I’ve never been one for long flights. Somewhere after the two hour mark, I start getting fidgety in my seats, anxious to get to where I’m going. Ready to deplane and get on with my day. Even on domestic trips from the east coast out west, I either have to be asleep (my naps usually last only two hours) or extremely occupied by onboard entertainment to make it through to the end. It’s never that I feel unsafe. It’s just that, in the words of John Legend, “I’m ready to go right now.”
All of that makes traveling internationally somewhat of a chore for me. I LOVE to experience hew countries, and have been to places that I will always cherish. That doesn’t make the long distance less painful. Seriously, I’ve been known to hyperventilate on trips across the pond to London, and need to stand and walk up and down the aisles on trips to Barbados, which is “only” four hours away from New York. It’s a mess. And it’s why trips to Asia or Australia are almost out of the question (unless I’m flying in the finest of luxury). I know, I know.
The ONE exception I’d make to endure a long trip is to a country I’ve been eyeing for most of my adulthood, but have never had the chance to visit. It’s on a bucket list that has mostly been checked off and includes seeing most of our living legends in concert while they’re still alive (I’ve seen Stevie, Patti, Regina Belle, Gladys Knight, The O’Jays, Billy Joel, Sting, even Bruno Mars, but still no Jay-Z for some reason. Gotta work on that…) and driving across America (done it twice! Alone! While being Black!). Yet, I’ve still to make it there. Where, you ask? You did ask, right? OK, cool.
Iceland. That’s where I want to go.
Yes. I, Dawson want to go to a country whose temperature maxes out at 70 degrees in the summer and bottoms out at -10 most winters. I realize it doesn’t seem like something I’d do, especially since I’m a summer baby and my favorite seasons are spring and fall. But it’s true. It’s where I wanna be. Boy. Heh. Here are some reasons why.
OK, there’s actually only one reason. The lagoons. It could be the Blue Lagoon, or any other lagoon they’ve got (well, preferably the ones you can get to by car. Ain’t no respectable Black man gonna be hiking in a foreign country just to get to any water, no matter how warm it is.). I want it. I’ve done the research and honestly the lagoons would be the only reason to go. It’s the water and its milky blue shade. It’s the soft white mud on the bottom of the lake that is great for the skin. But most of all, it’s the temps that reach as high as 104 degrees for me. It’s definitely not the food, which seems bland (they don’t use spices), or the fact that they speak Icelandic (which is fine as long as I can remember how to say “where is the lagoon?”), or how I read that they don’t allow turtles as pets (Huh? What kind of savage country is this?!? I mean, ONE hundred guy(s) gets salmonella and all of a sudden there’s a ban. Blah!).
So it’s Blue of bust. Or any of the five hot springs they boast as the best. I just want to be able to wade peacefully in the water and watch the (non-gaseous) steam rise to the clouds. Right now the regular prices to get there aren’t that bad, but as I stated earlier, I’d need to fly in the firstest of classes in order to make it there in one mental, anxiety-free piece. THOSE prices are ungood. Or at least out of reach today. But I know I’ll make it there one day. And when I go, I’ll try my best to smuggle some Old Bay and hot sauce in my carry-on right alongside my swimming trunks and sleeping pills.
Hey… whatever it takes.