I love emerging in a brand new world, far from home, senses in overdrive. But getting there...ugh. Airports, planes, shuttles, layovers—it’s like this twisted conspiracy, hellbent on crushing any semblance of joy out of the experience. At least with someone by your side you can share the burden...traveling alone is an altogether different beast.
I can’t check-in online—Wow Air is having problems apparently. So queue the queue...then security, then waiting, then sitting and waiting, then liftoff—45 minutes late. In Keflavik we wait again...then a crowded shuttle, then sitting and waiting, then flying. The guy next to me has a nasty cold and I try like mad to avoid the germs. Pointless when you’re crushed together in the same test tube for two hours.
We land at Gatwick in the morning.
The sun is out and the border agent is extremely nice—genuinely.
The young and old Queens sure do look lovely and surreal on that giant mural.