The Airportline: Observations

I've been around flying and breaking things, and the snow and cold just won't leave Amsterdam, it refuses, it clings on the streets, covers the canals with ice, throws nails against our cheeks and paints our jackets with snow. And there is not much left to do than keep on moving, pull down our hats, put our scarfs on tighter and just face a reality that has no interest in giving us a helping hand. Airportline is past frustration, for now. Instead we make fun of the snow, fly over it, laugh at it, smile in the face its petty tries to put us down, to make us cave. 'Det är inte hur man har det, det är hur man tar det'. Put that in a Swedish/English translation program.