So here I am. On a plane. Crossing the Atlantic. Tessa is sitting behind me, and we plan to pass notes and food to each other over the next five and a half hours.
I already have a few interesting stories.
Our checkin went smoothly. Almost. When we asked for plastic bags for the backpacks we got a negatory response. The conversation went something like this:
"Oh, well the wrapping station is in Terminal 4."
"But we arent going to Terminal 4, this is 7. So you have no bags here? At all?"
"Why do you need one? You can check them just like that."
"We kind of have a bunch of things strapped to the outside!"
"Oh, well, we don't usually give them out..."
So we used our womanly charm on the poor young Icelandic dude. (We gave him seriously pissed off looks of desperation.)
...let me check in the back though."
He comes back five minutes later claiming he found the LAST TWO they had. Uhhhh thanks, but don't keep lying to us. So all worked out! That was a relief.
We learned about Saga class while in the airport. And now have come to quietly resent it. Especially when we passed the Saga class seats on the front of the plane. The nice, comfy couches up there.
And the KEF airport (near Reykjavik) is apparently a 24 hour airport, flights arriving all night, so it won't be creepy dead in there, and we won't be alone. Also, we were told that yes, it will indeed be daylight out the entire night (12am-8am we will be there) so that'll be interesting.
This'll probably post once we are in London because there isn't free wifi in KEF airport. But believe me, I will not continue to be this...resilient? in posting every day.
Bye for now!
Somewhere over the Atlantic: