Now All We Have Left is the Icing

As we squeezed into our seats on IcelandAir, I began to bemoan the "good old days" when passengers had plenty of room for their feet, airlines served meals, and smoking was allowed . . . Oh wait.  Forget that last one.  Do not miss that one for sure.

Anyway, I was able to switch seats with the man who would have been in the window seat, as I wanted to look for auroras.  He was more than happy to switch, as he prefers the aisle seat, so only Don was unhappy, since he went from an aisle to the middle.  Too bad . . . he was outvoted.

We began to suspect the flight was going to be a little unpleasant when we were all very warm, despite the air blowing.  Before the end of the flight, I was sweating like crazy.  And then there was the fact that we had to pay for a meal, and it wasn't cheap.  But it was not too bad, and we did get a fresh banana.  And finally there was the little girl sitting in the seat ahead of us.  Yikes.  More than once I wanted to tell her mother that all she needed was a little backbone to enforce the word no . . . But I was civil and did not say anything.  I fear that mother is headed for a train wreck.

About three hours into the flight, Don got up to stretch his legs.  I had been looking for the auroras and had not seen any.  After he got out, I looked outside again, and there it was . . . A white sheet hanging out of the sky, suspended in mid-air with streaks of thread annunciated.  Or at least that is what it looked like.  Then it began to dance around, looking like the Mitch Miller bouncing ball.  There was no color to it at all, but for about twenty minutes, Don, our seatmate, the little girl's grandma and I watched until it left.  It was sensational!  

We have no pictures, so we have to see another me before we come home, but last night's show certainly comprised the cake of our adventure, so now all we have left is icing.