Work trip to Amsterdam and Zeist, Netherlands - 12th to 13th June 2008

This short trip to the Netherlands was a tale of airports and football. I went to Amsterdam after work, and had to endure an excruciating flight. I was sitting in the front row of the economy section, so immediately behind the back row of club. In said back row of club, were a couple - a short fat man in his 50s, and a thick chavvy woman in her 30s. They were both on a dirty weekend, cheating on their other halves, and going to see Bon Jovi at the Amsterdam Arena. He was loudly showing off to his bit on the side, by being an irritating wideboy. She was acting like lady muck because she was in business class (for a 40 minute flight). Horrible, horrible people, I hope I never see them again.

I stayed in a hotel near Schiphol, and had the pleasure of a room that faced the runway, whilst being completely soundproofed. When I first looked out of the window, I thought I could see a runway, but couldn't see any planes. After a minute or so, I almost had a heart attack when a huge Boeing 747-400 hurtled past the window, very close by. I was staying at the excellent NH Hotel, where they give you a free toothbrush and pack of Smints in your room - fantastic.

Back at Schiphol the following morning, I saw many people dressed in Orange, and about to fly to Switzerland for the Dutch game against France that evening. Many attractive ladies, dressed in orange and drinking first thing in the morning - spirits were already high, and it was strange to see drunk people in Schiphol airport that weren't British stag parties.

Typically for work trips to the Netherlands, a return train journey across the country was involved - and I saw lots of orange flags out in celebration of their Euro 2008 participation, and the win against Italy. The newspapers (from what I could make out) were going just as crazy as their English counterparts do when the country is involved in a major tournament. Maybe we aren't alone in the overt patriotism related to football, although the equivelants of the morons with the St George cross didn't seem to be there. When I landed back in the UK, I headed straight to the pub to watch them demolish France - must have been a great party in the Netherlands that night.