I had meant to be blogging in the Amsterdam airport right now, about my last sights of Scotland, how it was all licorice and icing in the dusk of night, and cottages little gingerbread houses across the fields, but instead I am back in the comfort of my room. My flight was cancelled, and after standing for three hours in the queue (with whom I stood other passengers of our nonexistent flight, one of whom was convinced I was not American but Canadian), was told that my entire flight had been rescheduled. So I am once again at home and will be leaving, alas in four hours. I am eternally grateful to my landlord, Neil, who will be driving me back to the airport, and to Jesse and Casey who took it in stride when I called saying, “Just to let someone know, my flight has been cancelled. More details to follow” (Oh, if only I were as eloquent in speech as I am in hindsight). All in all, this evening was one of missed connections, including late buses and confused bus drivers, as well as the unfortunate missing flight from Amsterdam. I rode, sat, and tromped through the snow, and only the trains were running on the schedule.
All this to say, gentle readers, I shall be attempting to fly to the States again in just 7 hours. Let us hope the travel gods are more inclined to let me pass this time. (There is more snow to come! Be kind, ye gods.) During tonight’s travails I read Agamemnon by Aeschylus; he sacrificed his daughter to win the winds of Thrace, but I hope that for me it will not come to that (especially when I have no progeny to offer forth).
Good night, good night.