Missing planes aren’t fun. At all. Especially after dead sprinting to your gate and working up a strong sweat in the process. Feeling my stomach sink as I saw the plane roll away from the dock did not help the situation either. I had never missed a plane before and I still held the belief that you were  SOL if the unfortunate event came to pass. Well luckily I am a naive 20 year old because I was quickly enlightened about the magical place in the airport simply but eloquently called “Transfers”.

You may be asking yourself, “Hey your a competent and smart kid, how did you miss your flight?” And to that question I would first respond, “Thank you, I think that too.” And then I would go on to explain that my flight was slightly late getting into Amsterdam leaving me with a paltry 45 minutes till my next flight left. It would have been more ample time if you did not have to go through security again in Amsterdam, but alas you did along with another 1000 people rushing to their  respective flights. It got fairly cut throat. I may have cut an old chinese lady. Stop thinking in literals.

While at the Transfers I was told by the individual assisting me that I could not get another flight until 1:10pm when it was 7:00am at the time. Alternatively, I could take a train to Brussels which would leave at 8:30am and would get me in by 9:40. I quickly took the latter option. He handed me my presumed ticket and where to pick up my luggage and I was back on my way. Or so I thought.

After getting a carmel machiato, which may I add was the only reason I didn’t die of exhaustion, and relaxing, 8:30 was fast approaching. I entered the rail station as happy as a kid entering a candy store because the whole thing was almost over. When I walked to the ticket taker she quickly informed me that I did not have a ticket. F THAT NOISE. WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY??? She then also quickly informed me I must go up and exchange it for another and that there was another train to Brussels in a half hour. I hurry up to exchange my ticket at the ticket office but am quickly halted by an egregious line. With 10 minutes until the train leaves I finally reach the window. After asking for my passport he informs me I am not any list for the train and he cannot not help me. I am told I must go speak to the KLM people. WTF?? I am , sometimes to a fault,  a patient person but at this point in my travel day I am at my breaking point. I’ve had it with everything and just want to be at the destination I should have been at an hour and a half ago.

After hiking across the airport to KLM they finally got me all set up with an official train ticket to Brussels I just had to wait for another hour and a half until 10:30 before it left. The layover did allow me to gain my usual composure which I desperately needed. And it got better after I entered the train to find I had first class with wifi. Viewing the strikingly beautiful countryside of the Netherlands and Belgium also help to rectify the situation. All in all I made it safely to Brussels and if when you really look at it thats all that really matters.

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