I woke up around 6am and looked out my window. The fog was so dense, I couldn't even see the other side of the street. My colleagues had warned me that Schiphol airport had only a single runway open on Friday, due to the fog, and that today might be more of the same. It had also snowed the night before, so the roads were slick and sloppy to boot.

After discovering that no breakfast was provided on the weekends, I checked out of my hotel in Harmelen and hit the road for the airport. The drive was slow, and the roads were treacherous. After stopping to gas up my car, I arrived at Schiphol around 8am. Usually, the Dutch rental agencies go over your vehicle with a microscope, looking for any type of damage that they can charge to your account (a minor scratch on my last trip cost me 1,000 Euros!), so I was surprised when the guy at the counter signed me off with no problems found.

I grabbed some coffee and a croissant, then got in line to check in. The departure area was packed with people trying to get home after having their flights cancelled or delayed. However, the big departure board still showed that my flight was on schedule. After waiting for almost an hour, I then had to proceed immediately to the passport/security line which took yet another half-hour to clear.

Finally, I made it into the terminal and went to work dumping my hard-earned Euros on Stroopwafelln, Drop, and chocolate truffles. I also bought a box of Mozartkugeln simply because I was amused at the thought of eating Mozart's balls. When I was done, I couldn't cram a single thing more into my carryons.

By this time I was ready for lunch, so I proceeded to the only restaurant in Schiphol that serves (in my opinion) edible food with a pirate-ship motif to boot: Restaurant in de Bonte Koe. It was closed, of course. Every other half-way decent restaurant was closed as well, so I wound up eating a turkey sandwich at a stand-up bar. Sigh.

After switching our gate 3 times, Northworst finally settled on one, and we boarded. By this time, the fog had lifted somewhat, so our departure was only delayed by another hour as we waited for transfer passengers to straggle aboard from other delayed flights. By some miracle, the seat next to me remained open; I was able to stretch out a little and sleep for several hours after takeoff.

When I woke up, we were flying over Northern Canada. The view out of my window was an incredibly bleak landscape of rocks, snow, and an endless ice field stretching out across Hudson Bay. You have to wonder what would happen if an airplane was forced to make an emergency landing out here in the middle of nowhere. I immediately began sizing up my fellow passengers for their nutritional potential.

I tried falling asleep again, but the idiot behind me kept putting his incredibly stinky feet up on my armrest, and the woman next to him would sit up from time to time and rhythmically pound her head against the back of the seat next to me. I finally had to stand up, turn around, and ask them both to knock it off. They complied.

I also have to say that most European airline passengers appear to have serious problems complying with instructions. During boarding, they completely ignore the calls to board by row number, and simply storm the plane in a giant mob. Once in flight, they stand up, walk around, and open the overhead compartments during periods of heavy turbulence when the Fasten Seatbelts sign is on. I've also been on flights where they will literally climb over my seat in order to reach the aisle, without so much as a "pardon me". A planeload of drunks on their way to Vegas would be more polite.

We finally landed in Minneapolis around 4pm. Since I had no checked luggage, I breezed through customs and headed for the shuttle bus counter. Unfortunately, I'd missed the previous shuttle by only 5 minutes and had to wait an hour and 40 minutes for the next one. I tried to doze again, but an old geezer sat down next to me and decided that a sleeping man was an ideal candidate to start up a conversation with, and then some lady sat on the other side of me and apparently decided that I wouldn't be bothered at all by her EXTREMEMLY LOUD CELLPHONE CONVERSATION. Jesus H. Christ people, didn't your parents teach you any manners at all?

Anyway, I finally got home around 7:30pm after a grand total of almost 20 hours spent traveling between the hotel and my front door.

In 3 weeks, I get to do this all again and embark on an even longer trip to Sydney, Australia. Joy.