Tuesday, October 15
Two more people came in at some point after i'd fallen asleep. I don't think i'd been sleeping long. They struggled to figure out which beds were theirs. One of them said, "I don't know which bed is number one," and part of me wanted to tell her that it was the one above me, but also...mostly asleep, can't move. I lost consciousness before they got their issue resolved. I don't even know whether a person ended up sleeping above me last night or not.
I'd set an alarm for 7:00. Turned out everyone else in the room had, also. Was kind of fun hearing all the alarms go off at once, then in rounds as we all hit our snooze buttons. I'd hear someone moving around the room, then the door open and close, then sleep. Then repeat. I don't know if everyone was out before me, but no one else was moving at the same time i was, so i could've been one of those cycles to someone.
All i really needed to do was get dressed, grab my bag, and go. I left my things in the room while i went to the bathroom, though, and then i decided to do a quick check of the kitchen. The clerk had mentioned that there were some free prepackaged pastries and some fresh fruit available to take, so i figured i may as well.
The kitchen is very interesting. I just checked, and unfortunately i did not get any photos or video of it. I know there's a couple on Hostelworld though, so i'll steal those for my own purposes, but i don't feel like they give a proper sense of the geography of the room.
It's pretty small, for a commissary. One wall is entirely covered in old Bingo cards. There's a strange clown in one corner. Other decorations with no apparent theme dot the room. I should've taken a video, but i was worried that people would be uncomfortable with that, since it was not a large room and it was quite occupied. I honestly don't know what the line is for that sort of thing, sometimes i just film rooms with people in them, other times i feel like i shouldn't. Maybe it's just vibes.
Anyway, you could film either a quirky family comedy about a jovial eccentric in this hostel, or a dark slasher film/survival horror, and not have to change the set dressing in any way. The way they've lit the place does suggest the latter, though.
I grabbed one of those pastries, which was...okay, and planned to grab an apple once i'd finished it, but somehow forgot?? Remembered to fill my water bottles, though.
Sebastian was digging through his locker when i went back into the room.
"Well, it was nice to meet you, however briefly," i said.
"Likewise," he responded, shaking my hand again.
"Good luck on your travels!"
"You too!"
What a pleasant fellow.
Alright. Reykjavik.
Stepping out of the hostel, i considered eating at Aktu Taktu, but as i stepped up to the door and looked inside, i realized that this would be a horrible thing to do to my GI tract first thing in the morning. I don't want to have to shit again until it's on my own personal toilet in my own personal home.
But now that it was daylight out, beyond Aktu Taktu, i could see a huge lake, overlooked by mountains. It was absolutely breathtaking. Idyllic. The perfect view to wake up to. I crossed the street to get closer, and crop construction equipment out of my frame, and took a bunch of photos.
The main thing i need to see here is that Icelandic punk museum, constructed out of an old, underground public restroom. I'd wanted to badly to see it on my first layover, before i realized how far away Keflavik was. It was my main destination. It should've been the very first destination on the trip.
It didn't open until 10. I was out and about already at 8:30.
There were a couple other Atlas Obscura monuments i wanted to hit up. What would be the optimal place to start, here?
It's really nice having an Atlas Obscura app now. The map is much easier to navigate, and shows me other points of interest, because it's getting its data straight from Google. Things like the Lava Show.
What the hell is the Lava Show??
It's a bit of a walk from here. I had found it while scrolling the map north to see what was on the other side of the bay. There's a piece of art over there, but it wouldn't have been worth the walk. But then i saw the Lava Show. The Atlas Obscura app still won't let me click on these other locations, so i had to switch over to Maps and find it that way.
This looks absolutely fascinating. They pump lava into a room, and they play with it, right before your very eyes. Like, there's pictures of them lifting lava with long poles and making strings with it.
"The only live lava show in the world!"
Okay. Yeah. Let's do this. It's the equivalent of $40 and it lasts 45-60 minutes, but the reviews are glowing...uh...glow...god damn it, unintentional dad joke, please pay it no mind, move along. The reviews are VERY GOOD, with some people even saying that it "made the trip to Reykjavik worth it" and "i've been saving up to go see this!" and such.
It would be another 35 minute walk, and it opened at 9. That's actually pretty perfect.
I checked the web site quick to see if advance tickets were necessary. i didn't want to have another incident of taking a bunch of time to go someplace out of the way, only to find it booked out through the heat death of the universe.
Looks like the first show is actually at 10, and tickets are still available.
Okay, 10am lava show, 45 to an hour long, 35 minute walk back to the punk museum, if i spend like an hour, hour and a half there, that gets me to 1pm, my flight's at 4:45 and it's an hour and a half bus ride back to the airport. I don't expect security to be too difficult here, even for an international flight. 1pm seems like a reasonable time to start finding my way back to Keflavik. That should still get me there about two hours early.
I didn't buy the ticket online. I guess i didn't feel like i knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that i'd make it in time, and i felt that, since it's a rainy Tuesday, i'd be fine buying a ticket at the door.
Oh yeah, it's raining. Part of that conversation i eavesdropped on between the clerk and the line-cutter last night, he said that the weather should be "pretty nice, no wind" today. She had said, "Oh! I thought i read that it was going to rain!" and he just reiterated the bit about "no wind." So i guess this is what passes for a nice day in Iceland.
