Last night’s travel-fest was something we’d rather not repeat anytime soon.

After finally getting a 913pm takeoff slot to get into Atlanta’s airspace, we were asked to reboard the plane to be prepared for our eventual departure. Thankfully we did push back from the gate right on time and did the same for takeoff.

The only remaining glitches were the arrival gate — all the way out on E concourse — and the wait for our bags in the claim area. 35 minutes *after* navigating our way from the furthest point in the airport to baggage claim, we got our bags.

The whole thing finally ended with us getting home around 1130pm to a chorus of two meowing cats — 19 hours after we left for the train station in Amsterdam. Finally now the trip is over, but the morning-after work hangover is now underway.

We should’ve been home by now, but the thunderstorms that rolled through Atlanta earlier this afternoon have caused delays for many inbound flights from around the country. So, it’s time for a quick lesson in air traffic control.

Whenever inclement weather causes an airport to stop inbound flights from landing, it can cause a massive traffic jam. The regularly scheduled and the newly-delayed flights now compete for the finite number of landing slots at a given airport. Airlines will assign their landing slots based on the “priority” of the flight.

Unfortunately, our flight from Cincinnati to Atlanta is not one of the higher priority flights.

Since we’re taking another 90 minute delay, we’ve been told we can get off the plane if we don’t stray too far. Andrea is doing what any sensible person whose body clock thinks it’s 2am would do — find quiet spot in the lobby and take a nap.

I hope my turn happens soon, in my own bed.

What a quick little trip this was!

Our start to this morning’s journey was uneventful. We braved the 21 Euro hotel buffet breakfast (over $25!) to have a relaxing start to our trip back to Atlanta. An efficient train ride and easy airport navigation process was super easy (thanks, Schiphol!), and we even scored some cheese wheels at the last minute gift shop.

Our last row seats are a drag, but we’ll be home before we know it.

Tot ziens from Amsterdam!

We started pretty strong — no walking for the first mile, and we were enjoying ourselves.

Then during our first walking break, a small girl went running by. We knew we had to step up the pace.

So we’d run a bit, and walk a bit, all the while never quite pulling away from her.

In the end, as we approached the Olympic Stadium finish line, this 8 year-old Finnish girl pulled away and beat us by 200 meters.

Does that mean we are getting old?

A clog and a beer — how quintisentially Dutch!