We arrived in Amsterdam mid-day. It was Mother's Day. Traveling through the airport I saw there was a box to drop off mail. I went into a bookstore and grabbed a cute postcard.
I figured since I could not call or email my mom to say Happy Mother's Day, I could at least mail her an Amsterdam postcard.
I had to show my boarding pass and passport in order to buy anything, after it was bought I also had to get postage; so it took a while to get that taken care of. After I bought it, our group all went to eat pizza. There I sat and wrote a long message to my mom.
Once my message was written, addressed correctly, and postage applied, I glanced over the postcard proudly.That pride though, quickly turned to shock, as I realized one of the images was of a red light district sex shop. Yes, I was about to send my mom a post card with street window strippers, after just a month before doing a paper on how the red light district was swarming with human trafficking.
Chris was sitting next to me, and looked over as he heard me gasp, breathing in all the air in the room as I did. He spotted it without me saying anything, and laughed out loud, "Aren't you sending that to your mom?"
Chris suggested we could color dresses on the women. When I didn't have any luck, he gave it a try. He did better than I did, but still the ink just rubbed off. In the midst of drawing dresses, Chris pointed out several more inappropriate images on the postcard.
I was mortified,but so glad that I had seen it before I mailed it! I debated throwing it out and getting a new one, but I had sunk about $7 into that small piece of trash.
So instead of throwing it out, I improvised by making my own drawings on the card: