The nondescript arrival of autumn brought not idyllic setting but the much dreaded Indian summer. The stifling dry heat during day time so irritable to my nerves and senses that I can't concentrate on reading, and whatever was read was consumed on facile understanding. As I await for the advent of the cooler evening air to chase away the insufferable, there on my iBook screen appeared felicitously a banner for an advertisement for midweek getaway to Iceland. This truly aroused the little bourgeois itch inside of me, to emancipate from the world of sameness that I now reside, even if it mean to upset my financial stability in the short term.
My best chance of getting away is the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday that is to afford me four days off from work, by which an additional sick-day or two I would be able to pull this little scheme off. Yet as I envelope myself in resplendent gleefulness, there was something amiss: Everything is sounding too well; a hitch must be hiding in some dark, damp mildew corner, only to strike me at moment of most unsusceptibility. To attest to such inhibition that I hung around my neck as an aphorism, I began my search for airfare and lodging in Reykjavik, and surprisingly the results were most agreeable. Just as my planned trip begun to take shape in the form of actuality, the deity somewhere up in the cloud threw down the thunderbolt, graying my newfound optimism, and issued the edict that my parole had been denied, that I ought to be further imprisoned in suburban hinterland. The trip cannot be realized because, of all things, the Thanksgiving holiday.
What had originally been the initiative of the trip turns out to be in itself the slaughterer of hope. The leaving for Reykjavik requires takeoff at either New York's JFK airport or Boston, thus requiring my buying a domestic air ticket to the east coast. Normally a trip across the spacious nation is priced at around $200 to $250, plus all that weighty taxes going to the Homeland Security. But at such given time as the Thanksgiving, every single seat on the airplane will succumb to hyper inflation and priced over $500, before adding taxes (and I am only speaking about the budget airlines). The extra markup ruined entirely of my carefully planned expenditure and rendering it too expensive for the relative short stay in Iceland. As you can guess it, gloom can always find a way to attach on to my shoulder.
My best chance of getting away is the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday that is to afford me four days off from work, by which an additional sick-day or two I would be able to pull this little scheme off. Yet as I envelope myself in resplendent gleefulness, there was something amiss: Everything is sounding too well; a hitch must be hiding in some dark, damp mildew corner, only to strike me at moment of most unsusceptibility. To attest to such inhibition that I hung around my neck as an aphorism, I began my search for airfare and lodging in Reykjavik, and surprisingly the results were most agreeable. Just as my planned trip begun to take shape in the form of actuality, the deity somewhere up in the cloud threw down the thunderbolt, graying my newfound optimism, and issued the edict that my parole had been denied, that I ought to be further imprisoned in suburban hinterland. The trip cannot be realized because, of all things, the Thanksgiving holiday.
What had originally been the initiative of the trip turns out to be in itself the slaughterer of hope. The leaving for Reykjavik requires takeoff at either New York's JFK airport or Boston, thus requiring my buying a domestic air ticket to the east coast. Normally a trip across the spacious nation is priced at around $200 to $250, plus all that weighty taxes going to the Homeland Security. But at such given time as the Thanksgiving, every single seat on the airplane will succumb to hyper inflation and priced over $500, before adding taxes (and I am only speaking about the budget airlines). The extra markup ruined entirely of my carefully planned expenditure and rendering it too expensive for the relative short stay in Iceland. As you can guess it, gloom can always find a way to attach on to my shoulder.
posted by Michelin L.W.Y at 9/29/2005 11:49:00 PM
1 Comments:
Now that you bring it up, Iceland does have some appeal. What I would give for a good snowstorm!
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