This post was supposed to be a post about tonight’s arrival in Reykjavik. Instead, it’s about how Mike and I ended up in a hostel outside of Boston. Welcome to traveling for a living, Melissa!
Flashback to earlier today: Mike and I got up at a decent hour (we’ve been crashing with his friend John in DC), and immediately, started on our pre-flight tasks. We had to pick up a duffel bag or suitcase somewhere for our tent, sleeping bag (mine), hiking boots (his) that we planned to check at the airport.
It was super hot outside, and since we’re living out of backpacks now, we had no car. We decided to try the local Salvation Army, which according to Google Maps, was just 5-6 blocks away. We headed up in that direction, sweating our (in my case, hypothetical) balls off, only to realize it wasn’t a Salvation Army store.
High off my “I’M GOING TO ICELAND IN A FEW HOURS” thing, all I could think about was getting to the airport. And getting something to eat. I trudged along, a bit distracted, while Mike googled local thrift stores. After some wandering through a very interesting neighborhood of DC, we finally happened upon a small shop and shelled out $10 for a Eddie Bauer duffel.
By the time we got to our lunch location, The Coupe, I was sweaty and starving. Without even asking, the waiter immediately brought over some water. Huge bonus. We ordered some stuffed dates and examined the menu.
I won’t hold back. This menu was incredible. Homemade pierogies, a Ham and Gruyere Cheese Waffle, and an appetizer simply called, Pot of Pickles.
I got the Braised Pork Tostada and Mike got the Roasted Tomato & Herb Omelet. I loved it, the food was amazing, but instead of sharing any particularly deep thoughts, I’ll share this video I made on Vine while waiting for our meals.
(Lonely Peppah is so going to be a thing)
So after getting some stuff printed out at FedEx Office, we jumped on the Metro and headed to Reagan. Although getting to Reagan was really easy, our arrival in Boston proved to be a bit troublesome. Our initial flight time of 5:30 PM was pushed back to 6:30 PM. Although we had a three hour layover in Boston, Mike feared a future delay, and tried to get us on an earlier flight. Of course, it was booked.
I’m pretty patient in situations like this, and turns out, Mike is super proactive. He did everything he could to get us on an earlier flight. However, once again, our flight was pushed back again – this time, to 7:15 PM. The US Air representative assured us that there was a later flight to Reykjavik that we could still make, if we missed the first one. (Spoiler alert: there wasn’t).
We ended up arriving in Boston around 9:15 PM, with about 10 minutes to make our flight to Reykjavik. The flight attendants were kind enough to let us off the plane first. We pushed through a crowd of first class passengers who didn’t seem to care that we needed to make an international flight, as the coach passengers cheered us on (a bit of an exaggeration, but basically what happened).
We rushed through the airport (of course the terminal we were departing from was on the opposite side of the airport), and arrived at the International Terminal with only four minutes to spare. We still had to get our tickets before getting on the plane.
The guy working the ticket desk immediately told us there was no way we were making the flight (Dramatic re-enaction). Mike asked him nicely to make a call, just to make sure, which confirmed our worst fear – the plane was taxi-ing, and we had missed our flight to Reykjavik.
He rebooked us for the night flight going out – the following afternoon – but I was sad Snoopying George Michael style around the airport. Especially after the expected happened – US Airways refused to comp us for a hotel room for “bad weather” and the “discounted” hotels weren’t available. We ended up booking a hostel outside of Boston.
I was grumpysauce. I didn’t want to take the subway, I just wanted to curl up, go to sleep, and wake up in Reykjavik. Mike however, was charged, excited. He poked a little fun at me for being frustrated, and struck up a conversation with a lovely older woman, Diana, who had just returned from Turkey. I eased my way into their conversation, and from the kindness of her heart, Diana instructed us how to get where we were going. This brought us to the Wellington stop on the orange line of the Boston subway system.
The hostel we booked, Boston Backpackers, picked us up at the train station. The girl, Carli, was extremely helpful and informative, and soon enough, we were settled behind the warm glow of our laptops. Mike, working, me, writing this post.
As frustrated as the whole experience was, I’m grateful for it. It reminded me how unpredictable travel is, which is probably why I love it so much. Mike’s positivity, in spite of my frustration, reminded me of what an incredible travel partner he’s going to be. Obviously, it also reminded me about why I’m so crazysauce about him, why we’re so well matched.
I often find that one of is constantly able to bring the other one to a calm, rational place. Despite any hiccups along the way, I know I can depend on him, and vice versa, to remind ourselves to forget the hassle of travel and just enjoy the ride.
So tomorrow, we’re Reykjavik bound once again, a little bit wiser then we were yesterday.