Tue, 10 Feb 2004
In Boston
... Where it is, perversely, a little bit warmer than Edinburgh.
Memo to self: in future, do not get the 6am flight to
Schiphol when your departure for Boston doesn't board until
12:30pm; even the insane mad-shopper-magnet that is the Dutch
airport mall tends to lose its
attraction after three hours. (And I'm sure there was a later
connecting flight that could have gotten us there in time.) As
it is, I had the kind of day that starts when the alarm goes
at 3:30am (after two or three hours' disturbed sleep) and ends
at 11pm five time zones away (i.e. 4am in the zone you set out
from). Consequently, if this entry is rambling and a bit
incoherent, you'll know why. I'm one of those guys who can't
pull an overnight stretch -- I begin hallucinating after about
24 hours of continuous consciousness, and came dangerously
close last night.
Airport reading: If you like Scottish black humour and/or crime
fiction, you really really want to read Be
My Enemy by Christopher Brookmyre (not published in the
US, so nyaah). Ignore the carping Amazon reviews, just buy the
book: it's the best crime novel Iain Banks didn't write ...
Random observation: this time, the US immigration and customs
officials I interacted with were polite, friendly, and
generally helpful and efficient (utterly unlike their normal
selves). In contrast, the Dutch airport security officials
(who are normally polite, friendly, and generally helpful and
efficient) were scarily paranoid and suspicious. Three
security checks plus an interrogation before boarding a
North West DC-10 seems a little heavy, and I wasn't being
singled out for special treatment -- everyone was getting it.
When the normally laid-back Dutch start getting paranoid, it's
time to worry:
someone has the wind up them about trans-Atlantic travel, and
no mistake. Could this
be why?
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