That One Chick #15
When I was a teenager, coming home from a trip to the Middle East, a friend and I got stranded in Holland for four days. It could have been fun, but in anticipation of actually leaving the country on Saturday morning, we spent all our Dutch money–therefore had no food for that whole time. We had to live at the airport until we could get a flight out. Being stand-by passengers in a foreign country, we held the same status as charity or non-paying passengers. In other words–we were considered the lowest of the low. Each time we got to the front of the line to get a boarding pass, the agent would say, “Paying customers first. Go to the end of the line.” With this method, we missed every flight out for four days.
It was a pretty strange situation because they had no water facets and you had to pay the janitors a tip just to use the restroom and again, we had no money–none. We had to wait until about 4am for the janitor to leave and then sneak in and drink from the sink facet, using our hands as cups.
By Tuesday morning we were pretty dang hungry so we slipped into the airport restaurant and waited until a fancy looking businessman finished his meal and went out. We rushed over and ate everything that he left behind. Even the parsley garnish tasted wonderful. We somehow pulled it off without being noticed and slipped back out to the airport. It was something at least.
That night when we finally got out and onto a plane headed to New York we were both so hungry and thirsty that when the flight attendant came by with the drink cart and peanuts, we both started to cry.
Cold, clean water never tasted so good.