| RICK'S
BIG TRIP page 32
At noon on Saturday, all over Europe, there was a moment of silence. A full three minutes of stillness, in which all traffic stopped, everyone stood still. Even here, at the Dam -- in the middle of Amsterdam -- no one made a sound. A singular moment, the like of which I never expect to see again. |
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| So there I was in Amsterdam, getting used to the world's new realities. A good time to take a ride on the tour boat. A fella came down the aisle, sold me a Heineken and a chocolate bar. I spent an hour listening to the (now pre-recorded) tour of the old Dutch canals. Still a tourist. |  |
| And on Saturday, I flew home, just four days after the disaster. Here, in the airport lounge, I was reminded of the work that awaited me back home. A mannequin, his broken arm dangling from a shirt sleeve laid his broken dummy finger stubs on this piano, as it played, automatically, the theme from The Flintstones. A truly disgusting image. |  |
| Then, once again, I was up above the Arctic Circle. I thought my plane would be crammed with all the people who had booked to fly throughout the week...but the jumbo jet was only about one third full. I guess they's lost interest. Oh well -- plenty of space to spread out -- and lots of pampering from the flight attendants! |  |
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