It was barely a mist at this point, but the streets showed obvious signs that it had rained harder before i'd gotten up.
I first walked by the punk museum, since it was close and in the right direction, just to be sure i knew where it was, to make things easier later. Time was gonna be tight no matter what i did, and i do. not! want. to miss this!!
It's practically across the street from Icelandic Street Food.
Okay. Good to know.
I could make some reasonable detours from here to see a couple other Atlas Obscura monuments. Just a few things to stop by on the way, since i have plenty of time before that 10am lava show.
I continued down the main street for a bit, then found a place to cross, which brought me to the edge of a lake. A lot of ducks and other birds were enjoying the water. I knelt down and got some good shots of one very trusting duck from within a couple feet, then moved on.
Maps had told me to go to the end of this block, back the direction i'd come but from the other side of the road, and take a left, but i wanted to walk down the cobblestones here, near the water, for a little bit. I was curving in with the lake, surely this little park-ish area would connect to the street i was being asked to turn on anyway.
As i reached the end of the cobblestone park, i found the statue i was looking for. So Maps was trying to send me the long way, again.
This was the Monument to the Faceless Bureaucrat. It's the bottom half of a man in a suit, carrying a briefcase, but the top half is just the unchiseled stone block that the rest was carved from. So he has no upper torso, or more importantly, face. This is to represent all of the "hardworking," "unrecognized" government officials who keep things "running smoothly." A theory has been posited that, there are many Tombs to the Unknown Soldiers around the world, but Iceland has no standing army, so perhaps these politicians are held in that type of esteem, and this is their version of one of those. The artist of the piece has never actually confirmed whether it was meant to be taken seriously, or if it is a satire. My overuse of quotation marks here will make sense when i tell you about the next monument i'll be actively seeking.
Just a few blocks from there, i found a small park with a tall statue in the middle. It's built in a style similar to other European monument parks i've seen during the trip. But again, i couldn't find any sort of a plaque, and Maps was unhelpful, so i still don't know what this one was. It had the feel of a Colonial-era politician or economic leader, though. Probably someone who sucked. A bureaucrat WITH a face.
However, right in the corner of this little park was the statue i was actually looking for.
The Black Cone, The Monument to Civil Disobedience. This is, as the title suggests, a small black cone, driven into the top of a large boulder, cracking it down the middle, to represent the effect protest can have on the workings of government. It's meant to represent all times of public resistance to government rule in Iceland's thousand-year history, but more specifically, it was erected after the 2009-11 financial crisis. The citizens of Iceland thought their government handled the situation very badly, and organized the largest protests the country had ever seen (to that point), forcing their at-the-time right-wing government to resign and call for a new election.
In other words, i loved it.
Across the street from that was another monument i was looking for, a bronze statue of Ingibjörg H. Bjarnason, the first woman to serve in Iceland's parliament, from 1922-27. She was elected just two years after Icelandic women were granted suffrage.
By this point, i felt like i needed to get a move on if i was gonna make it to the show. I stopped intentionally looking for things, but knew i still had time to admire whatever random street art i found. I came to what i thought was a large public gathering space, sunken into the ground a few feet, with some benches around. I didn't go inside, but it looked like a nice public amenity. On a wall high above it was a vibrant mural of a polar bear and a puffin, fighting, but with kung fu.
Some other things i saw as i walked: a statue of a man with his head bowed, a statue of a bull outside of a tapas place painted with the Icelandic flag, a restaurant called "Loving Hut: Vegan World Peace," a sticker for a studio called Indiehouse Films, more glorious mountains across the lake, some kind of a jazz building with an upright bass suspended by cables from the ceiling with a swarm of violins floating around it, a billboard asking if James Bond was Icelandic, and a strange yellow hoop-like structure with no explanation. Also, i don't remember where this fits chronologically, but a bar called "American Bar," with American flags across its front, an eight-foot-tall Uncle Sam statue that has lost an arm, and a logo that includes the slogan, "Life is short, start drinking early." They served something called dirty barbecue, and of course, burgers.
Lava Show was in what appeared to be a bit of an industrial district. I was able to walk in and get a ticket, no problem, just as i'd predicted. Which is nice, because yeah, that was definitely not guaranteed. The show would be starting in ten minutes, would i like a drink from the bar? You can take your drinks into the show.
Surprisingly, i did not, despite the wisdom imparted by American Bar.
The Lava Show was pretty spectacular. It was difficult for me to strike a balance between filming and enjoying the experience with my own eyes, and i spent far too long in the beginning fighting with my R6m2 to get the settings right, eventually just allowing it to go full auto anyway.
The room is a small amphitheater with three rows of seats on the main level, in a U-shape around a half-pipe track that slopes down from a hole in the wall about ten feet high. This track empties into a basin at the bottom, which is filled with black sand. There's a second level looking down at the track; this is the VIP lounge. Those tickets cost double.
The show is divided into three parts: an intro, where the lava artist introduced herself ("My name is Samantha, you can probably tell from that and my accent that i'm not Icelandic"), and gave some basic safety details, the history of the lava show, and some basics on how they do what they do. She brought the lava engineer, Mario, in to say hi, and show the safety gear he has to wear behind the scenes to make lava flow into the room. He's basically in a space suit. The visor is in fact made with the same gold alloy that actual astronauts have in their helmets. The rest is pretty different, though. The suit actually does look a lot like Moltar from Space Ghost. I'd be willing to bet dollars to donuts that these suits were actually the inspiration for that character.
She reiterated several times, "DO NOT TOUCH THE LAVA." No matter how many times they say this, she assured us that yes, people do in fact try to touch the lava. It gets up to 1000 degrees celsius, nearly 2000 degrees Fahrenheit, and the amount of lava that will be in this room can take up to four days to cool down. I learned a lot about lava here, i had no idea about this stuff. Lava is evidently an incredible insulator, as the stuff on the surface solidifies, it keeps most of the heat in underneath. Big lava slides can take hundreds, even thousands of years to fully cool. That's frankly mind-blowing.
Then there was a short movie about volcanoes. Iceland has the densest concentration of volcanoes in the world. At any given moment there are 50 volcanoes erupting on Earth. If the volcano under Yellowstone erupts, it could take out the entire western half of the United States in hours. Just a few factoids that have remained lodged in my brain.
Then Samantha came back to play with the lava.
First, she placed a block of ice in the middle of the slope, to show what happens when lava flows over that. The lava started coming down from the hole in the wall, viscous like syrup. When it reached the ice, there was a bit of sizzling, and grapefruit-sized bubbles formed and popped in the lava.
When it reached the basin, she threw another block of ice on top of it. This was not nearly as dramatic as the ice that had gotten trapped below it, as the quickly-evaporating water vapor had someplace to go.
I guess i don't need to describe the entire show in great detail, i've already gone on about this for far longer than i probably needed to, but suffice it to say, it was very cool. I saw her lift lava with a stick, form flowing strings of it, and as it cooled, lift the already-solidified straight run of lava off the ramp and form a bridge with it.
At the end there was a Q&A, and one thing that stuck out to me was, somebody asked about clearing the lava from roads after an eruption. She said that if it's less than a certain height, they can just run a bulldozer through it and clear it away in a couple of hours. But for very large lava spills, they...don't.
They add more lava to it, to flatten it out, and mark a new road on top of the lava. Then they put up hazard signs telling drivers DO NOT STOP ON THIS ROAD. You just have to keep driving, no matter what. Because, as stated, the lava underneath can take months, years, decades, centuries to fully cool. If you stop on these lava roads, your tires could melt.
Absolutely fascinating stuff. No wonder Samantha, after coming to Iceland from New York City accidentally, suddenly decided to move there and become a geologist.
It was raining for real when i came out of the lava show. Sucks, but what am i gonna do? This is my only time to adventure in Reykjavik, i'm just gonna do that.
I probably could have taken a bus back to the museum, but c'mon. Someone did walk up to me in the rain and ask if i knew where the bus stop was, so i pulled up Maps and showed them where some should be, but i knew i still wasn't going to do that.
Besides, there were a few more things i could stop at on the way.
Like the monument to the 10th anniversary of EVE Online, one of the most successful MMORPGs of all time. The monument was placed 10 years ago, so i guess we're at 20 years of EVE Online at this point. I never played EVE, but when it first came out, they also released a CCG in tandem, and i did buy into that. Just a tiny bit.
The monument consists of three differently-sized objects, the center one being a chrome monolith. Around the base, the names of 100,000 EVE players have been engraved in the stone. A laptop was buried beneath the sculpture, containing video, audio, and written messages from EVE players, as a time capsule. The intent is to open the capsule in 2039, twenty-five years after it was placed.
Next up, well, i still haven't eaten, and Atlas Obscura lists a hot dog stand which it claims is the "longest continuously operating family-owned business in Iceland, founded in 1937." The claim seems dubious to me; Iceland has been here for a thousand years, you're telling me no small businesses from more than 85 years ago have survived?
I didn't find Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur at the coordinates provided by the Atlas. I searched for it, and it was another six minute walk away, but in the direction i was heading, at least. This is the main location; it was moved here in the 1960s, but since then, they've franchised other locations around Reykjavik. Their big thing is that they make their hot dogs primarily out of lamb meat, though there are trace amounts of beef and pork used as well.
I was hoping for an actual restaurant, so i could get out of the rain and sit down for a minute, but no, it was actually just a small hot dog stand, and i thought it looked kind of familiar, but i wasn't sure. There was a pretty significant line outside when i walked up, but i decided to go for it anyway. It turned out that a lot of what i thought was a line was just a huge cluster of customers, obviously all together, many of whom already had their hot dogs. The single occupant of the stand was assembling dog after dog, handing them through the little window as she went, like a well-oiled machine. After all the dogs had been distributed, she rang up the bill; it was 8000 ISK. This group spent over $60 on hot dogs.
I was next. I got my hot dog, stood next to the building, and enjoyed it. Tasted kind of familiar, too. It was quite good, for a hot dog.
The rain had mostly let up by this point. I was going to head to Fischersund, a fragrance shop and mini-museum founded and operated by Jónsi, frontman of the band Sigur Rós. I'd overshot it slightly when i went from the Atlas Obscura coordinates to the actual location of the hot dog stand, so i'd need to backtrack...but Maps was telling me it didn't open until noon anyway. It was 11:30. The punk museum was a higher priority.
And it was everything i hoped it would be.
From the outside, it's just a concrete stairwell leading into the ground, with a fence around it to prevent people from falling in. The fence has been thoroughly decorated with punk signs, and the concrete fully covered in anti-authoritarian graffiti, including, "ACAB: All Cops Are Bastards, All Clitorises Are Beautiful, All Capitalists Are Bitches." There's something in there about All Cats also, but unfortunately, i got that part cut off in my photo, and i can't remember what it said.
At the bottom of the stairs, i looked into the metal gate which serves as a door, and there was a huge cluster of people blocking it. I waited outside for a minute, then the one at the back noticed me, waved me in, and disappeared off to the right.
To the left, the group was clustered around a man in his 50s or 60s with a tall green mohawk and a leather jacket. I waited. After a minute, the group moved further into the left side of the museum, allowing me access to this finely-aged punk.
"One for the museum," i said.
"How would you like to pay? Cash, or..."
"Card," i said, producing my plastic.
"No one pays in gold anymore," he said. "i had a dream last night that i went to a different world, and everybody paid for everything in gold. It was beautiful."
"I'm sorry," i said. "If i had known, i would have brought some."
He explained that the museum began behind me, where the first guy had turned right, and then loops around to end where he was sitting now. It's ordered chronologically, the headphones dangling from the ceiling will let you listen to a couple songs by the bands referenced in the museum. Any of the jackets that are hanging around you can feel free to put on and take selfies in. Take all the photos and videos you want.
I went to the beginning, and walked through the door. On the back side, there's a sign that says, "Do not take a shit in our toilet or piss in the urinal thanx." I wondered what kind of plumbing they had down here that customers couldn't use the toilets, but i'd have my answer in just moments, once i'd moved through this timeline of the development of Icelandic punk, beginning in the 1890s with accordion-based folk music.
I've mentioned several times that this museum is built from an old public restroom.
The toilets are still there.
Didn't expect that.
They don't stink at all; i mean, i'm sure that everything was thoroughly cleaned and sanitized before they built a museum here. Granted, these people are punks, but they're not vermin. The urinals do have things in them, though, like jumbles of XLR cables, symbolizing the struggle that all of us go through for the sake of our music. Many instruments are strung up about the place, which i assume belonged to some of these bands, although i don't know how much of the museum is actual memorabilia, and how much was fabricated just for this. I think a lot of it was created for the museum.
Lot more Björk than i expected. I guess i'm more familiar with her electronic pop music than her punk roots, i'm too young to remember that era of Björk and i haven't dug into her discography as much as i obviously should have. Like, i had entirely forgotten that The Sugarcubes were a thing, they've never really been on my mind. Might need to change that.
While i was hanging out in one of the stalls, reading the stories on the walls, i heard someone start playing a drum set. Whoever it was, they were pretty decent. The acoustics in this bathroom are really something. If you recorded an album in here, it certainly would have character.
In the next room, where the old punk was sitting, there was indeed a full drum kit. There were also some amps backlined, so i suppose, theoretically, there are enough instruments here to jam. I would love to be able to say i'd recorded an album in this lavatory-museum.
Here's also where all the headphones were dangling from the ceiling. Each had a label on it indicating what band you were hearing. I was particularly fond of Q4U and Grýlurnar. I was able to stick my phone between the speakers and Shazam a few of their songs, so i've got homework.
At the end, i bought a compilation CD featuring some of the bands from the headphones, including both Q4U and Grýlurnar, plus a t-shirt and a sticker. Adding in the price of admission, i dropped almost 10,000 ISK in that toilet. Absolutely worth it, very happy with my choices.
It was only 12:15, so i decided to go ahead and check out the Sigur Rós shop. No, i didn't expect Jónsi to actually be there, and i didn't know what i would do if he was. I enjoy Sigur Rós's music, but in a tertiary capacity. I absolutely would not be able to hold a conversation with even a real fan, let alone any members of the actual band.
I passed through that area with the kung fu polar bear and puffin again, but this time, the map was leading me straight through that suspected sunken public congregation area. As soon as i'd taken the ramp down to its level, i realized that it wasn't a gathering space at all.
It's a skate park.
There's lots of open space to pick up speed, but there's also ramps, rails to grind on, picnic tables missing one side of their legs so they clearly can't be sat at but are perfect for doing tricks off of, all kinds of stuff. There are a few benches throughout which look like people can actually sit at them, if they're brave.
This is fucking awesome.
I really should learn to skateboard. I tried as a kid, but since when i was young i didn't stick with anything that didn't come to me easily and immediately, i gave up on it quickly. Going to that hostel in France which was attached to a skate shop and *allegedly* offered lessons kind of whet my appetite for it again. Wish that had worked out.
I'm definitely, absolutely, positively, 100% for sure going to learn to skateboard when i get back home. For real.
Fischersund was not at all what i expected. It's an aroma shop first and foremost, which i knew, and i have no business being in an aroma shop at this time. I have given some thought to learning a bit about scents, especially as i've been starting to try and build on my own fashion choices. But i've said i was going to learn a thousand different things over the years and never gotten around to all of them, especially this last year. Like skateboarding. So this might just be another one of those things.
I was well out of my depth here. The clerk was helping two older women, so fortunately i didn't think i'd need to interact with anyone, but he turned around and caught me shooting video. He broke from that conversation, greeted me, and said, "By all means! Look around, try the scents. Let me know if you need anything."
"Actually," i said. "I was interested in seeing the museum in the basement."
"Oh, of course! It's over this way, please be careful on the stairs and watch your head."
As i walked that way, a second clerk intercepted me. "It's displaying an installation of our new scents," she said, or something to that effect. I had no idea what she was talking about, so i thanked her, and continued toward the stairs.
What i found in that basement perplexed me. There were several different types of aroma diffusers on a small, very low table in the middle of this cramped cellar, with a box made of paper suspended above them. There were drawings on the paper, but they were facing inward, toward the scents, which included the only source of light in the room. There was a small cabinet against one wall, but that was it. There was nothing else down here.
There was a black curtain off to one side, so i wondered if the museum was through there. I poked my head through.
It was a kitchen.
Beyond that, it looked like perhaps an employee bathroom.
I went back upstairs. The second clerk was nearby, unengaged. "Is this the museum?"
"It's an installation displaying our new scents," she said. "The installations change from time to time."
Oh, so that's it. Okay. From Atlas Obscura, i had gotten the impression that there was a permanent exhibit down there. Perhaps the person who wrote the article thought that also. But it does not seem to be the case.
She moved on to assist some other people who had come in. The first clerk was also busy, so i was able to slip back to the front of the building uninterrupted.
One more thing mentioned by the Atlas, though, that i was able to see before i left. This place is very small, just one little room, very sparse, where all of these scents are displayed and the two clerks are handling business. In one corner, there is a permanently attached ladder, which leads up above the ceiling. There's a bit of a cubby up there for your head, with a hole through the wall that you can peek through. In there is a miniature art installation done by Jónsi's sister, Sigurrós, the namesake of the band. It was two TVs, angled to form a V, showing footage of flowers, with some flowers in front of them. Pleasant.
I got out of there without having to engage with them further. Definitely better that way. I was not equipped for this place.
I wished i'd skipped it. Would have been more poetic to end the trip with the punk museum, since it was something i was looking forward to from the very beginning and was originally intended to be the first stop. Now i have this disappointing and uncomfortable final bit tacked on to the end there.
I checked the schedules for buses back to the airport.
Panic.
Now i really wish i'd skipped the scent shop.
Shit.
It was immediately clear that the 55 would not be viable. The timetables were not going to work out for me in the slightest. Best i could do would get me to the airport at 3:45. One hour before the flight.
Hahahahahahaha no.
Maps suggested taking a city bus to the Flybus station, but that would get me there in time to hurry up and wait for the 2:00 Flybus, which would have me at Keflavik at 2:45. That was also not preferable.
But.
If i go on foot.
Maybe.
Maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe.
I can still make the 1:00 Flybus.
Maps was quoting me a 24 minute walk. It was 12:42.
I've dropped too many references into this log about walking 16 minute miles when i'm not in a flop-sweat of adrenaline to disbelieve in myself now. Sure, i'm wearing more clothing than usual, since i've got the arms on my jacket and the legs on my pants even though they look stupid now, and i've got my heavy backpack riding on my shoulders but not tight enough that it won't bounce on my thoracolumbar fascia with every footfall if i run. And it's raining again, so i'll have that added resistance, plus the ground might be slippery.
But i think i can do it.
Because i must.
And if i do miss that bus...well, i'm really no worse off than i would be anyway. Nothing to lose, other than a whole lot of extra physical exertion in the rain which might be for naught.
I took off, fueling a god damn warp core in my heart with as much anxiety, ADHD, and adrenaline as i could summon into my body. The USS Endocrine was about to break the Threshold and give Janeway some lizard babies.
I'm actually really sorry about that one, but i write for my own amusement. You're welcome.
I wish i could put in another filler paragraph just to hold the suspense for a little longer, but i was more or less blind to the world around me during this mad dash. I was successful. Partly because, yeah, i just walk that fast, plus there was a straightaway where i actually did break into a run for as long as i could. But also partly because, once i could see the actual bus terminal, i recognized that Maps was trying to lead me the long way around the entire block to come to a front entrance, when i could clearly see the buses on the side, and i could cut straight across the parking lot. This maneuver saved me 4 minutes.
I walked up to the bus as it was loading and joined the back of the line at 12:55.
I verified with the last passenger ahead of me that it was, in fact, the bus to Keflavik airport. I stood there for a few minutes more, waiting, and then saw the driver. I confirmed with him, too, but also asked, "I haven't purchased my ticket, am i able to do that as i board?"
"Uhh," he said. "Well, you can do it at the machine in the building." He pointed.
"Okay," i said. "When does this bus leave?"
"As soon as you get back."
"Thank you."
I went inside, but i didn't see a self-service kiosk. There was no one waiting at the counter, though, so i approached the only person working there.
"Hi, i just need a bus ticket to the airport," i said.
"Okay," she replied, and started typing.
"The one that's leaving right now, they said they'd wait for me," i clarified.
"Oh. In that case, this will be faster," she said, getting out of her chair and coming through the door to my side of the desk. She walked over to the self-service kiosks that i had not seen at all, because from the entry, they're behind a partial wall. She smacked buttons quickly, getting through the options far faster than i ever would have, since i'd have needed to read things, and then instructed me to tap my credit card. I did so dutifully, and a receipt popped out.
"You can go," she said.
"This is all i need?" i asked, holding up the receipt.
"Yes."
I got back outside as they were still closing up the possum belly. The driver of the previous run of the bus had been saying something to the new driver, who must have indicated that he was waiting for me. She said, "Is this him right here?" indicating me.
