Source: adt.arcanum.com

Automatic translation: On the all-glass moving corridor of Amsterdam's Schiphol airport, I single-mindedly walked towards gate sixteen, from where the MALÉV plane departed back to Budapest. Halfway out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a well-dressed, tall gentleman wearing an impeccable quality dark gray suit, dark blue tie, and with his head buried in the latest issue of the Financial Times, he disappeared in the direction of the overseas flights. "This can't be!" , I said to myself, but at the same time the dormant reporter in me woke up, so it didn't take a minute and I was in the waiting room. (read more)

Source: adt.arcanum.com