It’s sometimes odd to compact your life into a few small bags, but once again I find myself in that position. 1 person, 3 bags, 4 flights, 22 hours of travel. Like most travelers, I spent the night prior to my flight actually packing because I had yet to do so. NOTE: I do not recommend. I just magically always end up in this position. By 2:00, I was finally ready to head out and at 4:30, that is just what I did. Somehow, my transportation consisted of my landlord and her boyfriend (who I’m in the middle of a passive aggressive fight with. the landlord, not her boyfriend. I HAVE QUIET HOURS IN MY HOUSE TEAM, AND SHE HAS THE THERMOSTAT UNDER LOCK AND KEY).

Brief flight summary/feelings:

• Walla Walla–>Seattle: Uneventful to the max, but I did see some beautiful mountains.
• Layover: Searched for 700 hours for a decent breakfast, only to give up and get airport scrambled eggs with Italian sausage and cheese (Sausage too spicy for breakfast, eggs too sweet without it; I ate some bread instead). I called my mom for a bit to chat before leaving the country and this little old woman sitting next to me listening in to my conversation. I must have spoken in third person at  some point in that conversation, because when I hung up the woman addressed me by name–she may have been psychic though, always a possibility. Turns out she and her husband had been a host family for over 40 years. Daaaaammmmnnnnn. She thinks my gift to my family is great (speaking of which I forgot to give it to them, is it too late??!)
• Seattle–>Anchorage: Read some sweet poetry from the book I bought my host family.
• Layover 2.0: Refueled with a salmon burger and some bomb fries. I may have been in heaven; I may have been starving. Imagine this: me. casually eating fries. hears yelling. LOOKS UP TO SEE A FIGHT BREAK OUT IN THE AIRPORT. Team I was shocked, like 8 security guards came over to break it up (thankfully before a flight broke out). Then some dude came over–one of those people who feel the need to make everything their person business and just make any situation worse–and starting ranting about how “those people” (points at group of black men) can do whatever they want while “people like us” (points at white people) are the only ones who face trouble and have to deal with the police… I’m voting he’s a grade-A Trump supporter.
• Anchorage–>Keflavik (Iceland): My mom had this idea that I would see the northern lights on this trip so I chose to not sleep. This did NOT happen. The only northern lights I saw were the ones painted onto the plane and lighting up the inner cabin. (k, let’s be real they were still cool). I watched Selma and did not cry. Then proceeded to have my first legal drink (okay a few gin&tonics, a gin&juice, and some Bailey’s. IT WAS A SAD MOVIE FOLKS DON’T JUDGE ME). Then I just wanted to relax and lean back, which I tried to do before I was aggressively kicked in the back–until my seat was straight as a board–and yelled at me in a different language before placing his knees behind me so I couldn’t move my chair at all. WHO DOES THAT? when he went to the bathroom I shoved my chair back and pretended to be asleep so HA!
• Layover 3.0: Why do the people at customs seem like all life has been drained out of them?
• Keflavik–>København (Denmark): Literally, I think the people next to me were trying to join the mile-high club (and they might have, I fell asleep after 15 minutes because #tired).

*Why do people get window seats if they plan to close the shades. I want to see the outside world.

(whoops, that wasn’t really brief. I think I’ll post this for now and come back with a post of me actually in Denmark.)

Have a GayDay (har en homoseksuel dag),

Emily.