The drama that is called a canceled flight

It is now Tuesday around half past five in the afternoon while I am typing this, and Lilian and I have been at Schiphol for over nine hours. Yes, drama indeed. It all started off just fine, just a slightly panicky Lilian who was afraid she would arrive a bit late at Schiphol due to traffic (by the way, she was perfectly on time). The customs went smoothly and we also still Jessie Bloemendaal and Maartje Verhoef ran into who happened to have the same flight as us. We had enough time to grab our daily cup of coffee (I think I now have my own body weight in coffee) and then there turned out to be a delay. About an hour, nothing too annoying.

What do you do then? A little walk, a few shops in and then back towards the gate. Where no one was. And where nothing was indicated at all. Thank god for a friendly man who I think realized that Jut and Jul were mega confused and also a bit scared that we had somehow missed our flight. Eventually, it turned out that the entire flight was canceled. KLM, I love you, but the communication today (or yes, yesterday if you are reading this) did not go particularly smoothly, did it?

Anyway, we went to a transfer machine where we saw that the only options were to fly via Paris and hang around there for about ten hours. Well, I don't know how well you are familiar with Charles de Gaulle Airport, but from there you can't just hop into Paris and back. At least, I prefer not to do that there. Then we were referred to the transfer desk, but there was a line that was at least a few kilometers long (I kid you not). Thank god for our sales heroines Daniëlle and Annick, who could arrange a flight that would go that same day. Well, at eight o'clock in the evening, but okay. Rebooking was free and we had already booked an overnight stay in Milan, so it would be a waste of money if we didn't sleep there.

Now I really understand that there are people who think: just go back to Amsterdam and come back in the evening. True, that could have been done. But then Lilian and I walked past Rituals, and at Rituals you could get a manicure and pedicure and we thought we definitely deserved that because our flight was canceled. And well, then all those nails have to dry of course and there is also work to be done, so Schiphol became our flex place for a day. We walked around, like two lunatics with those crazy slippers through Schiphol because oh dear if our freshly painted toenails would get ruined.

Now I always say that it seems wonderful to work somewhere else for a day for inspiration, but guys, Schiphol on such a busy day where the word ‘delayed’ appears a bit too often when you look at the flight departures? I do not recommend it. Bad for your bank account. At least, it is if your name is Elke (or Eline, apparently they have a lot of trouble with my name at Starbucks), because when I have to wait I always do one thing a bit too much: eat.

So moral of the story: what am I going to take away from Milan Fashion Week? Extra kilos. Thank you canceled flight and all the pizzas and pastas that I plan to eat. Byeee.