The Ducks Have Landed!

The hotel's lagoon

Why are we ducks, specifically Barrow’s Goldeneyes this morning? It’s rainy and cold here in Grindavik, Iceland. Also too, the sun’s not out yet. It's a good day if you're an Icelandic duck. Maybe.

Our flight landed at 4:30AM. We stumbled our way through the Duty Free to pick up Pinot and Omnom Chocolate for the hotel room. Why? We like to plan ahead and what good’s a lovely hotel with a wondrous geo-thermal spa without red wine and dark chocolate? From there we hit the bus kiosk. First one out didn’t leave for another two hours. *groan* We caught a cab which we were told wasn’t all that much more expensive than the bus. Eh, it was but it was worth it.

It did feel weird, eerie, to be traveling down these skinny dark, foreign, wet roads with nothing in view except the occasional Bónus and car mechanic’s shop. Were we really headed to the hotel or was this the first scene out of an upcoming horror movie? Would the pleasant yet remote cabbie decide to dump us in the middle of the rain soaked, windy, freezing lava fields?

Yes, my imagination was in high fucking gear. Why Jen puts up with me's a real mystery.
In any case, here we are, chillin’ in cozy chairs, our feet up, gazing out at the lagoon, waiting for the day manager to get in, so’s we can MAYBE check in early. Even if we can’t, the nice desk dude said we can use the hotel’s lagoon. OR we can leave our bags here and take the 10 o’clock bus into Reykjavik, do our shopping and gallery hopping today instead of domani.

I’m wondering, given that Reykjavik’s just four hours ahead of Boston, why not have later flights? That is, one that gets into Iceland at a decent hour when people are about, restaurants are open and, ya know, the sun’s bleedin' up. Just a wee, kvetchy thought there.

Now, let’s talk about that flight of ours though. We flew WOW because they had the best deal. Yes, they were the cheapest and, boyhowdy, we got what we paid for. Not only was my seat assignment fucked up (aisle instead of window), the damn rows only had adequate leg room if your mother chain smoked Benson and Hedges while preggers. That and the heat was mega cranked. It was beyond warm and I had the distinct wish to strip down to my skivvies (but I employed restraint and decorum and did not – see, I can so be civilized!). And THEN the stewardess came around to offer bevs,  I requested a glass of water and was charged THREE dollars for it!

So then, me and my rampant claustrophobia were tussling. I was fuming over paying three smackaroonies for H2O. AND the stewardesses didn’t glide up and down the aisle. Oh no, they clomped, they stamped, they had the heaviest footfall around. Outside of sumo wrestler team locker room anyway. And then I noticed the advert on the seat back in front of me: “Fancy a WOW moment while in Reykjavik…”

And what exactly would that entail? Being placed in a super-heated, half-size fridge box for six hours without complimentary water? Yeah, quite possibly.

Now that we know what we’re in for, we’ll buy bottled water before boarding for the trip home AND we’ll pack away our sweaters and scarves. Possibly we’ll also see about detaching our legs and putting them in the overhead.

I only mention it but Jet Blue has totally spoiled me. After last night’s debacle, I’m tempted to plan my next holiday based on their destination map.