Come fly away with me

I must have been quite feverish yesterday. As THESE are my Marina Rinaldi boots from Barcelona. The Saturday ones are from Marina Rinaldi in Oslo. It really does not matter, I know. But I am an accountant by heart, so I have to get things right. Although, you really cannot blame me for getting these things wrong every now and then, can you?

Anyway. My fever is gone. By a miracle called Lemsip. Living in Norway, you cannot avoid catching a cold every now and then. Then I find it slightly annoying that you simply cannot get proper drugs to make a cold bearable in our freezing cold and terribly wet country. The thought behind it is perhaps that then we would be drugged down on cold medicine from November to mid May every year, but why not? Winter is terrible anyway. Fortunately, Miss London acted as my personal drug courier this weekend, as I had managed to empty my seemingly endless supplies of:

Alka Seltzer
Nurofen
Lemsip

I actually used to work in a place where one of the bosses fed us Lemsip if we happened to cough during year-end. Well. That's a whole different story. Point is - this works.

Meaning that I could travel to Stavanger this evening after all. Four full days of year-end fun ahead of me. You may think I am being sarcastic now, but I am not. Really. This is the very core of what I do, and working as a consultant, it is actually very healthy to work with something as real as this from time to time. Normally we are out the door well before the client starts using their solutions. So to me, being in the middle of a REAL reporting, it is actually really interesting. Sorry.

The flight, of course, was an adventure, as always. Upon arrival at the airport, I noticed that my suitcase was vibrating. This is not as exciting as it might seem, as it was just my electrical TOOTHBRUSH going at it inside my vanity bag. Awesome. Had to open the whole thing to shut it off, only to realize that battery would soon be flat. Just as well, as vibrating suitcases are not very popular with airlines these days. "Oh, we are sorry, madame, but we had to blow up your mysterious suitcase, as it was vibrating." Would have made an entertaining blog post, though. I could have considered making that sacrifice in the name of art.

I manage to get suitcase checked in, and survive security. For ONCE I was not so-called "randomly" picked out for a manual search.

We board the plane. And then I can feel it. The smell. The stench. Of the guy sitting next to me taking off his shoes. Please! What is the matter with these guys!? And why do I always get to sit next to them on the plane? For a trans-Atlantic flight for seven hours, yes. THEN, I do not mind if you take your shoes off. But NOT for a forty-minute domestic flight! It makes me sick, do you know that?

Once I was seated next to a guy that was wearing Doc Martens high tops. Shoes that. Do. Not. Breathe. At all. So, when this guy "made himself comfortable" I was THIS close to throwing up in his lap. Having worked at a chemicals plant, I have inhaled my share of toxic fumes (this fact might explain a thing or two). Still, nothing ever comes close to those shoes.

Arriving in hotel was heaven. If I could just sleep. Miss my husband. And I won't see him until Thursday. Weep.


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