Press Tour: From Amsterdam to Paris

It was a beautiful Monday morning in Amsterdam. It was an early morning and as I was walking to the train station to catch the train to the airport I could hear the birds reflecting the turmoil inside my head with their chaotic but sweet morning serenade. I bought my ticket and nearly took the wrong train because of my sleepiness. I didn't feel comfortable dragging a thirty kg suitcase with me to the airport but alas there was no choice, the only machine in the entire world that had the product of my company running and functioning on it was in this inconspicuous suitcase. As if the suitcase wasn't enough I also had a huge backpack full of wires, gadgets and a laptop with me. I was swearing and cursing at my boss inside my head, but I had to continue, the future of the company lay in my hands. Meanwhile I reached the electronic check in poles of KLM, I must emphasize how much I love Holland for it's clarity and friendly people. I checked in and dropped the inconspicuous suitcase off at the friendly lady sitting behind the Air France counter. I was scared and concerned, I had no idea if the suitcase would get by security let alone make it through the trip. I had seen the luggage personnel violently throw suitcases in and out of planes before. Maybe if I was lucky they couldn't comfortably throw the suitcase because of its weight. As these thoughts ricochet through my head I reached security, after removing every bit of metal I had on me I went through the gates. It didn't beep.... there was something fishy going on. I always beep. Perhaps it was my lucky day, as I was walking towards my gate a friendly young woman smiled at me and greeted me. She was a salesperson for Biotherme at the duty free shop in Schiphol. I smiled and greeted her, in an instant my vanity struck: I was going to be interviewed and my face was going to be all across the internet! This meant that after traveling five countries in four days I would probably look like shit by the time the interviews where going to be recorded...
I walked out of the duty free shop having bought a revitalizing mask, a moisturizer and a genius little cooling gel in the form of a roller to get rid of the dark spots underneath my eyes. I wasn't going to sleep much so that last one was a necessity.

I boarded and the plane took off, always look around you to see where the nearest emergency exit is. I have this little ritual I do right before take off that ensures my sub consciousness is aware of the emergency procedure if something goes wrong. It never has gone wrong and I hope it never will, but you never know. Twenty minutes pass and the plane lands, I had an interesting conversation with a businessman that worked for a company that constructed oil rigs. He was nice enough to point out the fact that people in France took some time to get used to and that people in Paris were just generally rude. With this in mind I picked up my luggage and moved out of the arrivals section to meet my contacts. We met up and took a cab to the center of Paris. Our contact for the Parisian press was waiting for us in a sweet looking art nouveau building, the kind of building that has an excessive amount of bends and curves and has the most flowery wall paper known to man. After a short introduction we head out in the blistering thirty degrees heat for a ten minute walk through the streets of Paris. Mind you I'm wearing a leather coat with long jeans and carrying a thirty kg suitcase around with me across the cracked and irregular pavement of Paris. We arrive at the first press presentation I was about to give in my life, I didn't feel anything I just wanted air conditioning and a drink.
A young man introduces himself and leads us to the elevators. We get out on the fourth floor of this seventies style French building, the kind of architecture that reminds you of cheap hotels on the Spanish costas.

Everything goes blank, I'm staring at a desk with a small screen and an AZERTY keyboard. I ask the young man if he doesn't have anything bigger for me to show the product on. He replies with a humble, "Zis iz the biggest screen we got". I look around and decide to unpack the suitcase, this was the moment of truth: did the computer survive the plane trip or not?

Everything was plugged in, I said a short prayer and turned the computer on. It worked.....
I sat down and remembered the things I rehearsed with my dear boss and colleague Swen, it was hot in the room but I was as cool as ice. The presentation took off from the moment I opened my mouth, this was a great product and it only needed a great representative to showcase it.

After giving an amazing presentation which turned a skeptic audience into comrades that understood the product and felt the troubles and appreciation of doing this amazing project we went off to have lunch. Lunch in France is not a joke, it's a three course meal. It was the first time I had ostrich steak, the taste was great but little did I know that this was the last decent meal I would eat in the days to come.

After lunch I presented the product again but this time to other journalists. They loved it, even so much that a follow up interview was requested immediately after the presentation was over. I was on fire and the weather wasn't the only catalyst. It felt good presenting something that so many people had worked on so hard, I owed this to them, I needed to present us all with the quality we deserved...