The Wayward Law

Dear bloggies, bloggarazzi, and bloggists! Lend me your land-based ears! Hear what I have to say from 40,000 feet, worth even less than the $0.04 a minute that Boeing is charging. Hey, it’s cheaper than law school (which, if you’re curious, costs $3/minute; something to think about the next time you consider a J.D.). So, this is going to be a collection of things I’ve noticed over the past month.

The crazy Norwegian

So, I’m with my dad and Barbara, his fiancee in Flåm, and there is this big cruise ship in the harbor. This is strange, because mostly small ferries and trolls hang out in Flåm, so I goes up to da ferry and notice a guy standin’ there, and I says, hey, ferry guy (in Norwegian, well…Danish in a Norwegian accent, which works), what gives? What’s wit dis here ferry? And what does ferry guy say? He sizes me up, sees that I’m a friend (judging by my attempt at Norwegian), and laments, “This here ship is going to Bergen, packed to the gills on every floor with Germans. Look…they’re all around. At least they’re leaving soon.” Old grudges die hard in Flåm, I suppose.

The Boat That Never Came

Dad, Barbara and I (this was a common theme in early June) can’t figure out what to do on our second-to-last day in Amsterdam. We decide to head out to the Jewish quarter by canal boat, and notice on the canal boat schedule that accompanies our ticket that one would have come by in the past 10 minutes…ordinarily, one would think we were SOL. However, we were hopeful that we could still make it, as the canal boats had been running about 25 minutes late. We go down to the dock, hoping to see a boat coming down the canal, and while waiting, I decide to inquire as to the recent comings and goings of canal boats from the canal boat experts/fresh meat recruited to sell tickets for the summer. I go up to the kiosk and ask, “So, any canal boats come through here recently?” Now, fellow reader, these canal boats are LARGE. Like Leon large. At least 100 feet. Not the sort of thing you’re going to lose behind a sofa. What does our missing dutch link respond? “Umm…hmm…canal boat, eh!?…Ask the guy at the dock.” Fair enough, I think. He’s busy selling tickets, or postcards, or sodas, or health insurance (that’s a long shot…they have socialized medicine in Holland). I go down to the dock, and find the guy working there, and say, “Old woman! What knight lives in that castle!” Now, ok…my Dutch is rusty, and the flunky working the dock is from Hoboken, so something got lost in translation. When we decided to continue the conversation in English, I asked, “So, any canal boats come through here in the past 10 minutes?” To which our flunky replied, “Oh…umm…a boat? Wow…I don’t know.” I think I could have dealt with anything. “I can’t tell you on grounds of national security,” “Piss off,” “It’s againt my religion,” “If I tell you, will you call me in the morning?” would have all been acceptable responses. I was completely unprepared for “I don’t know”. We’re talking about something the size 3 Airstreams, not a cracker jack box. I sincerely hope for the future that he just decided not to tell me. Otherwise, I think we are doomed.