This was my first time going to Amsterdam, about twelve years ago. Last minute business trip. I had no choice but to carry about 400 pounds of equipment with me. I think the excess baggage bill was about $2,000. It consisted of a set of anvil cases and pelican cases with all manner of equipment, even FPGA prototyping boards. I effectively had fully finished product as well as prototype hardware in order to be able to work on code based on feedback and demonstrate it.

The ordeal started in Los Angeles when I didn't have all of the right paperwork, including the necessary carnet, etc. Mad rush to get it all sorted the week of the trip.

I planned ahead and designed a custom heavy-duty dolly out of 80/20 extrusions to be able to move all of this stuff at both airports and within the city/hotel. The dolly had large wheels and could be taken apart and stored in the pelican case. Pile it on with the gear and a couple of ratchet straps held it all in place. Great plan.

I arrive at Schiphol and go to the carrousel. These things were pretty heavy, 60 to 90 lbs per case. This meant that when I saw one on the carrousel I had to be "all in". There was no messing around. Grab and get your whole body into it to pull the thing off the carrousel.

I see the first anvil case come around. I setup to grab it. The plan was to rotate it quickly onto my leg and use that as a fulcrum of sorts to rotate the case off the carousel. When I go to grab the case one of the handles feels really slimy. I mean, imagine if you squirted it with motor oil or pudding, somewhere in between those two. I was committed, so I ignored it. I pulled hard with both hands, put it on my leg, then, supporting it with my chest I got it down. It sounds awkward but it was a very natural move. Think olympic dead lifting but not quite going over your head.

Then I realize I am absolutely covered in yellow slime. Again, think somewhere between oil and pudding. Not quite liquid but not quite solid. Yellow and cold. Didn't smell. A few expletives later I had no choice but to get the other cases. All four of them were covered to some degree with this stuff.

By the time I get my luggage I look like I had gone mud wrestling in yellow slime. I was both angry and laughing my ass off. What are you going to do? Just roll with it.

I literally sat on the floor to take a moment. I was wearing loose fitting exercise clothes to be comfortable during flight. Thankfully the slime didn't go through the fabric.

I couldn't leave all of that gear alone. There was no way to clean myself up at that time. I got my dolly out and assembled it right there. Loaded all of the slime-covered cases onto it and set out to find the Custom's office.

When you travel with a lot of gear like that you need to have this document called a "Carnet" signed just about everywhere you go. It lists what you are carrying so that you don't have to pay import duties everywhere you go.

I soon learned that the Customs office was three buildings away from my terminal. And, of course, the only way there was to use this walkway that ramped up between buildings.

By the time I get to the Customs office I was sweating like a pig and covered with yellow slime. I can't even imagine what I must have looked like.

When I entered the room it was like I was Moses and the water parted. I mean, everyone got the fuck out of my way. It was hilarious. I get to the counter and the customs officer just signs the paperwork without even attempting to look inside the cases. I guess she didn't want to play with yellow slime.

As I go back to the hallway a janitor is making the rounds with his cart. He sees me and takes a look at my pile of cases covered in yellow slime. Without either one of us uttering a single word, the guy grabs to large rolls of paper towels and a full bottle of cleaner (like windex) puts them down on the floor next to my gear and continues walking.

Again, laughing my ass off as the entire thing was surreal beyond belief. So, here I am, windex-ing the shit out of everything, including myself, in front of the Customs office. Of course, when it came to my clothes I got a lot of slime off but also ended-up smearing a lot of it everywhere. I mean, I looked like shit.

Now I had to make the trip back three buildings to get back to my terminal and go through the immigration area. Everyone was pretty nice. I was asked about the contents of the cases, my paperwork was checked but nobody was interested in opening the cases. Also, oddly enough, not one person asked me what happened or why I looked the way I did. Are the Dutch that polite?

Once out I was able to go into a bathroom and at least wash off some of the slime and sweat. I didn't change my clothes because I just didn't want to dirty another set. I did clean the cases to a reasonable degree.

Getting a taxi was a real challenge. Few seemed interested in carrying that much stuff.

When I finally got one the guy took one look at me and another look at the equipment and said "I have a bad back, sorry". So, I had to load all of the equipment onto the van. By this point in time I was absolutely exhausted. Under those conditions humor and a good attitude makes a good situation bearable and you just move on.

When I get to the hotel I found out that the hotel attendant also has a bad back. Throughout my stay in Amsterdam it seems I always managed to find people or taxi drivers with bad backs. Again, it became really funny after a while.

In talking to the airline I came to find out a shipment of some sort of lubricant was ruptured in the cargo area and, wouldn't you know it, all of my cases were located right next to it. They apologized and bumped me to first class for the trip back. Good deal.

It's funny how we don't remember the museum trips or the city tour but stories such as this one remain etched into your mind and actually become the kinds of stories you smile about when you remember and tell them.

Also, every time I think "CEO" I remember myself covered in yellow slime and sweat.