All right well, I’m drinking a beer in Terminal E of Logan Airport in Boston, 45 minutes from boarding a flight to Iceland. I guess, like, I’m actually gonna go do things. Flight’s about five and a half hours, gets in around 430am Reykjavik time I think, so probably 6 or 7 by the time I get downtown — not that I know how I’m getting downtown — so hopefully can drop my bags off at the hostel, do a little early morning exploration, and probably… do some work.
Boston was great fun. My mom and I stayed in a beautiful hotel while she was here, and just enjoyed being in the city, and then I got to spend time with some of my dearest friends, met some more friends, wandered around my old haunts (and by my old house), and pet one really excellent cat quite a bit.
I expect at some point it will sink in that I’m about to go to a whole bunch of countries I’ve never been before, but it really hasn’t yet.
Though I feel like unexpectedly getting my (small but not insignificant) tax returns early was a good omen.
I’m actually a little nervous since I haven’t flown over the ocean in fucking 15 years!