Lara St. John - Why Not To Take KLM

Why not to take KLM

or An essay on preposterous travel occurrences

by Lara St John

After, in my one day running around Berlin, almost getting run over by a tram and walking inadvertently on to a moving forklift between the Philharmonie and the Potsdamer Platz, as well as annoying at least 30 people in the Berliner Dom, I ended my sojourn chez Louis [Lortie] and his lovely house and family at 5 AM the next day to catch a plane from Dresden.

Upon arrival in Dresden, I then realized, as soon as I got in the cab, that I had no idea what Jan's address was, and my suitcase and Strad were still sitting at his house, although he and Rong were, of course, in Berlin (I somehow forgot to ask anyone). Augmenting the cab driver's curses with my own self directed complaints pertaining to the large empty space in my head, I ran back into the station to find that Jan was indeed in the phone book (the only stroke of luck that day).


	"I figured that it was some sort of mistake, seeing as he doubtless meant to tap me on the shoulder and somehow missed, and hit a bit lower."

Somehow things managed to go pretty smoothly then on in, until somewhere in the air between Dresden and Amsterdam, there was a huge commotion a few seats behind me. Our sort of scary German pilot finally announced what was going on in English: "Zere hass been a mann smoking in ze toilet room. Zis is vorbidden and you must all wait for the police in Amsterdam to remove him from ze plane." Well, myself and the basketball team around me were somewhat alarmed, seeing as everyone had rather tight connections and Ski Pole airport is well known to be about the size of Luxembourg.

After waiting 45 minutes for this poor man to be forcibly removed, we were finally let off the plane, and everyone started to run like mad in different directions, myself perhaps the fastest, knowing that there were no more seats to Toronto until September 14th. Naturally I had to go from terminal A to F, and so four miles later I arrived at the gate just as it was closing. Again, I thought that was a bit of good luck to counteract the bad...

Plopping down in my aisle seat, I felt virtuous and accomplished, having just probably broken some sort of airport groundspeed record. Having had about two hours sleep up to this point, I decided this would be a perfect nap opportunity, and dropped off to sleep, after saying hello to the elderly Dutch speaking man on my left.

About half an hour after takeoff, I was awakened rather unusually by this same elderly gentleman needing to go to the bathroom. I figured that it was some sort of mistake, seeing as he doubtless meant to tap me on the shoulder and somehow missed, and hit a bit lower. I let him out, and when he came back I had somehow managed to sleep again, and he woke me up by putting his whole hand on my face. At this point I was thinking there was something rather strange about him, and tried to stay awake, with no success, and the very same thing happened a half hour later. This time it really woke me up, and I determined to stay awake at least till he got back. This accomplished, I then noticed, after he was seated again, that he was constantly muttering to himself in Dutch. After a few minutes of this, he then grabbed me in a very unmistakable way, at which point I set off to find a flight attendant.


"I already had my own ideas about this old man, and was glad to see I was then only a few rows behind, and could watch what would entail..."

I asked very politely if I could switch seats, to which he replied there were none, that the plane was completely full. I told him I had to switch seats, and he replied that was impossible. The conversation then went something like this: ME "Well sir I realize that this plane comes from Amsterdam, but I am a Canadian, and I find it unacceptable that I am seated next to some guy who is grabbing me in weird places." HIM "Well, actually, that is odd for us as well miss, but I don't have any other seat. I can't help you." ME "Well I am NOT going to sit, for the next 7 hours, next to some crazy old Dutch guy who is grabbing me in the boobs!! You will simply have to do something!" HIM "(sigh) All right, stay here a second..."

He then went to ask some rather large strapping Dutch guy if he would switch seats with me. I already had my own ideas about this old man, and was glad to see I was then only a few rows behind, and could watch what would entail...

Sure enough, after about half an hour, this big Dutch guy gets up, calls over the steward, and talks rather loudly in Dutch to him, all the while shaking his head and gesticulating towards his family jewels. Presumably he was saying "I am NOT going to sit next to some old guy who is grabbing me in the balls!! Do something!" Meanwhile I am sitting about three rows safely back, giggling my head off.

Turns out, as I correctly surmised, that this old guy had Tourette syndrome (for those who don't know, this is a well documented disease which makes people do and say completely inappropriate things at the wrong time). It seemed he had suffered a relapse and was on his way to Toronto for some new medical treatment. The amazing thing is that, in a full jumbo jet, it would be me out of 600 people who gets stuck sitting next to the guy with Tourette. I am not sure what they did with him because I conked out for a while, and when I woke up he was gone somewhere.

The plane finally landed in Toronto about 2 hours late because of circling, and the luggage carousel wasn't working. At this point I decided to find out why someone wasn't trying to do something about this, and got sent from airport authorities to KLM authorities and back again, at which point my very great patience began to finally wear a bit thin. Of course, when the carousel actually began working, I waited another hour, and my suitcase didn't come.

I was then told to go stand in line with the other 100 people whose luggage didn't make it. By now I had been 14 hours with no cigarette and I decided they could all go to hell. I sat on the luggage carousel and lit up - in full view of everyone. I was pleased to see that when I did so, about 20 other people started smoking as well. Naturally the security came over, asked who started it, and someone pointed to me, who was still sitting there enjoying myself. He asked me to come with him, that I was being arrested, at which juncture I decided it was time to unload a few of my day's problems onto him at a very high and shrill decibel level.

Somehow I never got arrested. In fact, I got sent to the front of the missing suitcase line because they had no interest in having a hysterical person in there any longer than they had to. When I finally got to the outside, my mother took one look at my face, packed me into the car and drove me to the nearest bar.

THE END

Oh, and I did get the suitcase - just before shooting my video. So I look a little wrinkled in it.