Part 1: Flying to Italy
Airbus A330–300. SEA → AMS → FLR.
There were lots of details. Every time change, the short layovers, every mode of transportation, every last bit information I could find I put into a schedule document for our trip.
Our destination: Florence, Italy. How does one get there from Seattle? A 45 minute stop in Amsterdam to change planes. One quick stop and then a short hop to Amerigo Vespuci Airport, and a 7 p.m. dinner reservation at a Michelin starred restaurant. The Italy Trip was going to start off strong.
Seattle to Amsterdam takes you on a large Airbus plane on Delta. Taking off in Seattle means you can also get priority boarding if you sign up for “12 Status” which is a real thing, and absolutely no one else at the airport will use.
On the plane, we had some “meals” of “food”:
And of course watched the finest in available cinema:
It was a pretty good long flight, all things considered. After 9 or so hours, out the window we spotted shipping vessels, took a big turn and headed in for our final approach.
Then we turned again.
And again.
Then the captain came on and announced that “you may have noticed we’re in a bit of a holding pattern” and thusly we went around a couple times waiting for the sunshine and fog to quit being problematic at AMS. Shouldn’t be more than 20 or 30 more minutes.
“Worst case scenario we divert to Brussels, gas up the plane, and then fly into Amsterdam in a little bit.”
The loop-de-loops ate up about 40 minutes of the 45 minute layover. We finally landed at AMS, and while getting off the plane the attendants announced “If you are connecting to Florence, you’re not going to make it.”
Well, crap.
So we got off the plane, were told we had to get to the “Transfer Desk” to get on a new flight, and then stumbled into one giant passport control line (and got through with a little playing dumb) and then found line for the transfer desk:
Well, crap.
As it would turn out, there were self-serve Transfer Kiosks throughout the airport, including right next to this queue. The kiosk was confusing, since the best option we had was to get on a flight to Paris, then to Florence that left approximately four minutes from when we got to the kiosk, but it wouldn’t let us pick that one.
Biting the Dutch bullet, we were able (in about three minutes on the kiosk) to book a direct to Florence flight, but at 8:35 p.m., about 10 hours later.
So we did what any sleep-deprived, exhausted traveler does in that situation: put your carry-on in a luggage locker, hope your credit cards work in a country you weren’t supposed to visit, and punch your train ticket into the city.
Part 2: Amsterdam.
