I spent last week in Amsterdam on business but managed to spend some time sightseeing and shopping.
I discovered Stroopwafels which are difficult to describe - but imagine a round sandwich with the top and bottom made from the same material as a waffel cone and filled with caramel. A word of warning: The first 15 are AMAZING. The next 15, less so. The thrid 15 are nauseating.
I discovered LUSH, a cosmetics store that uses all natural ingredients. I AM LOVING their Chinese mud and Rosemary face scrub but punted on their mud mask when they told me it had to be kept refrigerated so it didn't grow mold.
I bought cute wooden shoes for my daughters and an AWESOME knit hat for my younger son. My older son had his heart set on a snow globe so that's what he got.
And I bought a skin tight black shirt for my husband. Oh, the shirt was for me to wear but it was a gift for my husband - if you get my point.
But the night before I left I felt bad returning home with nothing specifically for my husband. He's into hunting and doesn't mind a relaxing smoke once in a while so I decided to get him this:
Which seemed like a FABULOUS idea while I was standing there in the red light district but revealed itself to be a VERY BAD idea the following day at airport security.
First, I went through Amsterdam airport security, which is essentially non-existent. Then I walked through the airport in a DESPERATE search for a croissant. Finally I went to my gate where I found "American security."
This was disastrous for a number of reasons. First of all it meant that I couldn't carry any Diet Coke onto the plane. For anyone with a substance abuse problem you know what I mean when I tell you that I was NOT HAPPY at the prospect of spending 8 hours with a rationed supply of Diet Coke - no matter how friendly and generous the Delta Flight Attendants were.
The next disaster occurred when I put my briefcase through the scanner and the TSA agent pulled it aside and asked, "Is this yours?"
Just as I was trying to figure out how to say, "It's a vibrator" in dutch, she pulled out the gift bag for my husband.
"It's metal?" she asked.
I nodded.
CRAP! Busted for drug paraphernalia.
But there's no residue! It's a tobacco grinder!
Foolish American.
The could not have cared less about my grinder's illicit purpose or past - they cared that it was shaped like bullets.
And the fact that it unscrewed completely - revealing nothing inside?
Didn't matter.
And the fact that bullets without a gun are not really a threat?
Didn't matter.
So I asked them, "Well, can I put it in my luggage and check my luggage?"
"Nope."
"Can I go back through security and mail it to myself at home?"
"Nope."
So I left my bullet grinder at the TSA counter in Amsterdam.
And I learned a valuable lesson - DO NOT TAKE BULLET VIBES on airplanes!
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