Iceland Airlines: Frozen in Memory
"Quick, where's Joyce's phone number? Joyce, turn on WHYY RIGHT
NOW. They're doing a thing on Icelandic Airlines in the 60's.
BYE."
The story brought back a lot of memories, and I'm really sad to
hear that Luxembourg is being given short shrift. It's really
worth visiting. Here are a few of the highlights of what
Icelandic gave me.
In 1971 Joyce and I found out that we could get International
Student ID cards that would give us access to cheap
transportation all over Europe. I still have the picture from
mine. Aviator glasses, hair parted in the middle, practically
waist length. And the best part was that we could fly over
there for ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE DOLLARS. It was incredibly
cheap compared to anything else, but even that was a lot of
money for me at the time, Joyce really wanted to go, so somehow
I scraped it together.
It was a wonderful experience, and if it hadn't been for
Icelandic, I would never have been able to go. A hundred and
sixty-five dollars, I always tell people. Can you imagine? Round
trip! It wasn't so much that we were blissed out and looking
for Nirvana, but we did think we were pretty hip and
adventurous. And we had to do SOMETHING in between marches on
Washington.
Your commentator wasn't kidding about that late-night stop in
Reykjavik. I had been asleep; it was dark, and we had to get
off the plane and go into the terminal while the plane refueled.
I don't know how long it lasted, but we weren't allowed to go
anywhere. So we trooped back on, and morning landed us in
Luxembourg. It wouldn't have been on my itinerary if I had been
choosing my destination, but I'm glad I got there. It was my
first view of Europe, and it was beautiful.
My first impression was awe at the age of the buildings we were
seeing on our bus ride into town from the airport. I remember
saying to Joyce, "Just think, most of these buildings are older
than the oldest building we've ever seen at home." That still
hits me often when thinking of differences between American
culture and anyplace over there -- that sudden awareness of how
young a country we are.
We did a lot of train travel and a lot of hitchhiking. One
young French guy in a microbus kind of thing insisted on taking
us home to meet his wife and having something to eat, even
though our ability to communicate was largely gesture. Boy,
were we living!
We had a copy of "Europe on $5.00 a day", which came in handy in
more than one way. We were coming out of the train station in
Luzern, Switzerland, feeling like Sherpas with our thousand-
pound backpacks strapped on so we could keep our hands free,
when I realized that Joyce wasn't walking alongside me. I
turned around to see her standing several yards behind me with a
stunned expression on her face.
"This guy just came walking right up to me, ran his hands up my
breasts and kept going." "WHAT MAN? WHERE?" "Him, the one with
the raincoat, heading to the train." Now, I'm about 5'2", but
don't get me mad. I strode up to and past this creep, turned to
come towards him, and whacked him with that thick guidebook I
had been consulting to find someplace cheap to eat. "DON'T YOU
EVER DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT AGAIN." And I just kept going and
didn't look back.
The cheapest joint we could find for dinner was called the SANS
ALCOOL, which we somehow deduced while dining was some kind of
mission to alcoholics. The spaghetti wasn't bad anyway.
We took a lift partway up the Matterhorn, we eventually made it
to Paris, which is another whole story, and then we hooked up
with people we had been corresponding with who lived in London.
I could keep going on, but the real point is that a lot of us
shared adventures in those times that we owe to Icelandic. My
memories of that trip are always accompanied by thanks to the
airline for allowing me to do things that I loved and still
reminisce about. Obviously, I'm not alone.
-Rachel
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