The Trip

To start with a cliché: I’m not fond of goodbyes, the uncertainty about who hugs whom first, how long to ignore the tears just to keep your own in control and inside your face, the semi forced jokes to add some lightness, the arguments and promises to make it hurt less. A goodbye is a goodbye, it’s up to you and those you say goodbye to to cancel it out by returning/connecting again. Until then, you walk away with that little light cloud in your chest, untethered.

Good thing that Icelandic Air delayed it’s flight for about an hour, so I could have some extra time at the gate (in the second paragraph, add sarcasm). Inspired by the Dutch Railways, no-one gave us any reason for the delay, only sharing -after being asked- that it “wouldn’t be long, now”. But I shouldn’t worry about my transfer, planes from the same company usually wait for each other (add a visual of two friendly planes wing-nudging each other before taking off in different directions).

I didn’t need to worry about my transfer, but I did worry about my passport. The Icelandic border control man wasn’t fond of my stamp-free kiwi passport, scolding me that no-one could discover where I came from without any stamps (port of entry, stay in European countries). After some mutterings from him that could have been Icelandic or his stomach acting up, I was still allowed through.

To a flight with slow stewards and overheating personal screens. Fine, I’ll entertain myself the old fashioned way and read. Pros of flying with Icelandic Air: prize, clean, small airport, neat stop in the middle of your trip. Cons: only sodas are free on board, and elbowing stewards don’t apologize. I’m a pro, just an impatient one. As soon as you get out of the plane and off the airport, you can forget about the flight. At the least I can say that I finally watched Me, Earl and the Dying Girl and Chef. Don’t bother with the second one: it will make you slightly hungry and very frustrated by dumb people you’re supposed to root for.


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