Gadzooks!

AMS - IAH - Flight UA21

If I was anxious about the train trip to Delft, I should have been terrified at what lay ahead for today. Ignorance is indeed bliss!

My taxi driver picked me up a 7:45 sharp and headed for the Schiphol Airport. I was his first passenger with the company. Not a great confidence builder until he said he’d actually been born in Amsterdam and had been driving taxis for another company for three years.

The first thing we had to do was find the terminal I was departing from. Unlike every airport I’ve been through in the states, markings as to which airline departs from which terminal are skimpy to say the least. I was departing from gate D53 so that gave us a clue. When we arrived he hopped out and went inside with me, luggage, backpack, rollator, and Alpine sticks in tow. The lobby was mobbed, but he found the right line, wished me a good trip and disappeared in the crowd.

Alone again in a far and distant land! That should have been my first clue that this was going to be (let’s see--what’s that euphemism?) interesting!!

In line to the ticket agent to check my bags and get my boarding pass, I encountered a Policeman of some sort. With a totally expressionless face and voice we played a game of “Twenty Questions and Answers.” Apparently I passed because he stepped out of the way and I proceeded on.

I needed to get my VAT tax refund so I headed to the Global Blue tax refund desk. The line folded back on itself it was so long. Boy was I glad I had two hours before boarding time. A man in uniform reminded me I had to get a customs stamp before I could claim my refund. The customs inspectors were ‘that way’ beyond the green lights.

I arrived at the green lights just as the customs officer closed them and pointed everyone to the next row out of sight down the airport terminal somewhere. Fortunately there was a woman in a wheelchair that he was letting through and I piggybacked on their good luck. Pushed by an agent the woman and her husband soon left me tagging far behind.

Getting to the customs line I got ‘preferred’ treatment because I was a ‘special’ United passenger since I was flying Business Class. That meant I was in a line with only about 20 other people. A grumpy, rude and obnoxious woman was directing everyone to take everything in their possession and put it in separate bins. Shoes in one, computers (each separately if you had an iPad) in one, bags each in one and they launched them down the roller belt out of sight. At the far end, a customs agent was taking each bag and sending it through a scanner. Sometimes people had to unpack to show a suspicious item (rarely dangerous it turned out) so there was a separate “re-packing area. My bags, backpack and other trays passed but my computer and pocket items were still in bins back on the roller belt. She just kept taking bags from one side of a dividing screen and ignoring the ones on my side. Finally, after about five or ten minutes or so, I said, “Mam, if you’ll inspect my other bins I get out of everyone’s way.” She said, with some sort of merciless humor, “Those have already been screened. You could have picked them up and been at your plane by now,” Thanks, Lady. Here’s your sign (to quote a famous comedian.)

First hurdle completed. Now all I had to do was get through Immegration and customs. I didn’t count them, but there must have a dozen stations, each with lines numbering in the dozens at least. There was a “preferred” line but it had about 10 or 15 people in wheel chairs and didn’t appear to be moving. Apparently sensing my quandary and increasing frustration, an airport employee unsnapped several of the line stanchion belts and directed me though a much shorter line. Finally after showing my passport for about the dozenth time, I got the coveted customs stamp that would allow me to reclaim my VAT tax refund.

Fortunately I had read a blog the night before that said there was a Global Blue office in the lobby. I finally found it one level down and, sure enough, I was the only person in line. He took my credit card (not the one I’d made purchases on) and said I would immediately get my refund deposited to my account. It’s two days later and I still do see it on my credit card. I have a receipt, so...fortunately all the blogs say it takes three or four days to show up.

An hour left to get to my plane. Looking down the long corridor I could see signs leading to...you guessed it...Gates A, B, C, and D. I set out walking. And walking. And walking. And walking!! Past the corridors leading off to Gates A, B, and C I finally found the one leading to the D gates -- 1 to 87.

At least the computer had screwed up this time and I was not leaving from Gate 87, just 53.

So I started walking again. And walking. And walking. And walking. Finally I reached civilization again At Gate 1. Only 52 more to go. I was passed by dozens of golf carts labeled “Assistance.” After flagging some down and being told the same thing I finally believed them. I had to have an assignment from United before I could use one. Even though there were four parked together unused, “They were assigned to other passengers.”

How do I get an assignment. Simple. Got to the United Customer Desk at Gate C-1 and they would get me one. So I continued walking. And walking. And walking. And walking!! They had some of the moving sidewalks, but after an attempt at using one almost ended in disaster, I passed them by. And kept...well, by now you get the picture.

I arrived at Gate D-53 at 10:15, just as they opened for boarding. Let’s see. I got to the Airport at 8:15 and it’s now 10:15. Not bad timing for a gimp!

Fortunately the flight was uneventful. About the only thing that was.

Arriving in Houston I let everyone deplane so I wouldn’t be in the way since I didn’t have a connecting flight. They brought the rollator up from the belly of the plane and once again I set out...walking.

No sweat, Right? We’d docked at D-1. Short walk through Customs pick up the bags, catch the shuttle and I’d be home again.

Wrong. Apparently Houston and Amsterdam are in some sort of competition about who’s biggest. Take all the “and walking’s” at Amsterdam and insert them here.

Finally, I reached the Global Pass site and something really worked for me. Sorta. There had been signs all along the corridor (remember walking?) proclaiming “Skip the lines. Get the Mobile Pass.” Thanks to the Barsalou’s I had the app. But when I got there, nothing said anything about how to “skip the lines.” Just signs that separated you into Global Entry or ‘the rest of the cattle.’ So I went through Global Entry.

Now the dreaded Customs inspection. I was over the $800 tax free limit by my accounting, so I was probably going to have to give the U.S. some of the taxes I’d reclaimed from the E.U. With only two couples in front of me my turn came quickly. A Customs officer who was at least three inches taller than I was motioned me over to himself instead of going to the officers at the desk.

Yrut yro! Good news or bad???

He quietly looked at my stamped form and asked, “What did you buy.” My answer apparently satisfied him and he quietly said, “Have a good day.”

!!! That was Customs???

So I began...yes, take all the ‘walking’s’ from above and insert them here. After negotiating a few elevators I spotted a couple who had been at the gate getting a wheelchair as I left the plane. So I dropped in behind them and we finally found our luggage...sitting falournly between conveyors. With the help of the baggage agent I loaded everything on a cart.

I really should have taken a picture, but I was too tired. Can you look like the Clampetts without a Model A truck?

I quick ride to the Hilton Garden Inn, and the Remarkable Rhine Adventure drew to a close.

There aren’t many any pictures from today but if you'd like to look, click here

And I may or may not get around to a final spiritual reflections.

Thanks for hanging in with me thru The Adventure. Truly, I may have been solo, but thanks to you, I’ve never been alone.

Blessings and Peace!