iceland: a travelogue
Day -1 : Deplaned! ... and it begins with me sprinting full out from one end of Phoenix's mile-long Sky Harbor Airport to the very last concourse, which of course looks very action film terrorist red flag-like. The plane (if you can call the wee Red Bull can with wings an actual plane) from Tucson was 45 minutes late getting in due to confidence inspiring "maintenance issues", which left me with less than 10 minutes to make my connection to Denver. "The door is closed." I can see the plane through the window, still connected to the jetway. "But the plane is right there ." "The door is closed. You'll have to go talk to customer service," she states in flat disciplinarian tones with barely veiled punitive relish. By contrast the sweet great aunt US Airways desk agent's deeply apologetic about me losing a whole day in Iceland, and I simply can't get pissed at a nice old lady who's doing her best to get me out as early as