Leaving for Iceland

Raleigh Airport -- Unlike the start of my trip to Australia, the start of my trip to Iceland started off without a hitch. That is, until I was standing at the gate, waiting to board, people watching and day dreaming. Did they call my name? I knew they were boarding passengers but they usually board sections and my section hadn't been called. So I returned to my reverie. OK, that definitely was my name over the loud speaker. The gate keeper to access the plane looked at me in total non-amusement and said, "What are you waiting for?". I thought to myself, "A bigger plane." I sheepishly, moved quickly down the runway. I hate being the last one to board!!

It's my entire friend's fault. When she dropped me off at the airport, she said to me, "Have a wonderful time, no, have a bizarre time." And then proceeded to laugh at herself. I agreed with the notion, yet not an hour later I was cursing her. My brain was fuzzy, I nearly missed my flight out of Raleigh which was beginning to feel like Kansas and I like Dorothy. I have the red shoes, but the heel kick is not returning me to OZ.

I arrived at JFK, where I had a 6 hour layover. I caught the AirTrain to Terminal 7 thinking that I could get my boarding pass, go through security and hang out in the departure lounge. But that would have been way to easy on a girl with a bizarre curse hanging over her head. Icelandic Air does not have early check-in. Apparently I needed to go to Terminal 4 which is the main terminal that has bars, food, and off course duty free shopping. Harrumph.

This would not be so bad if it wasn't for dealing with the AirTrain. The AirTrain relies on powers of deduction which I don't have. Bewildered I stand once again at the train station. I wonder if the approaching train goes to Terminal 4. I overheared that it goes to such and such station. OK, not mine. But how did they know? I am panicked. What am I missing? Once again I looked over the information map. Nope, that still didn't help. I wished for my GPS. I have travelled the London Underground, I have used the Toronto subway, I have navigated the world and yet the AirTrain is beyond me. Another AirTrain squealed up and I prayed (and I am not religious) for a hint from the God of Trains. Scarily, the voice of the God boomed around me and said that it was going to Terminal 1. Well that helps. Not. This mere mortal needs more information. How about a map with twinkling lights showing the train's trail? Treat me like a child, please, please.

I look around in embarrassment, feeling as though I am the only one that is just not getting it. I notice other frustrated passengers. First they get on the train, ask other passengers if the train is going to the destination that they want, and then they get off the train; always with an embarrassed laugh as though they are at fault. Finally, I just decide to jump on the metallic beast and leave destiny to the God. I stand at the front of the beast, hand gripping the rail, as it lurches forward. Where I go, I don't know. I am an expert traveler, but at that moment I am a novice. Somehow, the God of Trains has heard my plea and the beast reaches my destination.

And much, much later, after a Cosmopolitan or two I am on my way to a destination that was never on my "kick the bucket" list -- Iceland.