I love this week’s topic! It came from the fabulous Brenda Margriet. She said, It’s great to have good days, where everything goes exactly the way we planned. But the bad days make for the best stories. Tell us a real life story about something that went horribly awry, but now makes you laugh.

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Did you hop over from Jenna Da Sie’s blog? No? Well just keep on hopping and you’ll find her at the end. For now, let me tell you about one of the most trying days of my life. Not the worst day, but certainly one that I have to laugh at now, because it was so ridiculous. It’s kind of a long story, so hang in there.

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Once upon a time…

Back in 2002 my first husband died unexpectedly. That was not the day we are going to talk about, but because of his death, I felt the need to run away from home. So in June on 2003 I took a transfer to my company’s headquarters in The Netherlands. I had a few months to prepare. Having traveled there many times for work, I thought I was in control. But on those trips, I lived in hotels and only really went from the office to work and some touristy stuff. Little did I know, how different it would be to travel to live.

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I arrived in Amsterdam airport at 6:00 am local time. But let me set the scene…

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My parents, separated but not divorced for over 30 years at the time, drove me to the airport. The argued the entire way. My father was a erratic driver and even I was a bit terrified. Also in the car was my cat (critter) a black and white temperamental beast who hated to travel. Still, I couldn’t leave her behind for my 6+ month assignment. I had packed the way any woman leaving home for 6 months would. So, the car was full with my new luggage stacked to the hilt.

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The airport check in went smooth and I boarded the plain with my cat who was to be put under the seat in front of me for the 7+ hour flight. By this time poor critter was beside herself and just sat quietly in the soft sided case. I had an isle seat in the center of the plain. On these flights you leave late in the evening and fly through the night, so most people sleep. They dim the cabin once the meal is cleared away and it’s quiet.

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I checked on Critter and felt a bit sorry for her, so I opened the top of the bag enough for her to poke her nose out. Dozing off for an hour, I thought, I’ve done it. With still several hours until our arrival in Amsterdam, I checked on Critter. The bag was empty. Do I call for the attendant? Do I start looking under peoples’ seats? What the F*** do I do? Remember that Critter was black and white. Well, she was mostly black, so I it took me a good 90 seconds to notice she was huddled and shaking right next to the carry bag. That minute and a half, was a lifetime.

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Deep breath… I returned the terrified animal to her bag and zipped it tight. Heart racing, I tried to calm myself. And amazingly, none of my fellow passengers noticed a thing.

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We arrived in Amsterdam at 6:00 am. Terrified I’d have trouble getting through customs, I put on a confident face and walked right though cat, excessive luggage and all.

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Okay, now to pick up my car. It’s really early, and only the Avis counter is open. My company always booked with them, so I go over and explain who I am and that my company has rented me a long term car.

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“I’m sorry, madam, I have no car in your name or your company’s name.”

“What?” I’m holding in my panic. I still have a two hour drive across The Netherlands before I can relax in the apartment a friend and colleague had found for me.

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There’s little I can do. My office is not open yet and neither are most of these rental companies. I take seat near the car rental area and wait. As each one opens, I inquire and am told the same thing. No car has been reserved. At 8:00 the woman from Hertz finally opens her desk. I’m sure she will have nothing and am told the same thing. There is no car rented for me or under the name of my company. But it’s 8:00 so I can call my office in the Netherlands and find out what the hell is going on.

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So, in 2003 our cell phones in the US did not work overseas. I had a little flip phone but it was useless. And since I had not gone to work yet, I did not have my company cell phone. So I go to the pay phones. If you’ve ever used a payphone in Europe, you will know that most of them require special phone cards, which of course I don’t have. But this is an airport, and I do find a phone that takes a credit card. I still can’t figure out how to make the damn thing work since the recorded message is in Dutch, which I don’t speak yet. It’s still quite early, but I find a friendly soul and ask them to help me with the phone. (Most Dutch people speak English, which is very helpful.)

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I finally get though to my office and the woman assures me that a reservation has been made. It was actually with Alamo who I had inquired with an hour earlier. Evidently, my accent was too foreign and they didn’t understand me. Um… You work in an Airport. Almost everyone has an accent of one kind or another. Okay, I will not freak out….. I will not freak out….. I will stay calm.

