Suburban Bliss:: Birth Control Via The Written Word

How long will this response work?

Logan went to see a concert tonight.

I have a maddening crush on Ben Folds and guess who Logan went to see tonight? Yes. That's it.

I started to say, "Gah...this isn't fair...."

But Logan stopped me.

Ahem.

Will I never be allowed to whine again? I want to blame Amsterdam for this but maybe I'll just keep blaming Canada. Thanks a lot Canada.

On the other hand, almost all of Ben Folds' music makes me sob, like park-in-the-driveway-&-finish-the-song-while-sobbing, sobbing. If anyone remembers my crying face, that wouldn't serve anyone's best interest.

Canada, oh, Canada.

Last month, God proved he loves me and I went to Antsterdam. (Those are related items.)

Before I could go to Hamsterdam I had to stop in Canada.

I have a long history of anthromorphizing Canada. It's not just me it's my sister too. She's the one who said during the big black out of 2003, when some fireworks went off in a northernly direction: "Oh God, they blew up Canada. Oh our gentle brother to the north....no, not Canada!!!!!"

This outburst may have involved herbs, or maybe not, I'm not sure. All I know is it wasn't the first time I spoke to Canada as if it was an entity and not just a country full of many specific people. I don't just pick on Canada either, I've also admonished Ohio for throwing all those beer bottles into Lake Eerie and making a mess for Canada to pick up.

I like to think of Canada as a little brother I give a wedgie to every once in a while.

On my way to AntsAreInTheJam, bad things happened to me in Toronto. At Pearson specifically.

I may have known Canada was not on my side when I boarded a very small plane on the actual tarmack in Detroit, this just didn't seem safe. But was that Canada's fault? Maybe Canada wanted me to board the plane from a normal tunnel from the exit in the airport and Canada just couldn't work that out. I was willing to give Canada the benefit of the doubt.

The flight was fine but there were 30 empty seats in our 60 seat plane and the man sitting next to me refused to move. Yes, I know I could have moved but I was in the window seat and had my huge bags, I was a sherpa honestly, with me to pummel the people around me. Still, the guy next to me wouldn't move to any of the other 18 entirely free rows in the plane, I counted them all.

This was my first impression of Canada, and I wondered, does Canada think I'll be insulted if someone gets up and moves away from me during a flight? Is this what Canada does? Likes to stick to the rules? I never knew this about Canada, but okay fine, we can snuggle up in this tiny plane when there's lots of room to stretch out all over.

Once I arrived in Toronto I realized quickly: these people aren't Canadian....they're French. The french are rude. Everyone was speaking english, but I felt confused, disoriented by all the french signs around. I honestly felt mentally disabled and having to catch a bus from the tiniest airport terminal ever to the regular terminal didn't help. This never happened to me in America.

I had a very long layover in this place they call "Canada" but thought I would get myself checked in for my KLM flight so that I could spend the rest of the afternoon reading, writing and soaking in Canada in the terminal.

In Detroit no matter when you arrive for a flight you just walk up to the counter and you check in. At KLM you walk up and no one's there and they don't arrive for another hour for work. Canada was starting to seem really odd to me.

While waiting for the check-in counter to open, I cleared out my purse. I grabbed the envelope my first ticket had been in and thought, "I don't need this! I'm here and I'm going to Amsterdam!" So I threw it away.

What I forgot is that on the back of that envelope was my luggage claim ticket. This is important because for the next 4.5 hours, Canada made me travel to all three terminals several times each to try and find the missing luggage claim number.

Oh Canada how I grew to hate you in those 4.5 hours. You might say, 'But Melissa, you were the asshole who threw away your luggage claim number. Not Canada."

Or maybe you'll say, "But Melissa, Canada didn't send you on a wild goose chase, very specific people did."

I wasn't angry with Canada for the first two hours of the wild goose chase. I wasn't angry in hour three, I was just angry at myself for being so stupid. In fact I wasn't even that angry until the last half hour of the ordeal. At that point I wanted to choke and punch Canada.

I waited in, I am not exaggerating, 18 different lines in 4.5 hours. I waited in lines for shuttles to different terminals. I waited in lines which were wrong lines but I didn't know. I was told I needed to go to terminal 3. At terminal 3, they said go to terminal 2. At terminal 2 they couldn't believe terminal 3 would tell me to go to 2, you have to go to terminal 3. No, they couldn't just call that desk and ask them for the number for me. I guess the phones in Canada are different, in that they don't connect to each other.

Each time I explained my predicament Canada acted like it didn't speak English and had no idea what the hell I was talking about.

"I threw away my luggage claim ticket accidentally. I need the claim number so KLM will be able to track my luggage."

Canada? Why does that confuse you?

The precise moment I wanted to murder Canada came at the United counter, in hour 4 of this ordeal. You see I'd taken an Air Canada flight but duh! It originated in Detroit and United runs those flights so obviously that's where I needed to go all along. Okay fine Canada, these are the types of things you may have mentioned the first time I was at terminal 2 or maybe when I was at the first, second or fifth Air Canada desk. But okay, you're Canada maybe I don't know how you work.

