The First Few Hours

We arrived at the Reagan National Airport in DC on the 28th for our first flight to Boston. Rich and I stumbled around with our big bags as Zeke and Evan laughed at inability to pack light. We went through security relatively easily after Rich was antagonized by the TSA agents for dropping his bags too far away from them and making them come get it. While waiting for our flight we played a quick game of spades and Zeke spotted Michael Ian Black, star of such films as Run Fat Boy Run and Hell Baby. 

When we arrived in Boston we realized we only had an hour and a half until our next flight and it was in a separate terminal. Evan quickly took up the alpha male position, walking 8-10 feet in front of the rest of us, in order to speed us along. We got to the gate with plenty of time for us to exchange our money and for Rich to waste some of his money on two pieces of Sbarro Stuffed Pizza which looked delicious and tasted like armpit. On a side note, the exchange rate makes you feel pretty badass as 1 dollar is 100 krona, until you realize how goofy the pictures on their bills are. 

On the flight Zeke, Evan, and I were lucky enough to be seated next to each other. Really it was not luck at all, it was planned so that none of us had to deal with Rich's inevitable back sweat and giant limbs. Unluckily, however, we were seated behind a family of fat demon children in all denim outfits. Throughout the flight the children would take turns yelling at their mother who was too busy watching 300 to hear them. Interestingly, although we got to choose our own movies, this woman would cover her eyes during all  the sex and fighting scenes in the movie, which I believe is 90% of the film. Approximately four hours into our flight Zeke and I reached our breaking points. I would shush them when they yelled and Zeke would smack their hands when they reached back and poked our TV. 

The 5 hour flight flew by, pun intended, and we touched down outside of Reykjavik at around midnight. In the airport we stopped to get food, Rich sticking to the familiar with something titled the "Pepperoni Taco," while I ordered a smoked lamb sandwich. After chowing down we headed to the customs desk where Evan was aggressively polite to the customs agent, belligerently respectful you could say. For some reason the customs agent asked Rich if he was our caretaker, when in actuality the exact opposite is the case. The rental car agent met us after the baggage claim, took us to our car, and unhelpfully suggested that the best thing in his entire nation was the nightlife in Reykjavik. Midnight in Iceland has the lighting of like 8 o'clock in the U.S. so we took our car and started driving north on Highway 1, something called the Ring Road, which goes all the way around the outside of the nation. The sun started to come up at around 2 AM, just as I fell asleep in the backseat for the first of many times. 

-Tirrill