The mobile factory

I’ve packed my bags in a flash. I’ve agreed to be at Fokko’s place at three o’clock, so there’s no time to lose. This is our second trip to Indonesia. If it is anything like the first, then I hope Fokko is taking along enough anti-diarrhea pills. We arrive at Amsterdam airport well on time. Like experienced globetrotters we wait in the business lounge for our boarding call. At a quarter past four there is still no word. We had carefully tuned our planning of alcohol consumption to the scheduled departure time, but alas. “The flight is delayed due to a minor technical problem,” a cheerful voice announces. “It may take an hour or so.” There is nothing we can do but wait. At nine o’clock at night the situation is still unchanged. The pleasant voice sounds through the intercom once again, to inform us that our flight is now canceled. “All passengers are requested to come to the information desk.” We are given a hotel voucher, as the plane will not leave until early next day. Our whole group is conducted to a bus like a herd of cattle. Everyone that is except us, because Fokko decides resolutely: “If I have to spend the night in Holland, then in my own bed.” So, while we should be on our way to Indonesia, we head back home instead.

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The shoebox

It is Saturday morning. I’ve jumped out of bed early. As soon as I open the back door, the cat greets me enthusiastically. She knows that Saturday is different from a workday because the morning ritual is more relaxed than during the week. First, nice and easy, I put on a pot of coffee.

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ACME wings

“Get ready for take-off and wait for my signal.”

I raise my eyes to the bayonet catch that dangles above my head and pull sharply at it to make sure it’s closed. Next I check the chinstrap of the helmet and take a final look at the Velcro fastening of the parachute. There is nothing more to check, and I’ll have to face up to what is coming.

Lees verder Time