I wait in line for another 17 minutes and finally get my turn. I explain my situation to a snarling man with fangs and excessive facial hair (he was actually a fairly well groomed gay man) and I hadn't even started crying yet, though the panic was starting to rise in my throat.

He looked confused and said, "Oh no, I can't print that number for you. No. No I can't do it." (I think he may have said 'No' four more times just to be sure I heard how serious he was about not helping me. No.)

I have never wanted to bite a human being before. I've wanted to spank someone, I've wanted to choke someone. I've wanted to slap someone across the face. I control those urges of course, but never before have I wanted to actually put my teeth on another person's flesh.

I wanted to bite that man. I wanted to bite him right through his bones and when he asked me to stop I wanted to say, "Oh no. No nononononono I can't do that for you! No. No. No."

I started to cry at that point because when I asked him where I needed to go to get the number he pointed to another Air Canada line which was winding around and would take me at least another 30 minutes to get through.

At that point I decided to speak to someone at the first class desk even though I was clearly not a first class passenger, because first class passengers have nothing to cry about. They don't even need luggage claim tickets, they get a midget who carries their luggage gingerly from plane to plane.

I told her my story and she was mostly kind but also annoyed and she made some calls and looked some things up and then, would you like to know what she did?

She stood up, walked back over to the snarling fanged gay man and GOT THE GOD DAMNED NUMBER FROM HIM. Let that soak in for a minute, okay?

So after 4.5 hours I have the stupid number and am checked into my flight. I get through security and decide to buy a magazine to read while I wait for my flight. But it got better because then Canada stole my money.

I didn't think I had exact change when she gave me the total so I handed over a ten. She reminded me that I'd get back Canadian money. I said, "Oh, okay." and looked at my wallet a little closer. Surprise! There was the exact change I needed. So I said .5 seconds after she reminded me about the change issue, "Wait, I have the exact change."

Keep in mind she's handed nothing to me and hasn't even put my ten in her register yet.

She then turned into a snarling medusa-like creature with snakes all over her head and said, "Sorry. In Canada we steal your money too," and refused to give me back my money. So I wouldn't be stuck with a bunch of Canadian money I'd have to pay to have transferred back to US funds.

Fine. Thank you Canada. It's now 5pm and I have so far had a Luna bar to eat all day. I go find a place to have a very unsatisfying burger and a mildly satisfying beer. I open my laptop thinking at least I can now check my email, thinking I'll pay whatever it costs to connect to the internet in Canada. I don't care.

But Canada, it was then that you pushed just one step too far. There is no wireless internet access at your airport and that is unforgiveable.

Canada, I know you didn't do all this to me, I know. It's just that I always thought it was national law that everyone in Canada be as nice as this Canadian? I feel disillusioned.

I'm sure in time I'll be able to move on. I'm sure I'll once again remember all the things I love about Canada. But right now, I still kind of want to bite you.

Hard.

When I arrived in Amsterdam I kissed Alice on the lips and said, "I'm so happy you aren't Canadian."

Updated to add: Hey hey hey....I don't really hate Canada (but I do hate Pearson Airport) and I don't want my comments to turn into a serious Canada bash-fest. So tread lightly guys.

I can give birth but I can't find my way to the bathroom.

I've never been very good at writing about my trips. It's very busy while you're there, trying to absorb as much as possible. Then so much happens, it's hard to remember it all once you're able to sit down.

Breakfast was in fact amazing and when Alice describes what she drank and how drunk she felt afterward I'm slapped in the face with my incredible tolerance. Alice describes herself as drunk and yet I felt quite lucid. In fact I drank more last night just having pizza with my friends. Eeks.

We saw all the sights and they were amazing. Thank you so much to everyone who sent tips. Alice's dad was great about keeping a running tally of the places people referred us to and checking them off the list as we saw them.

A friend had told me that the Van Gogh Museum would "change your life". I worried as we waited in line to enter. How would my life change? Would I return home to find my husband and children gone? Would I assume the identity of a meth addict in South Dakota? You just couldn't know.

But now that I'm home, life looks kind of the same. Except I miss Amsterdam.

We went to the Anne Frank house, Alice's dad opted out (he didn't want us to see him cry is my guess) and cry I did. Alice was afraid to cry in front of me and I really didn't want to be so typical so I tried to control the sobs. When we left in the morning the doorman (yes! we had a doorman!) asked jovially where we were going. When we told him the Anne Frank house he started to say, "Have a wonderful time," but quickly changed his tone to a more solemn one.

Which it's vacation so why put yourself through that? But I needed to see it.

I think the best times I had in Amsterdam were the times I walked around alone. When we're at a restaurant I make Logan find the bathrooms for me and then, before I'll go, I want a detailed map to help me find the precise location of the women's room.

I also live in a small-ish town and I don't use public transportation and my city center is about 10 blocks total. I'm 32 but I often feel like a child. Five years ago I would never have believed I'd fly across the country by myself, rent a car and find my way around San Francisco and it's suburbs all on my own. I don't even like to find the bathroom at a restaurant by myself.

