Airport blues...
I hate airports. The huge space, the suffocating recycled air, the constant announcements for missing passengers and children. The open plan bars and restaurants, the oppressive fluorescent lights and the doddering passengers wandering aimlessly trying to kill time. Hanging around with nothing to do. Bored to death. But most of all I hate airports because they have airplanes here. And I hate airplanes. Or to be more exact I hate flying. Or to be more exact still I hate the idea of crashing. Dropping fast. Falling. Turbulence. Oh dear, I have sweaty palms again just thinking about it.
So here I am in Amsterdam airport waiting for my flight home. It's been a fun couple of days. Got lots of work done. Got lots of boys done. I even found time to meet some friends for dinner which was great too. So why am I feeling a bit out of sorts? Sure, the nerves are a bit on edge about flying. But it's not just that. Nor is it the slight drag of fighting off the beginnings of a sniffly cold. Though God knows I don't need another one of those. No, it's because everytime I come to Amsterdam I don't want to leave. I want to stay here. I want to live here. I love it. The relaxed atmosphere. The relaxed people. The impossibly tall Dutch boys. The quaint canals. The nightlife. The saunas. The warm welcome that the city extends to me everytime I step off the train at Centraal Station. Sitting here now I find myself planning my next trip back already. Amsterdam is my second favourite city.
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