"Yes," he said. He took my ticket, and i was aboard.
Now, i could relax a little.
I'd be at the airport at 1:45, three hours before my flight. That's a comfortable number. Just in case anything goes wrong with security, or anything else.
Security was, as i'd suspected, pretty easy at the Keflavik airport. The guard manning the bin-loading side of the x-ray machine told me i could probably leave my shoes on. I did set off the metal detector, though, because i'd forgotten to take my wallet out of my pocket, of all things. So the guard on that side sent me back through, and told me to also take my shoes off. When i returned to the bins, throwing my shoes in, the first guard saw me, and gave me the comically exaggerated look of exasperation and surprise, like, "oh well, what're you gonna do?" She did grab this third bin of mine an expedite it to the front of the line for me, so that was nice.
This airport also pushes you directly into duty free from the security checkpoint, so now i've seen that twice.
My gate hadn't been announced yet. I was getting hungry, since all i'd had was that prepackage pastry and that single hot dog. Since i'd have quite a bit of time, i thought about getting another hot dog from the stand i'd eaten at on the way into Europe, so long ago, but once i was past the duty free and into the main waiting area, i changed my mind. They'd made a lot of progress on the construction in the last two months, which, well, yeah, that makes sense. Just. Brains, you know? Object permanence and all that.
The entire area where i'd sat last time was now gone, replaced by construction fencing and new walls that weren't finished yet. But the food court area they'd been working before was now finished. And since it wasn't ass o'clock in the morning, all of the options were open.
I feel like i had been interested in Yuzu Bürgers before, but it was closed. I checked their menu. They had something called the "Sjoppu" Burger, with the quotes exactly that way, described as, "The classic Icelandic cornerstore burger." If this is another authentic Icelandic experience, then count me in. I ordered that, with fries, chose the mushroom mayo as my dipping sauce, and got three Nutella-filled donuts.
The burger itself was kind of mid, but the mushroom mayo was incredible, and the Nutella donuts were pretty good, though much smaller than i'd expected.
On the table in the food court was a QR code you could scan to track your flight updates, including the gate and boarding times. I did that right away, and by the time i'd finished my food, it had been announced. Gate D35. On time.
I got up and went for it. Better to be waiting near the gate, after all. From the food court, there was a sign saying that Terminal D would be a 20 minute walk. Heh heh, we'll just see about that...
Like ten paces beyond that sign was another one saying it was a 15 minute walk.
Honestly, it was not very far at all, it would probably be a five minute walk, except for one thing. Which i'll get to in a second, because first, i need to point something else out.
On my way over to Terminal D, i passed that hot dog stand i'd eaten at last time. The "Iceland's Most Famous Hot Dog" one.
It's another Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur.
No wonder it had all felt so familiar.
So that hot dog stand is in another large waiting area. Last time, i had not ventured beyond this area; my flight was out of Terminal A, which is the hallway between the food court and this spot. Now, i would be continuing to the other side...
And there's the entry for Terminal D, right here. Terminal C is further down that hallway. This is not how i'd expected that to go.
And here it is. Corrals.
Because before you can enter Terminal D, you need to go through Passport Control.
That's why it takes so long to get down there.
Fortunately, it was pretty quiet at Passport Control today. The corrals had a straight shot open in them, so i didn't even need to weave, and then i was able to step up to one of the booths and only wait for one person ahead of me. The guy took my passport, glanced through it, found my entry stamp, and was about to stamp the exit mark when he hesitated.
"Where are you going?"
"United States," i said. "Back home."
"Oh. Okay." He stamped my book.
That took all of like fifteen seconds.
I proceeded past the booth. There were turnstiles which required you to scan your boarding pass. An airport employee stood by the side of them. She asked me for my passport.
"Where are you going?"
"United States," i said, thinking about how i'd just done this.
"Okay," she said, returning my passport. I scanned my boarding pass, and went through.
Beyond the turnstiles was a staircase leading down. At the bottom, i found myself in yet another duty free. This one had an eight-foot statue of a troll in it, for some reason.
After that, some restaurants.
Past the restaurants, which were crowded to the point where i couldn't see any open tables at any of them, there are no chairs or benches at all. The only place to sit is the floor.
I found my gate. There was still over an hour before takeoff, but dozens of people had already lined up at the desk, just standing there, waiting.
I located a clear piece of floor for my butt and rested my back against a floor-to-ceiling window. It was time to reorganize my backpack.
From my quick scouting of the gate, i didn't think anyone would bother me about my bag. Again, i didn't see anyone with the "Approved cabin baggage" labels. I also didn't see a box for sizing or a scale up at the front, but those things could easily be behind the desk, i guess. Still.
Still.
I'm gonna be cautious.
I put my new punk museum shirt on over the one i was already wearing, so it wouldn't take up space in the bag. Hard drives in the pants pockets. Box of cables in the inside vest pocket that doesn't have water bottles. Make sure the contents of the bag are evenly distributed so it's not wider at the bottom than the top.
I was ready.
I sat there for only a couple minutes after the reorg before i heard an employee going through the line, the end of which had now reached my spot, and saying that boarding would begin soon, and everyone should line up. It was 3:45.
If i'd taken the 55, i could be just getting to the airport now!
They started letting people through the gate twenty minutes later.
