Travel went off without a hitch, and in fact a few bonuses as well. Overbooking the flight led to my unwieldy carry-on being checked as baggage for free and I flew through customs and managed to catch the earlier bus to Oxford, which meant I arrived nearly two hours ahead of schedule. Huzzah!
Fun times were had in the Reykjavik airport. Their restrooms, for starters, look like futuristic labyrinths, or perhaps the Department of Mysteries as designed by IKEA. Slick white walls concealing slick white doors that seal seamlessly closed combined with shiny white ceilings and smooth white floors to near-blinding effect. The only way you could tell there were stalls were the small metallic handles intermittently punctuating the surfaces. And the halls between them curved around, twisting until you had no idea which way was up. Each stall was its own complete washroom -- toilet, sink, dryer, mirror, everything. And they sealed completely shut; no gaps between the floor and the walls. The sink hardware was a combination faucet and hand dryer. And yep, I took a photo.
Wave your hands under the main tube for water. Wave them under the side tubes for high-speed drying.
I then proceeded to buy whiskey at 6:30 in the morning (a gift I owe a friend), trying to convert Icelandic kroner to euros to dollars in my head on precisely four hours of sleep in the past 28 (because no one, even with the best intentions, sleeps the night before a transatlantic move).
Third and last, I now understand why the Doctor craved fish fingers in custard after his eleventh regeneration. By 6:45 am Iceland time, my brain was so fried that I had a sandwich of roast beef, brown mustard, sweet pickles, and soggy French onions for breakfast and thought that the only thing that could possibly make it a more satisfying meal was if I could wash it down with some tapioca pudding.
Doctor Who, Season 5, Episode 1, "The Eleventh Hour"
"Box falls out of the sky, man falls out of a box, man eats fish custard."
No comments:
Post a Comment