210 Edinburgh-Amsterdam (KLM): Once again I decided to keep KLM on their toes by booking the lunchtime flight for a change, meaning a relaxed morning making my way out to EDI. The airport was a little busier than I expected for lunchtime on a Thursday, but security was quick and organised as always. A last minute trip to the bookshop turned out to be a particularly protracted affair, with the only assistant boring the arse off the customer in front of me with a lengthy explanation of how distributors choose what books go to what store. I only wanted a postcard for my Airbnb host for my traditional thank you note, having forgotten to pick one up earlier in the week.
Flight was pretty busy, including a young family in the row behind me who needed a gentle reminder from the cabin crew to please stop fucking around deciding what bags you needed for take-off and sit the fuck down with your kid so she could signal the cabin was ready for departure. Sorry, but if you decide to have children then you have to accept that you just cannot travel for the next ten years, or that the vast majority of your fellow passengers are going to utterly despise you. Today we had the cheese sandwiches, which I accepted before remembering I was trying to avoid eating too much for a very good reason.
211 Amsterdam-Vienna (KLM): Schipol wasn’t particularly busy on arrival, and as I had over four hours transit time I was able to meander around the shops a little and take my time getting through the Schengen border. And as I had such a long transit time on this trip, I had decided to finally treat myself to the KLM Crown Lounges en route (motivated slightly by the 25% discount I now received thanks to my silver status). My only previous lounge experiences had ranged from dismal at the Swissport lounge in GNV to very good at the new Aspire lounge in EDI; hopefully I could expect more of the latter than the former.
Having found the lounge, getting access was straightforward enough, all I had to do was scan my boarding pass at the entrance. This was the smaller of the two Crown Lounges at Schipol, and I was slightly worried that it would be a little busy, but it was actually barely a third occupied. The area was a fair size, with a nice mix of seating, a bar area, hot and cold buffets and some coffee shops. That said, some of the fixtures and fittings were a bit worn out, with some ripped seats, carpet stains and blocked toilets. I plumped for a big, unripped comfy armchair, dumped my bag (I presumed the usual concerns about leaving your stuff lying around in airports didn’t apply in a lounge) and immediately headed for the bar and poured myself a respectable glass of Heineken. Encouraged by my non-foamy success, I soon headed back for a second, along with a whisky soda. Seeing all the self-serve optics made me wish I’d brought my water bottle, although it was only Teacher’s.
There was a reason for the blistering drinking pace, as I wanted plenty of time to potentially sober up a little before departure, so I had resolved to only drink for the first hour or so, (although obviously I wanted to get my thirty quid’s worth!). Pleasantly relaxed by a few drinks and having enjoyed a bit of my book, I decided to head for the hot buffet. The selection was ok at first glance, but closer inspection showed the offerings in the large bowls wasn’t what you might have hoped; the penne bolognese was just very dry, meatless pasta, and the sweet and sour chicken was essentially a bowl of green beans which needed a magnifying glass to find any chicken in. And after heaping my little plate with as much as I could balance on it, I also found it was all pretty lukewarm. The curry soup was nice though, and I took a few bowls of that. I sampled the cold buffet after, which was a decent selection of meat and cheese, breads, salads and vegetables. Plus some brownies and donuts, which I should have left alone but obviously did not. Twice. And after having spent a few hours trying to get my money’s worth in food and drink, I was happy to retire to a quiet corner and continue with my book for the remainder of my visit, especially as the lounge was starting to fill up considerably. Much better than GNV, not quite as good as EDI.
Wined and dined after a few hours in the lounge, I headed for my evening flight to Vienna. Opted for an aisle seat, as I didn’t think the views on my 10:20 pm arrival would be particularly interesting, plus I wanted a quick deplaning in order to head to try and reach my hotel before midnight. Another cheese sandwich was on offer, which I didn’t need at this stage, and the flight was pretty uneventful otherwise.
Had only visited VIE once eight years previously, so I didn’t remember much about the layout. What I had forgotten was how utterly spotless the place was. The luggage was available pretty quickly after landing and I was through arrivals in plenty of time for my super-cautious 23:19 train booking to the city. Although almost all of the shops, cafes and restaurants were closed at this time, I took the opportunity to do a bit of scouting for my pre-departure shopping next week.
212 Vienna-Amsterdam (KLM): For the return to VIE I didn’t bother going through the city, instead opting for a direct Flixbus from Most SNP in Bratislava. The journey was a little less lively than the bus to Bratislava a few days earlier, when the booking computer had placed me in the middle of a German hen night, who had happily shared some schnapps and snogs en route. I was a little too cautious in the timing of the booking, arriving at VIE well ahead of time. But at least this meant I could get a few more radlers for my checked bag and a belated first schnitzel from the airport supermarket. There was a brief flashpoint at the check-in counter, when the agent realised the French couple in front of me were not entitled to be using the priority bag drop, and gave them a good scolding in front of the lengthy queue. Security was a scoosh, leaving plenty of time to browse the retail options. Picked up a few gifts for friends and family, and I was also tempted by an ice-cold glass of lager at the little bar beside my gate.
The flight was one of those ‘lawless’ ones where it seemed nobody cared about anything. The passenger behind me had somehow gotten a carry-on bag the size of a coffin onboard, which was so big it barely fit under the seat in front of me, before the cabin crew advised it would be a lot better in the luggage bin. A woman in the row in front of me had to be told three times to put her tray table up before landing, and then put it back down again anyway as soon as the cabin crew were seated. Sandwiches were cheese again, but this time I remembered to turn mine down to save my appetite for the Crown Lounge again.
213 Amsterdam-Edinburgh (KLM): Today I had an even longer transit time of over five hours, which had made me wonder about maybe leaving the airport for a flying visit to Amsterdam, Haarlem or even Zandvoort. But then I remembered I had bought a bottle of schnapps at VIE, which I would now lose if I left the airport and then had to go back through security, so that plan had to be scrapped. The queue at the border was non-existent, (which was most un Schipol-like), on the one day I was in no rush whatsoever.
The non-Schengen Crown Lounge was at least twice the size of the Schengen one I had visited last week. This time I would have to eat and drink even more in order to get my forty-two quid’s worth. Despite the bigger size, everything else was pretty much the same as the other one with a few additional perks; the bar had zero-alcohol Heineken, (which was served in a glass with a massive chunk out of the rim), and there was an outdoors terrace to enjoy your drink in the sunshine (which was closed). The hot buffet was barely warm again. This I could put up with, but what I could not deal with was the incessant background music. I couldn’t remember if there had been music in the other lounge last week, but wherever I went today I could not escape it, roaming endlessly from one end of the lounge to the other with my book and beer trying to find a quiet spot. Eventually I gave up and left the lounge after only ninety minutes, and opted for a quiet corner of the airport library on Holland Boulevard instead.
Flight home was fine (cheese yet again), but as always EDI had some late night ineptitude to show us on arrival. This time it was the ‘no gate agent to lead us to the terminal’ routine, which I’ve already had a few times. As the minutes ticked by and we waited impatiently on the aircraft to deplane, I could see the luggage was already being unloaded; at least someone was getting off the fucking aircraft. Fifteen minutes later a member of ground staff eventually arrived to guide us from our aircraft that had arrived exactly when it had been expected to. At least there was no queue at the border, which led to everyone ducking under all the barriers en masse towards the egates, much to the annoyance of the one airport worker who was trying to control us. If I could arrive at any other airport I would.
Gill 9A 