The one with the Sex Museum ticket mishap, a beltless airport dash, and the last stroopwafel goodbye 🇳🇱✈️
AMSTERDAM – Flying Home
And just like that – poof! – our whirlwind Amsterdam adventure comes to an end. One minute we’re dodging bicycles like pros (or not), the next we’re being herded like sheep through airport security while trying to remember where we put our dignity (and passport).
Let’s just say, this trip had it all: fake tulips, tantrums (mainly over Google Maps), unexpected nudity (not ours, thankfully), stroopwafels for breakfast, and more awkward moments than a school disco. A perfect recipe for an Adventure Geek classic.
👩👧 Mother-Daughter Bonding, Amsterdam Style
This morning, Rachel and I decided to spend some quality time together. You know, the kind of heartfelt bonding you’d expect from a wholesome European getaway. So naturally, we went to… the Sex Museum.
In hindsight, it may not be the most conventional choice for a mother-daughter outing. We could’ve gone for a canal-side coffee or admired the Van Gogh Museum. But no, we chose oversized willy-shaped sculptures and Victorian erotica. Because when in Amsterdam, right?
Honestly, we spent most of the visit alternating between wide-eyed horror and uncontrollable giggles. Rachel kept saying, “Don’t look at me!” and I was like, “You brought us here!” We left with sore cheeks (from laughing!) and a few photos we’ll never show anyone outside of a very secure WhatsApp group.
🌹Roses & Thorns 🌵 – An AG Tradition
Last night at our farewell dinner, we kept up our Adventure Geek tradition of Roses and Thorns.
Roses included:
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The hilariously wobbly bike tour (shout-out to those who made it through without meeting the pavement).
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The questionable boat captain looked suspiciously like he’d been enjoying Amsterdam’s other “herbs.”
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All the cheese, carbs, and culture we could fit into our stretchy trousers.
Thorns were more character-building, let’s say:
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Lost luggage.
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Sleep-deprived zombie mornings.
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That moment when someone (naming no names) tried to pay for chips with a train ticket.
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And of course, the daily game of “Avoid the Bikes of Doom.”
Still, even the thorns became part of the charm. What’s an AG trip without a bit of chaos?
👮 The Great Airport Security Debacle
Ah yes – airport security. The grand finale.
I shuffle into the queue, smugly thinking I’ve got this. Liquids in a clear bag? Check. Passport to hand? Check. Emotional stability? Questionable.
Then, it begins.
Security Lady: “Boots, please.”
Fine. Off they go into the tray.
Security Lady (now eyeing me like a hawk): “Do you have a belt?”
Ah. Yes. That tiny detail. I remove it, trying not to expose myself to half of Schiphol Airport.
Now I’m barefoot, beltless, and gripping my waistband like a criminal on the run from a laundry mishap. She starts the dreaded pat-down, and I feel something in my back pocket.
Security Lady (deadpan): “What’s that?”
I reach back confidently. “It’s my rail card!” I declare…
Except it’s not.
It’s the Sex Museum ticket.
Of course it is.
She raises a perfectly judgmental eyebrow as I babble about how I thought it was my rail card and how it was a cultural experience, I swear. She doesn’t say a word. Just smirks and waves me through, probably planning to tell her colleagues in the break room.
🎬 That’s a Wrap!
And so, we board the plane, some of us already asleep before takeoff, others still chewing stroopwafels like emotional support snacks, hearts full, legs tired, and phones packed with blurry photos and memories that’ll last a lifetime.
Amsterdam, you were wild, weird, and wonderful.
I’ll definitely be back (maybe with less museum-based trauma next time).
Thanks for following along on this delightfully daft Dutch adventure! 🚲💙🇳🇱