Leaving New York

On the plane home. The last day of any vacation is always sad. You are restless because you need to catch your flight. And you can not do anything too time consuming, in case you get delayed.

The check-in at Newark was not half as exciting as the one in Oslo close to a week ago. I think I forgot to tell you about it. We were standing at the front of the check-in line, when I look to my right and see this "has-been" of a Norwegian singer checking in in the aisle next to me. I tend to get starstruck quite easily, so I could not help staring. Then, by chance, I looked to my left. And. OH. MY. GOD. You will not believe this. It was Mags. From A-ha. Technically also a "has-been" after their last concert in December, but - WOW. I just stood there, totally paralysed. The only thing that could have made it even more embarrassing would be if I had started screaming. You know, the way Beatles-fans used to do. Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiii! I screamed on the inside, though.

I apologize for getting a bit carried away there for a second. Ok. Where were we? Got up early this morning to pack all of our bags (they have doubled in less than a week) while my husband was still sleeping. Wanted to check if we had any space left left in our luggage. For more of the amazing Ralph Lauren sheets. We had. Yay. More shopping. Not everyone was as thrilled as me, without getting into details.

We decided to catch a cab back to the hotel after our small excursion, as it was raining. And - lugging five 600-thread count deep fitted queen bed sheets (I am becoming an expert) across Manhattan does not really improve the mood of someone who:

A) Hated going shopping in the first place
B) Has - again - been denied his breakfast

Our taxi driver asked us where we come from, as taxi drivers sometimes do. This one had not only heard about Norway, he had been there! Very unusual. He could even inform us that the best pizza in the WORLD is served in Norway - more specifically - in Stavanger. After telling him that we live in Oslo, he asked if we by any chance lived in Majorstua. Helloooo? What are the odds of a NY taxi driver knowing where on earth that is?!

The world surely is a strange place.

We are now somewhere above Canada, and dinner is being served. After waiting in the freezing cold business lounge at Newark for three hours, I think I have caught a cold. I must try to sleep it off.

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