I made it to Sweden! I must say, Icelandic Air is lovely to fly on, even if you’re sitting next to somebody who looks like they might head the Swedish mafia, and who may have eaten a few rugby players for lunch. When he went to sleep, he didn’t really lean back, he just sort of settled his neck down further into his rotund (though not unmuscular) torso. On the plus side, he took his shoes off to be more comfortable (and who wouldn’t want to be comfortable on an airplane!?), so I’m pretty sure I got to experience what rotting herring smells like, for all six long (and stinky) hours. To his credit, he was wearing a very nice sweater. To add insult to injury, his friend (who was both substantially smaller but also might have been a Swedish male supermodel) was sitting in the row just behind us. Some people just have all the luck.
They have poetry written all over the walls of the airport in Reykjavik where I had a stopover – so lovely! I almost bought a (faux) fur hat in one of the Icelandic clothing stores, but when I realized that the music they were playing was “Hotel California” I got a little freaked out that the universe was trying to speak to me so I went back to the gate to wait for my flight to Stockholm.
Now I kinda wish I’d bought that hat.