After that, there was a set of stairs to climb up. An escalator and an elevator were also available. I took the stairs, as so few other people were doing. There was a glass door at the top, with only a small landing area.
Behind the glass door, the line of people had halted.
The glass door was swung open, and i had stopped right at the edge of the door itself, with two people between me and the threshold. This was odd.
The line continued to not move. That landing area filled up quickly. There was room for maybe 50 or 60 people to stand there, crammed like sardines, but the relentless escalator kept bringing them up. One woman shouted for everyone to try and move forward, but there was nowhere to move. A group of elderly people came up the elevator, only to find no place to get out. They stood there, in the elevator, holding an arm in front of the door as it kept trying to close.
Eventually, somehow, the escalator got stopped, which was a relief.
We heard someone on the floor below, presumably an employee, suggesting that someone take the elevator. A woman shouted down, "There's no room in the elevator!"
"Thank you for that information!" came the reply.
We stood there for quite some time. I just kept thinking about how exceptionally dumb this was.
But, it seemed like this hallway was going to lead us straight into the plane, so it was unlikely that my bag would get inspected beyond this point. I knelt down and opened it, and started reloading. I got the hard drives secured, and then there was some movement, so i stopped and stood back up.
The line wasn't really moving, though. But i waited.
Soon, it did move.
Once i was beyond the glass door, though, i pulled over into a much more open space and let people move past me. I got everything that came out of the bag back into it, plus i disassembled the R6m2 and added that, and my new shirt, and the sleeves from my vest.
This better get me straight on the plane. If i get a baggage check at this point i'm gonna be pissed.
I rejoined the line. It was moving very slowly, but it did indeed lead into the plane.
I found my seat. I'm in the middle. The older gentleman in the aisle seat was already there, so i had to ask him to move. I took my spot, and waited.
The call came over the PA. Boarding complete.
Are...are you kidding? Am i gonna be able to slide over into this open window seat??
There were still a few stragglers making their way down the aisle.
Maybe maybe maybe maybe maybe...
No.
It was the very last guy.
As the man to my left and i got up to let the late arrival in, the older gent said, "We almost got away with it."
"I sure was hoping," i replied.
I overheard him have a phone conversation as he got settled that he thought he was going to miss it, he had already looked into options for flying elsewhere, like New York, and then connecting to Chicago somehow, but was encouraged to go see if he could still get aboard. He made it through right as they were closing up.
I am happy for him. I would hate to have been the one to end up at JFK, wondering how the hell i was going to make it to O'Hare. I just also would have liked some more space for my arms. And a window. And a banana split.
We took to the skies.
---
We landed in Chicago early, but then we taxied around for what felt like half an hour. I didn't actually time it.
I did overhear a kid say, "We're all gonna die!" at landing, but it was after we were already on the ground, so. Alright, kid. I guess you are still technically correct.
Off the plane, walking through a glass hallway, looking out at the waiting area by the gates. I recognized that weird structure i'd sat under for hours on the way out. The spot where i had thought i'd lost the keys to one of my backpack locks, which i ended up finding in Copenhagen. I was a different person back then.
The glass hallway led to a lot of stairs, which took us to an underground hallway that was like a thousand years long. Eventually, we reached Passport Control. I didn't realize i was going to have to do this again.
There's so many corrals at Passport Control, but there seemed to be barely a dozen people waiting in line. I got ushered through to a door. I handed the nice lady my passport, and she asked where i was coming from.
"Uh. EU. I was just in Iceland."
"Did you go anywhere else on your trip?"
"Yeah, i was all over the EU."
"Where else?"
"Uh. Do you need a list?"
She stared at me.
"Um. I went from Iceland to Denmark, to Norway, Sweden, Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania..." i had to pause to think, trying to replay the whole trip in my head. "...Poland, Germany, France, Belgium, Netherlands, Switzerland, Italy, back to France, then Spain, and Iceland again."
16 countries. God damn. I hadn't actually been counting, surprisingly. I just did the count right now.
"Okay. Do you have anything to declare? Food, drinks?"
"No," i said.
"Enjoy the rest of your day," she said, handing my passport back, with a customs declaration slip inside. I folded the slip and put it in my pocket, not realizing i was going to need it to get out of the baggage claim in the next room. The dude didn't even ask why it was folded, though. Good thing i didn't throw it away.
The Van Galder bus doesn't pick up from the terminals anymore, which is a shame. I was pretty confused on how to get to the bus. The Coach USA web site gave the address of the MMT, Multi-Modal Transport Building, where they leave from now, and just said to get on the ATS, the Airport Transit System, but didn't give me any indication of how to do that.
I walked outside, and was immediately accosted by several taxi drivers looking for fares. I found someone in an orange Ground Transport vest. I waved to him, he made eye contact with me...then took a call on his walkie talkie and fucked off.
Alyssa texted me. "Welcome back to the States! Let me know avec you're due in Madison." Her autocorrect is nearly as full of French words from Duolingo as mine is.
"I just got outside of ohare. trying to figure out how i get on the Airport Transit System to get to the bus."
I found another Ground Transport vest. "Hi, can you tell me how to get to the ATS?" She didn't respond right away. "The...Airport Transit System?"
"To get to where?" she asked.
"To the bus station, to get on a Coach USA bus."
"Go inside, take the escalator up one floor, then get on it going that way." She pointed.
"It's up there?" i asked, pointing up at the elevated roadway for the departure gates, still thinking this ATS was a bus.
