This time we only had a less than two-hour layover in Iceland. We had a quick snack, bought some duty free booze, and decided to spend our remaining half hour relaxing in one of the nice lounges near our gate. Well, "relaxing" quickly turned into all three of us falling the fuck asleep. We awoke to the sound of our final boarding call over the loudspeaker.
Here's another one. This one's my pensive and artsy "I'm acting like the camera's not there, but clearly I must know it is because I'm the one who took the picture" picture. Who's more emo than me? Motherfuck this photo diary nonsense, I'm gonna get me a LiveJournal. (ps - look at the two cutey patooties passed out next to me like little sleeping lambs. Teeheehee.)
(Update: Ok, in Grant's
defense I have to post something from an email he just sent clarifying
why he was worried about the whole plane thing. Turns out he
wasn't worried that I'd be mistaken for a a terrorist,
he was worried that they were going to think I was
a spy. In
his email he included a link to story on the
BBC
news website about 14 "planespotters," people that
take pictures of airplanes as a hobby, that were
just convicted
of "espionage" after being arrested for taking pictures
of Greek military planes during an airshow there. Ka-ka-kuh-razy!
Good
looking out, Grizza. Sorry.)
...and boarded our Athens-bound plane. By the way, as we were walking across the tarmac and I was taking out my camera to take this pic - Here's Grant's one-sided conversation to me: "Dude, what are you doing? Don't take a picture. Dude, seriously. Put your camera away. They're going to think you're a terrorist, dude. Think about it, who takes pictures of planes up close like this? Terrorists, that's who! You think I'm kidding? I'm not. Hey, stop laughing. What? What? Stop it. STOP LAUGHING. Seriously. Stop, dude. Stop. STOP! Oh, you little bitch. That's fine just keep on taking pictures and laughing. We'll see who laughing when you're arrested for being a SUSPECTED TERRORIST." (Stomps off in a huff). Heheh.
Still totally exhausted, we boarded the plane confident that our three hour flight to London would give us plenty of time to catch up on some sleep before meeting up with Charlene and hitting the town for a night of partying. Little did we know...
No sleep yet. (Oh also: at some point during the flight, the three of us watched one of those in-flight TV shows about "The Blue Lagoon," which is an Icelandic Spa Resort built around a huge geothermal pool. Other than exploring Reykjavik, we didn't have any other plans. After watching the video, we decided the Blue Lagoon looked amazing and that we'd try to fit it into our schedule if possible.
Fatty's big plan was to pop a few Tylenol PM and sleep for the entire flight. But for some reason, he didn't stay asleep. He managed to get, oh, about 25 minutes of sleep before he was awaken by the stewardess who wanted to know what we wanted for dinner.
Our Icelandic stewardess (who didn't really speak English) gave us the choice between Beef Stroganoff and Curry Chicken - We all asked for the Stroganoff but were given this dish (which was neither Stroganoff nor chicken). For about ten minutes I had Chris and Fatty convinced that it was "most likely reindeer meat." Because, you know, "that's mostly what they eat in Iceland." Maybe it was Curry Lamb? We're still not sure. Yay, Mystery Meat!
Shortly thereafter, I headed back to the hotel, packed up, checked out and caught a cab out to Long Beach to make my red eye flight *blech* back home to NYC.
We found our way out of the mall just in time to head back to the hotel, pack up, and get to the airport just in time to catch the red-eye back to Vegas. Here's Tara wishing death upon the blabbermouth in the seat in front of us who didn't stop talking for the first 3 hours of his flight (he only stopped because after awhile I started making the "shhhhh!" noise everytime he'd start to speak. Hehehe).
I wasn't planning on going, but I found cheap tickets online last minute. (Literally, I ended up buying tickets at 4am on Friday morning for a flight at 2pm later that day. What's better than the InterWeb? For seriously.)