From my hotel, I walked to the food court at Schiphol Airport, in an effort to save money for dinner on that Friday evening, December 13th, after my client meetings were through. I had afternoon flights to London, then home to Chicago the next day. So walking there helped me make sure I knew how to get to the airport on foot.
There was muted Christmas spirit in Amsterdam. There were certainly signs and symbols of the holiday, but they were all modest, I thought, and that suited me just fine.
I was able to relax and work out in the evening, and sleep in and get some work done in the morning. I don't know what's come over me, but years ago I was the epitome of push-the-envelope, last-minute traveler. On this European tour, I gave myself ample time to catch my flights. So it was relaxing, by and large.
The sun poured in waves, as we waited at the gate for our Amsterdam-London flight. Outside our plane sat, like a mechanical horse, strapped and ready for a rider to mount.
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