July 22nd or maybe July 23rd (I have no idea what time it is), 2009
I slept for three hours last night, and I was feeling frustrated beyond belief about my inability to find a comfortable position on this six hour and twenty minute flight, conveniently equipped with screaming children at each end of the aircraft. Then I remembered: Holy crap! I'm on my way to Iceland for the day!
The instant boost of excitement caused by that single thought elicited enough motivation for me to sit myself upright, take a breath, ignore the fact that my full bladder is restricted by two sleeping passengers, and glance out the window. The glance turned into a wide-eyed gaping stare as my mind processed the view from my miniature window. I was soaring above a beautiful, pristine, snow-capped mountain range.
Snow was blanketed as far as I could see. I couldn't estimate the grandeur of the mountains, but it appeared as if we were so close that we could have been approaching a landing strip. Then the snow flattened out in the view from the bottom third of my tiny clear oval, and I saw blue. The coastline was speckled with jagged white shapes. I thought that if I could peer close enough, I'd have been able to see that lone polar bear who sits on a tiny ice chunk doomed by the progression of global warming.
I have no idea what that land mass is. Could it be Greenland? Has that much time passed on this flight? I have no clue.
What I do know is that this has to be a sign. I am about to encounter a plethora of exciting new sights; cities with twisted bloody histories, incredible mountain ranges, unfamiliar languages spoken next to each ear, picturesque villages, overwhelming architectural brilliance, delicious food, and the adventure of a lifetime. Well, at least it will be one of my MANY lifetime adventures.