Paul versus the Volcano

I just returned from the most incredible bachelor party in Cartagena, Colombia. We stayed in the largest and most luxurious apartment in Cartagena, replete with an original Botero sculpture, penthouse pool and two hot tubs. And while a number of events took place that easily merit their own posts (what happens in Cartagena stays in Cartagena)it was the end of the fiesta when the real adventure began.


My travel back to Tel Aviv from Cartagena hit a snag, to say the least. First my departure from Panama City was delayed by the ash cloud over Amsterdam. Mount Eyjafjallajökull--actual name--had already ruined European travel for a month now, and it should not have been such a surprise. And as dad says, nature is a mother. But then an older gentleman had a heart attack on board (probably from all the screaming babies) that forced us to reverse course and land in Puerto Rico. We were already 45 minutes into the Atlantic, but it seems that Puerto Rico was the closest airport with a modern hospital.

Since no good deed goes unpunished, our unanticipated landing--gasp, without the proper paperwork to land!--resulted in a two hour delay on the tarmac in San Juan. It looked like my 7 hour layover in Amsterdam would now be just an hour and a half. But because Dutch labor laws require that the flight crew not work too many consecutive hours, the pilot flew us back to Panama City instead of continuing on to Amsterdam. We landed back in Panama City at precisely the time we should have landed in Amsterdam...an irony that was lost on the flight crew.

So is Dutch socialism the real villain here? I think so. And I'm angry...like Tea Party angry. If I make my connection in Amsterdam on Tuesday then I will be in Tel Aviv on Wednesday. Hopefully Jen will still recognize me by then.