Amsterdam, Part 6

So finally at 2:30 we went back to the consulate, buzzed in and stated my reason for coming, gave a headcount, got searched again, went and got in a really long line to get into little room, realized that everyone else there was Dutch as the afternoon was for them to get visas to go to the US, two hours later got let into little room where we quickly bonded with the security man who was rather amused that the bags we were checking contained clogs and giant pens, and then it took about two seconds for me to pick up the passport. They had been making the Dutch people wait in the big long line again to pick up their bags, but as we were tight with the guard, we waved us right to the front. Getting ahold of the passport was seemingly the biggest obstacle we faced, and so finally having one in hand was a huge sigh of relief (see photo). But as it was about 3, we decided to call the British consulate just to make sure everything would be alright.

Not so much. The woman I talked to kindly informed me that I needed to make an appointment to come in the next morning to get a new visa put into my new passport. I asked if I could go back in as a tourist and get it fixed back in England. She said she didn't know. As this was a key issue, especially when it involves requiring two other people to a) change their travel plans, b) pay for me to change my travel plans and c) missing an entire management lecture, I refrained from making an appointment and said I would call back. I then broke the bad news to my fellow travelers. They were not pleased either. So they then began a frantic England-dialling session to get ahold of a parent of some kind who could try and figure out if I could get back in without having to go in the next day. To kill time until we got a response, we found a place that was warm and served beer.

We got some sort of answer around 4. My new options were to a) go into the consulate the next day and get the visa and march triumphantly back into England with no problems, or b) get on the plane with a photocopy of the lost visa and my new passport and it would be at the disgression of the immigration officer to let me in or turn me away, at which point I could either return to Amsterdam or come in as a tourist and have to return to the US to re-apply for a new visa. Looking at things now, the option of staying the extra day does indeed look like a good choice, but once again, I had no access to money and any shot of me getting back without incurring extra costs was obviously going to look quite rosy. So it was 4 hours until the flight, and we decided we would try and get the copy of the visa and head back to England.

As my parents can surely attest, it was not easy to get a copy of the visa. In fact, it was extremely difficult and stressful for all involved parties. But we finally got a hold of it at the airport, two hours before the flight was set to take off. We got checked in for the flight and then had to go through passport control, at which point the Dutch guy seemed to think my passport was fake (emergency passports look a bit different) and had to consult with the other woman before stamping it and letting me through. I considered this a bad omen. Schipol airport, like Gatwick, is larger than you would think, and they conveniently would not reveal the gate until 30 minutes before the flight, and then it take 15 minutes to get there, including going through security, so everyone there was paniced about missing their flight. While waiting to go through, one guy comes up to us and says he is about to miss his flight and would it be okay to cut, so we said okay. Then he waves to his 8 (yes, 8) friends and they all cut. Sneaky. But they apparently found pot on him so it amused me. And then, after a long day, I was finally on a plane.