Five years ago I could never have believed I would fly across the Atlantic by myself and then navigate my way around a foreign city all by myself. Hopping on and off trams and walking along city blocks with names I couldn't pronounce. This may not seem like a big deal to a whole lot of people, my husband included. But I have to admit the confidence I've gained from exploring and traveling independently has changed who I am I think.

One afternoon I decided to find a shop I'd read about, but I misread my map (which is typical) and ended up on the longest walk of my life. I kept myself calm mainly thinking eventually I'd have to run into something I recognized, it's not that big a city. If I came across maidens in wooden shoes, I'd realize I'd gone too far.

The only problem is, if you're going the wrong direction it's not as if the city just drops off. If you walk long enough you end up in the suburbs or Belgium. Or at the freeway, which somehow while nestled in the city center, I'd forgotten the are freeways in Europe. When I walked up to the freeway I began to panic. My map was small and didn't cover much outside the center of Amsterdam.

I walked for over an hour and saw so many small crooked streets and little bridges and since I was beginning to panic I didn't take enough pictures. I never cried or totally freaked out, I just kept walking and trying to take in as much of the city as I could. I think sometimes when you're lost you see the most stuff. People getting their cars repaired at the mechanic, contractors pulling plywood sheets up to the top floor of a canal house with pulleys, women pushing children on swings in the park, baby swans in a canal.

Finally, as 6 o'clock approached and Alice and her dad would begin to worry about where I was, I decided to ask someone how to get back to where I belonged. I stopped the first mother with children I came across, which is amusing because that's what I tell Maddie and Max to do if they get lost, find a mommy with her kids. I was only a block from the hotel at that point.

The next day I decided to find the Waterlooplein flea market and got there very easily on two trams. However on the way back I took the tram going in the wrong direction. At first this seemed like a bad thing but I decided to just stay on since the trams just circle around the city, eventually I'd see something I recognized. (Which seems to be my kiss of death as evidenced from my 50 mile walk just the day before.)

The trams do loop around but they go much further than you'd expect. We'd joked that if you saw cattle grazing you may have gone too far out of the city. When I saw a girl riding a horse, I decided I'd been on the tram going the wrong direction long enough and got off.

The nice thing was, it was our last night in the city and there was still so much we hadn't been able to pack in. So on my ride at least I got to see the amazing buildings of the Artis Zoo and some beautiful buildings around Oosterpark. And I still made it back to the hotel in time to meet up for dinner.

After all that getting lost, I feel like I could find my way around Amsterdam incredibly easy. It's like I needed three days to get my bearings, and now I wish I were still there.

I hope to go back with Logan sooner rather than later so he can show me where the bathrooms are.

It is 12:31 am....

and I am happy to report I shamed Alice into drinking with me.

shamed her.

And we met a nice person (a local, Logan will be happy to know and it was a much better interaction with a local than this interaction I had the other day. eeeks. Stupid Americans.)

And she took us to a couple of bars

I have pictures

but it's late and I have a lot to pack into the last two days of this trip. I can't believe how fast it goes.

Alice was so eager to prove me wrong about her ability to drink I fear I'll have to leave her here a gutter drunk and she'll be screaming at me, "I can so drink more than 1.5 beers you evil bitch!!!!"

And I will reply, "I don't speak what you're talking."

Really though, Alice realized my trick tonight. If you keep a nice flow of about one drink an hour, you just don't feel like going to bed at 9pm, you feel like staying up all night practicing hugs. I'm really not pushing her though anymore because I really am afraid she'll become like me and I'm not sure she wants to drink to drink that much.

Amsterdam is well known for it's tea choices you know.

For someone who has drank less and slept more than any other time in my life, I certainly am tired.

We're seeing all sorts of things. The museums, the canals, dog crap all over.

I dont' have time to write. I dropped Alice for her nap and headed out on my own for a while. For a suburban girl I'm fairly savvy about finding my way around, I'm impressed with me.

I have some flickr photos up for now and I hope to get some more writing done, maybe tonight while Alice has her tea after dinner and I wish for Logan to be here to head to bar so I can have nice loud conversations and people watching.

The amount I drink is of great interest to the Bradley's. Of course their sobriety is of great interest to me. I had three beers with dinner and the conversation somehow turned to how you can't tell when alcoholics are drunk. Hrm? I am afraid to tell them I can drink far more than that at playdate. I shudder to imagine the looks. Of course, let's hope Alice doesn't read this site until we're home.

Our vacation style in the recreation department are seriously mismatched, I make Alice feel like a teetotaler and I feel like a lush in comparison to Alice and her Dad.

I'm honestly amazed people live lives free of any alcohol, even on vacation. I'm stunned. Utterly stunned. I just don't even want to imagine a life like that. It makes me tear up.

Anyway here are the pictures and I've been keeping notes so I don't forget things. The hardest part about being here is wishing Logan was here with me. It's not that I just miss him, it's that he and I are perfectly matched in the recreation department. In fact if he could just fly over for dinner and drinks each night I think things would be perfect.