Schiphol and the Golden Shot!

Schiphol airport from the  air

Do you ever wonder how your luggage gets where it's going when you travel by plane?

It is something I care not to think about about too much whilst travelling. Once it rolls down the conveyor belt and drops out of sight with a resounding thud, leaving me wondering in how many pieces my valuables were now in, it is completely out of my hands. I just have to roll up to the carousel at my destination and hope for the best. To be fair I have only lost my luggage once. 

Sometime ago I bought my daughter a shiny new suitcase but the one we collected 8 hours later looked as though it had been dangled from the back of the plane by a rope all the way and struck just about every single blunt object in its path. So perhaps it is better not to inquire!

But I did have an insight when travelling through Amsterdam's Schiphol airport a few years back. I had just arrived back on a "red eye" from the US and guess what? I was a little bleary eyed. The tag line at the time for Schiphol was that all flights were under one roof, no need to change terminals. The result of this (that they didn't tell you) was that you pretty much have to traverse the whole of the Netherlands to reach the gate of your next flight. The plane has already landed in Germany and then taxied all the way back to Amsterdam followed by a forced march up escalators, travelators, past sushi bars, coffee shops and tech stores not to mention fellow travelers

Weary and thirsty after my hike from gate to gate I was assailed with some bad news. Well badish. The flight home was full! However would I like to accept a flight voucher of 150 euros, a flight to Edinburgh instead and a free taxi to my destination. I said yes to all the above

The desk clerk said "Great, thank you very much! now we just have to remove your luggage and send it to the correct flight"
"Fine!" I replied and turned toward a coffee stall I had eyed from a good half mile away as I turned onto the long corridor that led to my gate.
"Ah no, You have to tell us which one it is" She said. My mind raced as I tried to recall the distinguishing features of my suitcase. If I could remember which one I used. I think she could see my jet lagged and sleep deprived mind revolting in the face of such a task.
"You must point it out to us" she said. My mind, grateful at being able to drop the previous task, raced ahead with thoughts of just where and how I would do just that!

At that moment a lad arrived, with an expression not unlike a puppy that just wants to please, holding a radio. He exchanged a few words in what I presumed was Dutch but my language skills are such that I don't recognise English sometimes so it might have been anything. My mind was struggling with imagining just where this lad was going to take me whilst also trying to drag my attention back to the coffee bar.

Fokker 100

Before I could truly begin comprehend what was actually going on, the lad with the radio leapt into action going through a glass doorway and down a set of steps that must of been there before I just hadn't noticed it. 
"Come with me" said the clerk and begun position me at a window from which all I could see was a KLM F100 plane and what looked to my tired eyes a hay wane piled high with luggage. 
Stood next to the hay cart was our puppy eyed friend. He brought his radio to his lips and some words crackled across the airwaves onto the radio that the girl next me was carrying
"Can you see your suitcase?"she asked. I replied in the affirmative and said it looked like it was half way up the pile on the right hand side
"Can you direct him to it?" she asked
"Well I will give it a try" I don't know any Dutch so I thought I probably couldn't but what she meant was that I could relay the instructions to her and she would direct her colleague.

What followed was an episode of a show called the Golden Shot. An early 1970's game show hosted by Bob Monkhouse where callers direct the aim of  crossbow at a target whilst just calling up, down, left, right and fire. 
And so it came to pass that I called 
"Up a bit, left a bit" etc etc. Instead of the cross hairs of a crossbow bolt I had a young lad with an out stretched arm with his index finger pointing at various items of travel paraphernalia. The catch was that there was an inevitable delay from my instruction,to it being interpreted by the clerk, recieved by the bloke on the hay cart and then executed.

It was quite some feat by this lad. He eventually had to start scaling the luggage mountain with his radio in hand and then point at luggage. Not an inconsiderable task.

My yet to be coffee addled brain was struggling with the whole bizarre nature of this event

After a few over fly's we landed on my luggage and then baggage handlers were summoned not only to retrieve my suitcase but the lad on cart also as he had become entangled in some netting around the suitcases. He returned to the departure lounge, eventually, after transferring the case to the cart heading for Edinburgh and received a metaphorical pat on the head from the clerk and he went on his way, no doubt to climb other mountains but also with the applause from the departure lounge ringing in his ears.

The morale of the story is that if you have ever wondered what happens to your luggage when you are in the air spare a thought for the handlers as they may just have moved mountains to get it to you