Iceland is Nice

If there is anything that Wayne’s World 2 taught us, it was that Iceland is nice. That, and the fact that Drew Barrymore has a very impressive rack. I can’t say much for the country in general, but the airport here in Kefavic seems nice enough. They apparently have free wifi, so that makes them alright people in my book.

So, yeah, we’re on our way to London. This hasn’t really set in, even though we’re most of the way there. I’ve spent the past couple days obsessing over my vague feelings of unpreparedness. Even when I was completely packed and everything on my to-do list was crossed off, I kept feeling like we were going to get to London and Kristian was going to turn to me and say, “what do you mean you didn’t pack any socks!?” Except, you know, I did pack socks. If anything, I packed too many socks. My suitcase is full of socks. But it’s still smaller and lighter than Kristian’s. Don’t think I haven’t already teased him about that one.

Plus, you know, you can buy things like socks and toothbrushes in other countries. At least, this has always been my experience. Perhaps I’ve just been lucky.

I keep telling myself that we have our e-tickets (a godsend for people like me who are prone to losing things), our passports, some money and our credit cards. I just keep telling myself that these are the only things that you really need to travel. Everything else just helps you to look nice and not be too stinky. And, even then, I’m sure that there is deodorant available in the UK. And we will be spending some time in Paris, so you can insert any “haha French people don’t bath and are vaguely smelly” type joke that you’d like in here. I happen to like the French and their delicious wine and cheese. So I will not be stooping to that level. So, yes, fretting about deodorant would be somewhat silly.

But, fretting is what I do best. So, I’ll probably feel vaguely anxious until we land in London and I realize that I have everything that I need and I have a good laugh at how silly I’ve been. Or, until we arrive in London and Kristian turns to be and exclaims that he can’t believe that I left some critical item at home. Whichever one comes first.

Speaking of fretting, I’ve learned the hard way that is an exceedingly bad (you know, the opposite of good) to spend two days watching a tv show that’s predicated around a giant plane crash just before flying internationally. Especially when you are an anxious flyer to begin with. And prone to fretting in general.

Not that I mind the fact that we are no longer the only couple in America that isn’t horribly addicted to Lost… it’s just that I’m already prone to grabbing my armrest and/or Kristian every single time the plane hits any sort of turbulence. The last thing I needed as our plane was shaking like a polaroid picture (hey: 2003 called… they want their song back), was the mental image of our plane ending up on a beach and us being attacked by polar bears. Then I reminded myself that I had an interesting enough back-story to survive the crash and that it might not be so bad to spend a couple of months hanging out on a tropical island eating bananas and ogling all of the hot, shirtless castaways. And, you know, hopefully not getting eaten by polar bears.

So, there you have it, the insane granola bar fueled ramblings of a woman who is not actually going to bed tonight. We’ll be in London in about 4 hours and I hope to spend our first afternoon there napping. I might blog on a semi-regular basis this week, seeing as how I will actually be doing things and going places and (theoretically) this will give me something to write about. Or, I might decide that, hey, we’re on vacation so screw the intarwebnets. In which case, I’ll see y’all when I get home.

If we don’t get eaten by polar bears.