“Getting There Is Half The Fun”

I’m here. In the UK. I’m at home. This is my house. The one I live in.

Ho-ly shi-it.

I did it. I actually went and did it.

Okay, let’s get some proper sentences in this post, before it starts looking like my Twitter stream.

So, last week was the last week at the old job. In the old country. It was a hard one. Every single day was an extremely busy one. I had tons to do outside of work, and had a lot to take care of before leaving. I think I did a good enough job rounding up on most things. There are some other things I wished I could have done before leaving the country, but I was so tired, exhausted and barely got the chance to get any proper time to myself. It was quite aggravating at times. I wanted to meet up with a few friends. Maybe even have a half-decent going away party. Catch a few sights for the last time. None of that happened. All I could do was work. Work, clean up and prepare for the big day.

Work itself was the busiest work week the restaurant had ever seen. Not an exaggeration or hyperbole either. Both my bosses agreed on this as a fact. Sales were good, I got my full pay on time. Plus the vacation money I was promised. And a small bonus. So at least there’s some good news in there. The bad news however, was that I was completely shattered at the end of it. That end would also be the moment I’d move.

While still struggling with a body that’s almost audible screaming at me to take a damn rest already, I was carrying a bunch of heavy bags to the airport. Ah, it was fun. The kind of fun that really isn’t any. For some reason, there were no direct trains to Schiphol from The Hague. Which is odd, considering there were trains going to Amsterdam. You’d think if there’s a connection to Amsterdam, you’d get one to Schiphol, but for some reason I had to take a train to Amsterdam and make my way to Schiphol from there. I still don’t really quite get it. And there were no announcements, notes, or anything about the fact. It just didn’t go there. It wasn’t until I got off at Amsterdam, that I heard an announcement about there not being any trains running between Schiphol and The Hague. Why this is getting announced at a train station that isn’t either is beyond me, but there you have it.

Things went a lot smoother at Schiphol this time around. Last time I couldn’t get the e-ticket machine thing to read my ID card. This time it did. I didn’t have to enter any information other than what my destination is to get my ticket printed. Much easier than last time, when I had to enter my e-ticket number, my ID card number, expiration date and my destination several times. I also found out why my ticket was overpriced the way it was. Apparently they were Business Class. Which is amazing, considering it didn’t mention that anywhere when I bought them.

Travelling business class was fun. Being allowed to start boarding before most people. Warm meal. Dessert. Warm Bread. A few cups of coffees. In the meantime everyone behind us got cookies and a can of soda of choice. There were only 8 of us in business class, and there were about 15 seats, so we weren’t crammed together like last time. So I’m not as angry about the price difference as I was earlier, now that I’ve got that experience. I don’t think I’ll ever fly business ever again though. As fun as it was to experience, it’s not worth the extra money. Guess I’ll have to book earlier next time.

After the unnecessarily luxurious plane ride was over, it was time to get my luggage and get the first train over to Sheffield. Luggage. Erm. yeah. Any second now the luggage should arrive, right? What time was it due again? 10 minutes ago? Hm, according to that we should have picked it up in a few minutes ago before it’s being taken off the belt here… No, wait… Here it finally comes. Half an hour late. Wait when was Sky coming to pick me up again? Now? Shit, I’m going to be late.

At least I had more luck with the train. It’s an hourly train, and I happened to get on it right before it left. Although I technically waited for a good half hour, keeping the luggage despair in mind, I felt lucky. The train ride took a bit over an hour. There was a girl sitting next to me, the skinny type you’d want to yell “eat a damn sammich” to. She was in fact, eating. A massive salad. Probably the largest one I’ve ever seen. She was eating that thing for the entire hour she sat next time me. A middle-aged woman sitting in front of me was playing what I assume to be Professor Layton. Not many games have you stare at the screen for several minutes, fiddle with the touch screen and then look either happy or upset immediately after. I spent the hour reading Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett for the second time. It’s still a fun book, and it’s always interesting to see how the style of the Discworld has changed since the start. The last book I read from him before that was Making Money. So there’s a bit of a difference between the two.

After finally arriving at the train station, I decided to just head to the fountain and see if Sky had fallen asleep at the fountain while waiting for me again. She wasn’t at the fountain. Just as I was about to turn around and start looking around for her, she jumped me from behind.  Her cousin was there as well, so I got to meet him too. I’m sharing the house I’m living in with these two, so I’ll be seeing them a lot from now on. Was good to get introductions out of the way as soon as possible. If I made any impressions it was probably a very tired and unexcited one. I had just spent about 7 hours travelling with heavy bags.  I think it was about 40kgs in total, if not, it was quite near that weight anyway.

There’s this notorious group of people known as “They” that always say the most inaccurate and weirdest things. “They” say that getting there is half the fun. I’m pretty sure that if anyone had ever said that, it was said in a time before airports and train stations. If they did say it in a time with such things having been invented already, I’m declaring “them” insane. Getting there was hell. Being there is great. But I just want to forget what it took to get there. I’d like to forget those last few days at work too.

So yeah, I’m okay. I’m almost great, but my body still aches a bit from the last week. So far I seem to be developing a decent sleeping pattern as well. I blame the lack of computer.


2 thoughts on ““Getting There Is Half The Fun”

  1. Remy is a man currently living in the Netherlands. He enjoys reading, guitarring, gaming, movies, complaining and writing. In that order.

    you wrong motherfucker you’re in my town now!

    Not literally

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