"Yes," she said, probably not realizing exactly what i was pointing at.
I followed her instructions. Up the escalator, i found i was on a floor between the departure and arrival rings. There was no road outside the window. I wondered if i needed to go up the next escalator, but then i saw a sign that said "Airport Transit System," and followed it forward.
It's a monorail train. I did initially try getting into a train that was heading in the wrong direction, but it was too full. I stepped back and allowed the doors to close, thinking i'd take the next one.
Another text from Alyssa came through. I know she's dealt with this more recently, because i've been the on to pick her up from Dutch Mill. "Go up to the departure level and take a sky walk across the street to a train and go out to the car rental lot."
I looked up. The train i'd attempted to get on was going to Terminals 1, 2, and 3. Across the hallway, it said Car Rental Lot.
"ok. thanks. that came through just in time, i almost got on the train going the wrong way."
Even once i got to the MMT building, it was not immediately obvious where to find the bus. I knew i was looking for Bus Bays 5, 6, and 7, but there was no indication where those were. Both directions said "To Buses and Rental Cars."
Arbitrarily, i chose right.
There was a staircase going down. At the bottom was a sign saying that buses were leaving from bays 5, 6, and 7.
Well okay then. But where are those?
I was at the end of the building. I turned around and walked past the staircase.
I think i ended up where i would have anyway if i had gone left instead.
I loaded up the Coach USA app, which i'd spent hours fighting with on the way out and never managed to buy my tickets through, instead having to pay cash when i got on the bus, which cost way more and they wouldn't sell me a round trip. This time, the app quickly and painlessly allowed me to purchase my one-way ticket. After i had to update the app in order to even open it, of course. They must've fixed some pretty gnarly bugs while i was gone.
The bus bays were right in front of me. I could already see a Coach USA sitting in Bay 7. I walked outside.
"Where are you heading?" the driver asked, seeing me approach.
"Madison," i said.
"Nope!" he exclaimed. "Bay 6, 7:00."
"Thank you," i said, walking over to the next bay. It was 6:40. That worked out pretty well actually.
It was a bit chilly outside. Nothing like Iceland, of course, but without sleeves on my jacket, i became uncomfortable after five or so minutes. I went back inside, found a place to fill my water bottles, and walked in circles for a bit.
Eventually i decided i was hungry, and i didn't really want to wait all the way until i got back home to eat. There was a convenience store right here, and yeah, i know things cost more in airports, and i generally don't like to pay for that convenience, but it's gonna be a while. I should get a snack.
It was so much worse than i thought it would be.
I grabbed a bag of peanut butter M&Ms. The clerk asked if i needed anything else, i said no, and pulled out my credit card.
"Oh, our reader's not working very well right now. Any chance you have cash?"
"Yeah," i said. I've offered American cash to a few people over the course of the trip. No one wanted it. I finally had a use. I handed him a 20.
He handed me back a five and some coins.
"Uh, could i get a receipt?" i asked, both because i've been saving all of my receipts on this trip, and because there was no way that was the correct change.
No, it was. That bag of peanut butter M&Ms cost fourteen fucking dollars.
Yikes on bikes smoking Lucky Strikes.
I'd better eat all of these right now while they retain the value of convenience. If they make it home with me they'll have just felt like a huge rip off.
The bus arrived about 15 minutes late. Not very many people boarded, and there were even fewer already on it.
It's been a pretty quiet ride so far. We've just arrived at the Rockford stop. Alyssa's been apprised of my whereabouts. If the bus still manages to hit Dutch Mill at 9:35 as scheduled, she should be on her way home from dog training class, and going past the Park and Ride anyway.
I'm almost there.
Almost.
There.
---
Alyssa had been waiting for me at Dutch Mill for half an hour. The timing had coincidentally worked out almost perfectly for her to just scoop me up on the way back from Lizzie's dog class. As such, the feral bratwurst dog was in the car, waiting.
Lizzie attacked the back of my head the whole drive home. I swear her body mass is 35% tongue. She was very happy to see me. Meanwhile, Alyssa filled me in on everything that's happened since i left, including that both Lizzie and Zuul have destroyed sections of my carpet, and that they still don't get along, despite having lived in the same house for six months now. Other than that, not much has happened.
We planned to leave Lizzie in the yard while i went in the house to greet Zuul. On top of her distaste for her corganger (corgi doppelganger), Zuul is a very jealous girl, often growls at other dogs if she sees me pet them, and she hasn't seen me in two months.
Zuul absolutely lost her mind when she saw me. I knelt down to pet her and she launched herself off the ground and cannonballed into my chest. She probably got my beard hairs stuck between her teeth. After a moment with me, she turned around, ran back to Alyssa, jumped up and tagged Alyssa as high as she could reach, then ran back to me. As if she was telling her auntie to look at who she found, he's back!!
It was after 10pm and i'd been up since 7am Iceland time, which is 2am Central. I expected that i'd be crashing as soon as i got home, but Alyssa and i ended up talking household things for a while, and then i was in the bathroom for...a while...and i ended up in bed after midnight anyway. There is just no putting me down at a reasonable hour.
It was nice to drift off to the serenade of the Bob's Burgers theme song again, in a room devoid of other humans, with an excessive amount of pillows. It's the little things.
I ceased to exist as soon as i hit the pillow.