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I have to trek across four lanes of airport traffic and go down into the garage to pick up my car. This is normal but I had never done it with so much luggage before. The car is an extremely small Mercedes. To fit my luggage, I have to cram it in the back seat and the trunk and the correct configuration takes me about 40 minutes to achieve. Remember Critter is with me for all of this. No food, and no litter. I did give her water, but she was not too interested in it. She rides in the front seat because there is no other inch of space in the car to fit her. But okay, we’re in and we’re heading north east to Groningen where I will have a lovely apartment.

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The rental agent is to meet me at the house at 11:00. I am sure I will be late, but by some miracle, I arrive right on

time. I even find the apartment. But NO AGENT. I leave my luggage in the car, but it’s warm so I take the cat and set off to find a payphone. There’s one a block away, but of course, I need one of those phone cards. I wait by my car for a half an hour before starting off into the neighborhood to find some help. Mind you, this is mostly residential and I’ve never been in the area before.

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A few blocks away I find a bike shop and go in. I explain in rapid fire NY/NJ speak, my entire situation. Wide-eyed he hands me his phone. I dial and a woman picks up. I try to explain who I am and what I need, but she doesn’t quite understand. Plus she’s giving me directions to their office and I’m not following. Near tears, I hand the phone to the bike shop man. I must have looked completely panicked because he calmly explained to the woman and wrote down the address for me.

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Once he had explained the directions, I headed out. ( I would later learn that Dutch people are terrible at giving directions. Now I am the worst at following them. I admit to being directionally challenged, but I have checked with other people and it isn’t just me. I love the Dutch and have many friends there. It’s just a cultural thing.) However, by some miracle, I find Ooster (the name of the street.) I part the car. Taking the cat and my purse, I set out to find the number. I walk up and down the road searching and the number does not exist. My wits are frayed. I haven’t slept in more than 24 hours except for the short nap on the plane. I’m toast.

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The next door is a toy shop and there is a man standing near the window looking at toys. I go in. “Do you speak English” (In the Netherlands, the answer is almost always yes, but I think it’s still polite to ask)

“Of course.” he says.

I explain my situation. I tell him far more than he needs to know. In probably the most insane, ready-to-crack voice, I tell him that I need to find the address and I hand him the paper from the bike shop with the address.

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Without a word, he nods and leads me out of the shop. We walk down the street and after about 5 blocks, he points to where the street name changes from Oosterweg to Oosterstraat. A few blocks later, he stops at a door with the correct number on it and hands me the paper with the address. I thank him, but he just smiles and walks away. (BTW… in Dutch weg=road and straat=steet. I would learn this later.)

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I walk I to the real estate office and a woman is sitting behind an ultramodern, U-shaped, white desk. She asks me something in Dutch.

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I put the cat carrier down near a chair and sit. Looking at the woman, I say, “I’m going to need a moment.” Then I burst into hysterical tears. I cried for at least twenty minutes. That poor woman had no idea what to do. She brought me a box of tissues and a glass of water and on and on I cried. Maybe it was because, it was over. Maybe I was just too tired. Maybe I thought I’d made a huge mistake running to Europe. Maybe I’d lost my husband and best friend only six months earlier and I had a million more tears left to cry. Whatever it was, the flood gates had opened and this poor woman was present for it. She had no idea who I was but she was very kind.

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Finally, I bring myself under control and take a deep breath. I tell her my name and she tells the agent in the next office I am there. He comes out, introduces himself and promptly tells me that we can drive over to the flat (apartment) now. So, back in the car I go, with Critter and a bad attitude. Once we get to the flat, I sign the papers and thank him just so I can get him out of my sight, get my cat in a litter box and go to sleep until it’s time to go to work on Monday.

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That’s it. All was well after that. I had many adventures in The Netherlands and traveling around Europe. I enjoyed my time there and with the exception of that first day, it was a good decision. Of course, when I got home, I still had to deal with my loss, but that’s another story. I did learn a lot and my advice in every situation is, don’t panic and ask for help. Once you’re safe and in the real estate agents office, you can totally freak out, but until then, hold it together.  🙂

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