I have had a hell of a journey today. It all started at 0440 when my alarm jolted me from my slumber.
(Just for the record, my dream involved being stuck at an airport with Alice Goodwin, Chris Stevens and an angry midget with a rather bad attitude towards air travel.)
Anyway, my dad (being the awesome guy he is) gave me a lift into Birmingham’s Digbeth Coach Station. I am not afraid to say that I was shitting bricks. (Grandma, if you’re reading this, excuse my French.) A short while later, my coach turned up. Out of that Coach stepped the most badass driver of all time. He spoke with a thick African accent and called himself “Driver Kobo”. He checked my ticket and I hopped on board. I tried to catch a bit of sleep, but to no avail. I was in this now and even though by this point I had shat enough bricks to build a small house, I was going to continue.
Driver Kobo gave his usual safety briefing before gesturing to the comments and feedback poster on the side of the coach.
“Now this is where you say I am good driver or you say that you think I brought my licence off eBay.” He said in his thick accent. It gave the coach a small giggle which was amazing in itself as there was probably three people on the coach who actually spoke a word of English.
After a long uneventful journey, we arrived at Gatwick’s South Terminal. After shaking Driver Kobo’s hand, I followed the signs to my check in point. At this point, my bag was rather heavy (Not only due to the amount of stuff I carried, but also adding on the amount of bricks that I had shat earlier which if piled on top of each other could stand level with the BT Tower.) and I was concerned that they would make me pay extra. They didn’t even care. I could have had a duffel bag full to the brim with (Horse) Burgers and they would have just let me through.
After getting past check in, there was a huge security checkpoint. I had to take off everything. Apart from basic clothing and have it all X-Rayed. When the box of my stuff took a couple of minutes to come out of the machine, I feared the worst. I was going to be branded a terrorist! They would take everything including my mansion made out of bricks of my own fear. Turns out it just got caught on something and after jamming a broom in, it came flying out.
After recovering from my near breach of British National Security, I grabbed some food from an Airport McDonald’s and waited. A lot.
Eventually, I was on the plane. I even had a window seat because I was one of the first to check in. Let me say this. England is beautiful from above. I was higher than I’d ever been before and I loved every minute of it. The Icelandic flight attendants (Who were hot.) gave a rather funny safety briefing which involved slagging off their competitors and marketing a standard life jacket as a fashion item. (Although the whistle is soooo last year)
As we soared above the clouds, I couldn’t help but be amazed at how far humanity has come within the last century. Here I was. 30,000ft in the goddamn sky. Flying above clouds that man had only dreamed of seeing. It was like flying through an endless realm of white snow. The sun beamed down on the plane making it rather warm.
I got talking with some fellow passengers who were also staying in Reykjavik and after a brief chat, I gave them a spare copy of my Reykjavik guide book. This was on the condition that they played the favour forward to others in need. After a brief nap, we descended from the light world into darkness.
The moment the clouds cleared, we were battered with wind and rain. The lava fields of the peninsula were covered in a thin layer of snow and the roads were also coated. After passing through another security checkpoint, I was finally there. I took my first step onto Icelandic soil…