Metro 54
took me to Amsterdam Centraal, which, being a transportation hub, was already
swarming with people. There I took the Intercity Direct train 926 to Rotterdam
Centraal, which makes a stop at Schiphol Airport. I arrived at 10:00.
The
airport has one single enormous passenger terminal with four departure halls
and eight concourses: B, C, D, E, F, G, H, and M. Depending on the gate from
which my plane was going to depart, I would have to walk a long distance from
the train stop. I sat down on a bench next to the first flight information
screen I found. I had to wait until 11:00 to see on the screen any information
about my flight. I had four hours to kill. As soon as my gate was shown on the
screen, I went through Security and Migration and walked to my departure hall.
By now, I
was hungry, so I searched for a place to have breakfast. After picking up my
food at the counter, I looked for a table to sit down at, but there was none.
There was a young lady sitting by herself on a table where there was an empty
space. I hesitated to ask whether I could sit with her, but she saw me looking
and signaled to me that it was alright. I thanked her. We introduced each
other. Her name was Eryna. She was from the Far East, studying in Amsterdam,
and going home for the summer vacation. Her plane was departing from Gate G3 at
12:31. After finishing my delicious breakfast, which consisted of boiled
vegetables, spinach, scrambled eggs, and salmon, I said good-bye to the girl.
Then I went to a book store. I usually buy
a book in every country I visit. Most of the stuff was in Dutch. I didn’t find
anything interesting in English. But they had some books in French. I was
browsing «Sept petites croix dans un carnet» by George Simenon. A gentleman
approached me and said,“That’s a good choice”. He was a fan of Simenon.
Consequently, we had an interesting discussion about le commissaire Maigret.
We introduced each other. He was a Dutch businessman going to the Far East on
business. His name was Lasse. His plane
was departing from Gate G3 at 12:31.
After
more walking around the terminal, I got tired and found a seat next to a big
glass window overlooking the tarmac, where I amused myself by observing the
aircrafts with strange airline names that I had never heard of, like Aegean
Airlines, Air Baltic, and Pegasus Airlines. Two running children, a boy and a
girl, bumped into me at the same time that their mother, who was sitting in
front of me, scolded them and ordered them to return to their seats and be
quiet. I assured her that it was not a big deal. We introduced each other. They
were from the Far East but living in the UK, going home to visit family and for
the children summer’s vacation. They were only connecting in Amsterdam. Her
name was Farah, the girl’s name was Ameera, and the boy’s name was Haruun.
Their plane was departing from Gate G3 at 12:31.
When my plane took off, and from the window all I
saw was water, canals, and green flat lands, I was gloating over the fact that
KLM was soon phasing out the McDonnell-Douglas MD-11, but not before I had a
chance to fly in the most beautiful tri-jet airliner ever built.
While
flying over Greenland, I was dazzled by the snow-covered island with many rocky
outcroppings. I was also thinking about my trip to the Netherlands. I thought
Amsterdam, with all its canals, bridges, trams, parks, ancient buildings, and
museums, was a magnificent city. The trip to Marken, Volendam, Edam, and Zaanse
Schans was memorable.
Eight and a half hours later, my plane touched down. Only the following day, after having taken a shower, drunk my coffee, and turned on the television set, I heard the shocking news about what had happened the day before. Malaysia Airlines Flight MH17 had been shot down by a missile launched by Russian-controlled separatist forces while flying over eastern Ukraine. All 283 passengers and 15 crew members were killed. The wreckage of the Boeing 777-200ER aircraft fell near Hrabove in Donetsk Oblast, Ukraine, 40 kilometres from the Russian border. It was another casualty of the Donbas conflict, collateral damage, a crime against humanity, another sign of human insanity, and the madness of war. The full weight of the tragedy came crushing down on me only when I realized that I had made it home safely, but Eryna, Lasse, Farah, Ameera, and Haruun had not.
© William Almonte Jiménez, 2023
