I....am in Amsterdam, and not Paris at all.

Who saw that coming?

Anyway, the flight was okay. There were a lot of children on the flight. There was one behind me that rolled around and around and banged the back of my chair, and one in front of me that kept pushing the seat back.

There was a man next to me that we shall hereafter refer to as Mr. Poo.

I'm not sure what nationality Mr. Poo was. I suspect Dutch. He kind of had those facial features, and the book he was reading looked to be maybe Dutch. He didn't really seem to know what was going on around him and smelled like poo. He was nice enough, though, even if I woke up once to find him fiddling madly with the armrest between us, trying to re-affix the tv remote to it. (I finally just took it from him and did it. He had been trying to put it in backwards.)

The entertainment was fine. Big selection of movies. Not a huge selection of TV shows, but no episodes I'd seen before.

The food was airline food. The most memorable part was the salad made of apple chunks mixed with mayonaise. I ate it...but I probably shouldn't have.

The most unusual thing (in my opinion) was they just gave out liquor. When the stewardess came by to take our drink orders, I ordered a Coke, for lack of anything else jumping to mind. Mr. Poo just grunted: "Beer." and was promptly handed a wee can of Heineken. I think he drank four or five of those over the course of the flight. (I decided to forego alcohol mostly because he was always asleep and I was against the window and I have the tiniest bladder in the world.)

You know what the weidest thing about the Amsterdam airport is?

Everything is in English.

WHAT THE WHAT.

I was expecting...not as quite wide-spread English.

Shows what the hell *I* know.

Anyway. I need a nap and a beverage before my flight to Paris, so I think I'm going to go totter off.

See you in Paris, peeps.