It's been awhile hasen't it, I'm actually just wondering if people are still alive. I assume yes, since I'm sure I'd have heard if anything else were the case. I think the last time I wrote anything the Liberals were still in power. Ahhh those were the days. In the meantime I'm doing well, I hope the same goes for y'all. Work hasen't sucked in going on three weeks now, ever since we got empty. Basically this means that we're slowly emptying out the freight, that you can move around the stockroom without tripping over a pallet of freight. We've been close in the 16 months I've been there, but now we're empty. Gone from having the "worst stockroom East of Montreal" to "best in the district." And we're going to keep it that way. Strange the things that can elicit pride, isn't it?
Just a few short weeks until vacation. Couldn't come at a better time really, this way I'll get a break I so badly need and won't be dreading the return. Have most of it figured out I think. A few days here, a few there, keeping in mind that all plans are subject to change, new plan may not be better than old plan. I sort of regret not going a day earlier, as the Dutch National team is going to play a friendly against Equador in Amsterdam but c'est la vie, I had no idea at the time. Go Oranje is all I can say. I do however get to experience another NAC night (Avondje NAC).
Nothing quite matches the atmosphere of the NAC night. Sure seeing Ajax was loud, it should be considering there was 40000 people there, but that chilly night in Noord Brabant, my first ever professional game, was something else. We rode past the Fujifilm Stadion everyday, and it seemed a nice building. As stadiums went pretty attractive vaguely ressembling a miniature castle or fortress. The funny things about stadiums though, during the day at least, is that they always seem deserted. Tonight we knew there was something different. Riding up the bike paths there was legitimate traffic, the closer we got the more jammed it became until we had to walk our bikes, finally locking them to a nearby tree and hoping a thief wouldn't damage the tree to get it. Ahead of us the team shield on the side of the stadium was lit up and everyone was heading toward this beacon. Couples walking hand in hand, teens roughhousing, old timers who could probably recite every past glory, kids with their dads, all wearing a black and yellow scarf. With the pitch lights cutting through the night, you could almost see the electricity in the air reflected in the crowds frosty breath. The home stands, about 15000, were packed, with everyone chanting, signing, waving banners. Yes it was loud and frenzied, and yes it was cramped but strangely comfortable. Yet inspite, or maybe because of, all of this it was intimate. We had a great view of the pitch and we weren't all that close. We could hear the sounds of the ball and players cut through the air. Tonight it didn't matter that we had no idea what the crowd was chanting. Tonight it didn't matter that we were strangers in a strange land. Tonight we were rats.
Yep, it was a cold night in early March, and now I'm going back. I wouldn't have it any other way.