Andrew was worried about getting to the airport on time what with potential rush hour traffic – Iceland as an entire country has 1/6th the population of Portland, I am pretty sure they don’t have rush hour unless sheep are crossing the road. And speaking of sheep that was another hazard that might delay us. As well as snow, or lava – he was prepared for both. Which is why we got up at 5:45 for a 9:50 flight at an airport that was 40 minutes away. And when I say “we got up” I mean I woke up and Andrew got up from almost no sleep as he was too busy worrying about how to navigate the morning apocalypse on the way to the airport.

With gassing up, dropping off the rental car, scooting across the parking lot to the airport on foot, going through Delta’s ticket counter line and a weird quiz about packing (who packed your bag? when did you pack it? where did you pack it? what was on TV at the time you packed? what were you wearing? For a minute I thought I was on the receiving end of a dirty phone call), exchanging leftover Icelandic monies, finding the departure gates, queuing for tax credit (they give tourists back their tax dollars spent) and walking over to the passport check before our gate, we were at the passport check line at 8AM.

Unfortunately, the passport check line didn’t open until 9 – because the first flight out to the states was not until 9:50(ish). Apparently today was the day when all the older tourists migrate back from Iceland – and sit next to me – so it took a little longer than normal to board the plane.

You know when a Buzzfeed listicle sums you up perfectly, you are probably the cause of your own issues.

This message brought to you by flying next to old people from Iceland to New York. I thought that we’d seen all the geysers in Iceland, but old faithful was sitting next to me on the plane and had to get up for the bathroom every time I dozed off, without fail.

I did get to see Hot Pursuit which was fun. And Dog Day Afternoon which made me cry. The flight attendant also managed to find  a gluten free meal for me instead of the lunch tray they were serving everyone else which seemed to consist of bread served on bread with a side of bread and a wheat cracker. Andrew took one bite of his bread sandwich and pushed it to the side as though it was fish soup.

We landed and went through Global Entry lines while mocking the people waiting for immigration. Then we had to wait for our checked luggage like animals. I don’t really understand why we had to bring our luggage in from one flight to the other – is that more secure than just having the airlines move it? Once our luggage was collected we breezed through customs with no line and a smile – Global Entry is the only way to fly. Even though our layover is half a day it is so nice to not have to wait with people – they try to talk to you… ugh.

Speaking of which, Andrew has the cure for the lack of Karaoke in the airport. It’s called Priority Pass or Player’s Plus or Baller’s Gateway. It comes with one of his credit cards that is super fancy (so fancy that the stripe is on the front of the card and we frequently have to explain to people how to run it). We are currently sitting in a lounge with comfortable seats, speedy wifi, free food, free drinks and barely a person. When I first sat down I was fed grapes by a manservant (or maybe Andrew put a raisin in my mouth when I asked him for some snacks). I could take a nap here if I hadn’t just drank my weight in free cappuccino. At least if I don’t sleep now I should be able to get back on Portland time swiftly.

Or maybe I’ll just live in this lounge, the food is pretty good and I bet they have a conjugal visiting area.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s