Before our recent Best of London tour, we spent about 5 or 6 days in Amsterdam and London. We were only in Amsterdam for 2 nights (and less time than we had intended; see below) so there won’t be much about that here.
The first section will sound like a sad sack pity party, but it wasn’t really; just a travel day whose plans went awry. We had a wonderful time, once we got there and had a night’s sleep.
Briefly: our flight from Tulsa to DFW was running late, and was uncomfortable enough that I could see grumbling ahead (I believe the “no grumps” policy doesn’t actually take effect until the RS tour begins,) so as soon as we got to DFW I headed to the British Airways desk and upgraded us to business class for the rest of the journey. It was a splurge, but in retrospect, I’m glad we did it.
The flight from DFW to Heathrow was running late, but I had hopes we could make the short connection at LHR to catch the third leg of the journey, to Amsterdam. Well, the weather put paid to that. LHR was socked in with fog; our plane had to circle for quite some time, and when we were finally able to touch down, we had to wait on the tarmac because the plane occupying our arrival gate couldn’t leave! We actually set foot in the airport 2 hours late, and our flight to AMS had already departed.
I wasn’t worried, though, because I had planned an early afternoon arrival in Amsterdam, so even if we had to leave a bit later, we’d still arrive in time to enjoy the city a bit, right? Right?
Well, maybe not. BA had a table set up at the gate for those of us with missed connections. They had indeed booked us on a later flight to Amsterdam, but it left from the London City Airport. “You just have to get there; here are your boarding passes and 2 food vouchers.”
This is the kind of situation that would be simple, had we had any advance notice. But when you’re tired, stressed, and confused, it might be a bit more unsettling. We went through passport control, and I headed to a booth with a big sign: “Information.” Great. I explained our situation, and the young woman said, “Well, the easiest thing to do would be to take the train.” “That’s fine, point us in the right direction,” I said. “But they’re not running today,” she responded. “You can take a bus, but you probably won’t get there in time.” “A cab then?” I asked. “I can book you a car; it’ll take you right to the door.” Ok, fine.
I thought she was calling a cab; it turned out to be a private car service, which cost £130. It took about 20 minutes before our driver arrived, which had us nervous, but he did come, and the drive although long, was pleasant. Traffic was very heavy, the entire week being school holidays. As we drove past various museums, the crowds were enormous. The car was lovely, a Jaguar with a clear roof, so we got to see a lot of London. Our driver made observations about sights along the way.
He did take us right to the door of the London City Airport, and we had enough time to find something to eat. We were glad of this, because neither of us had wanted breakfast on the plane, it was now midday, and now we weren’t getting into Amsterdam for hours after our planned arrival.
We had a good lunch at “The Cabin” in the airport; I had good sausage and mash, and Stan had a chicken sandwich and chips (fries.) Both plates were generously filled; we could easily have split one. Oh, those vouchers? The restaurant wouldn’t take them. “They’re not valid; there’s no bar code” said the cashier. By that time the fellow who had told us they would take them had disappeared, so we just handed over our debit card. £40.
The flight to AMS was quite pleasant; it was actually funny. We had been upgraded to first class, and were the only people in that section of the plane! The cabin steward was our personal attendant, which was creepy, but we all (he included,) laughed about it.