sharing fannish enthusiasm

 Hello, DW!  

Still alive.  

The most exciting thing this year was we went on a real vacation back to Iceland.  Getting there and back were the most annoying parts, but at least we had all our belongings, unlike last time.  We read Icelandair's measurement/weight requirements and had luggage that we could carry onto the plane.  Why we bothered to be so rigorous escaped me, when I saw what others were shoving into the overhead bins.

Those of us who live in the middle of nowhere don't generally keep up with things like how many runways SFO has open.  For the record, the airport is down one for repairs.  That made us late to take off.  We got to PDX (Portland) with minutes to spare for our connection.  I am too old and too out of shape to sprint through an airport.  We skidded around the corner just in time to hear our names announced and see the vultures hoping to get onto the flight shuffle forward.  Nope!  We made it.  Barely.  We arrived just after 6AM, somehow managed to get our jet-lagged selves onto the shuttle and to the big bus transfer station...where I dropped my passport.  Didn't notice that until we got to the hotel.  Luckily, Icelanders are more honest than our lot.  The nice people had my passport in safe keeping. 

The next problem was health.  The WBH came down with a cold by dinner.  Apparently, he liked that cold so much that he shared it with me.  As colds go, this wasn't that bad, but still....  He timed his cold's onset perfectly, as we were still in Reykjavik, but mine came on during a holiday several days later.  I will now go back to packing Dayquil and Nyquil.  

However, outside of the colds, Iceland was wonderful.  The WBH had plotted our trip for birding.  Instead of the two-week (not long enough, trust me) driving tour of the periphery, he focused on particularly birdy places, and we used their very nice internal air routes.  I haven't flown in a propeller jet since the seventies.  In short: lots of birds, less driving, way too much excellent food.  

Getting home was not fun.  On the morning of our departure, there was a text that had arrived at 5AM.  Flight cancelled.  Less than an hour later, meaning about the time I was mainlining coffee in preparation of some face-to-face unpleasantries at the airport, there was a follow-on text with our new itinerary.  Our new halfway point was Denver, which we would endure for about eight hours.  Plus side: easy hop from KEF to DEN, got our Global Entry interview with a charming TSA agent (really!), and there was a brew pub with a decent IPA (Iceland leans heavily toward lagers).  The downside was hours and hours of time to kill.  I don't usually nap, so while himself tried to grab some sleep, I people-watched.

DEN has very loud Muzak.  I gather time has stood still in Colorado, as the newest song was from the mid-eighties.  The music was the usual pablum.  Pop, more pop, some "lite" rock, and showtunes.  When "The One that You Want" from Grease came on, people joined in on the chorus.  Seriously.  A little bit later, some other song prompted the woman next to me to dance.  Is it in the water?

We touched down in SFO around midnight, picked up the car within a half hour, and then it was time to drive three-plus hours home.  We stopped to get gas, and I guess that's when I dropped my passport.  Bye bye, passport.  I didn't realize it was missing until we were home and I was into the laundry phase of the trip.  

Pro tip: don't lose your passport.  If you do, I hope you have an old copy around.  Kudos to one of our local post offices for making a horrible experience into something merely awful.  There are no trips planned for the immediate future, darn it.  I can wait.  Now, do I have to reapply for the Global Entry?