Memoir / Travel
Escaping From an Airport
I hope I’m not on a “list” somewhere
It’s almost midnight. My husband and I are exhausted and furious, furiously exhausted, and trapped at an airport.
But rewind.
Our weekend trip to Amsterdam for a friend’s wedding was lovely. Expensive for so short a trip (that didn’t include much sightseeing), but it was nice to catch up with our friend and be there for a relaxed wedding in the country.
Rhys impressed everyone with his formal attire, the kilt he’d worn to our own wedding back in January. The weather on Saturday was gorgeous for April (if a bit windy), and the tiny chapel on the outskirts of A’dam was perfect for an intimate ceremony.
The next day we were invited to join the newlyweds and their two toddlers for a morning at the zoo before we had to catch a bus to Brussels, the first leg of a complicated return trip. Although we had a lovely morning and made it to the station on time, the day was about to sour.
The plan was to take a FlixBus to Brussels on Sunday afternoon, then catch an airport shuttle to Charleroi, where we’d…
