Netherlands

Traveling is getting to be a chore. I traveled from Winona to Minneapolis to Dublin with a final destination of Amsterdam (or, as the pilot calls it, The Amsterdam). The older I get the more difficult it is to lift my luggage into the overhead bin. The older I get the more my legs swell. The older I get the more uncomfortable compressions socks feel. The older I get the less comfortable I feel with pressurized air filling my intestines.  A gate agent in Dublin told us our gate was 305. We waited at 305 from 8 in the morning until 1. Our actual gate was 407 so we missed our connection. We had to go through customs to buy another ticket. We told the customs man what happened. He suggested we buy the tickets and then buy some lager. We took his advice and bought a half pint of lager and a glass of wine. As I waited for the bartender to fill my order I told the young guy next to me that this was my first time in an Irish pub. He told me I was definitely not in an Irish pub. I was in an airport pub in Ireland but not an Irish pub. Whatever buddy, I an considering this an Irish pub. Then we waited patiently at our gate until they moved it to another gate. We got on our plane and landed at Schiphol Airport. We took the train to the Centraal Station where we had planned to walk with our luggage a thirty minute trip to our houseboat. But since it was dark and raining we decided to take a cab to our houseboat. Our hostess was very gracious and we were happy to be in the Netherlands at last.