Iceland - Part Two

THE FLIGHT FROM HELL

There I was - waiting in line to board the plane next to an annoying 22 year old who was saying

"All people should travel. Your life doesn't mean much without seeing the world. I can't imagine how people can live such small lives..."

Now, I was feeling a little loose lipped, as they say, and I shot back

"Well, *friend*, most people aren't from Connecticut with rich parents who paid for college and are now sending Junior around the globe."

Which was weird because up until that point we had been having a perfectly pleasant interaction. But I was tired of his shit.

We part ways (he was flying first class: "a necessary luxury") and I go back with the rabble. I find my aisle seat next to two stunning Icelandic women. All ethereal and shit. With a baby. Mom looks at me and sweetly says:

"Do you think you could see if they have an open seat for you - I really want to to let my baby sleep in that seat."

"You there, Small Cantankerous Woman - get out of that seat"


Which, I mean, of course I would switch seats. I'm a mom and really - can you say no? To a baby? (After the whole ordeal, I fantasized about having said "No!" and then attempting small-talk. And then asking her to move her arm off the arm rest. At the time, though, I felt all magnanimous. I have done a good deed - surely one will be returned to me shortly.)

I move on back and of course, I get the window seat next to two old people. Two old Icelanders who want to sleep and are pretty much already catatonic. And I have to pee already. Damn you Parting-Margarita.

Lift off! I am a nervous flyer. A couple steps below screaming "We are all going to die! Hail Mary! In the name of the father!" every time we hit turbulence. I specifically got the aisle seat to avoid having to stare death in the face for 5 hours straight.

The Carry On Incident.

Sometimes, I have a point (that doesn't exist) to prove. Like my luggage. My friend tells me "Dude, don't check any bags - just take carry on". Sage advice. I get it into my head that I am going to take the smallest carry on possible. And I do. Then I cram it to bursting (weighed 25 pounds and on a shoulder strap - that's heavy. Yeah, no wheels! What an asshole. Who doesn't get wheels?) My husband says "Take the other big one. It'll fit in the overhead. You don't want to lug that stupid thing around."

Which made me hell-bent on using the stupid one.

So, because I am the last to be seated - there's no room in the overhead. I have to smash my over sized duffel bag under the seat in front of me. It doesn't fit. I was contorted in a most uncomfortable position, with my knees bent up to my eyes the entire time.
There are a whole bunch of...wrong things...going on here.


And the Old People

As soon as the bell that lets you know it is OK to go pee dings, I stand up and am all Polite Passenger about schooching by. The Old Lady responds with

"Schrick? Ees cos? Preetnitz!"

Which in any language is translated into:

"Really? Already? We just left! I guess I'll get up."

Bitch.

They decide they need to pee too and follow me back. I come back to my seat and as I am moving on by, I knock the Old Man's coat off the hook on the seat in front of him. Being a decent sort, I go retrieve the article and am in the process of hanging it back up when Grandma SlowDeath just happens to crane her Evil Ostrich Head into the row and says:


"Gorch?! Psk tenchs?! Gorch!?"


Dammit.

So, I make the international symbol for "I am not a thief!": Shoulders shrugged up high with my palms up and an innocent/surprised look on my face.

"No, no gorch! I was hanging it back up, it fell down. You know...down?"

She isn't buying it and calls her husband over who then begins to dramatically search through all his pockets.

Unbelievable.

It all checks out and instead of apologizing they just humph at me and ignore me the rest of the trip. My knees are still pressing into my eye sockets at this point.

Finally - we touch down! I get a taxi to the hotel with an awesome old man who kept saying "Coca-Cola!!!" I smile politely each time but am at a loss as neither one of us is drinking soda of any kind. I then ask what time the sun comes up and he points to the clock and says "Shleepen! *SNORRK*". It didn't answer my question but it did make me laugh and hell, at this point, I was just glad he wasn't searching his pockets and eyeing me suspiciously. A few more Sheelpen - Snorrk's later I get to the hotel. Which was divine. I met my friend there and told her my story. She agreed it sucked and then told me to be glad I wasn't peed on.

What?

Yep, some crazy guy threatened to pee on her during her flight. That is so like her though - trying to outdo my troubles by getting pee-threats from a crazy person.

Jerk.