 2:10 pm. Trying to stay awake. At least this is the same time zone as Nigeria.

The announcements in the airport are cracking me up. When passengers are late, over the PA system a voice announces the passengers' names and politely but firmly says, "you are delaying flight. Please proceed to gate or we will offload your luggage."