You ever wake up and walk into a room and immediately know that whole plan was a bad idea? Well, that is what it started to feel like in the Land of Gary. I would get up and get ready and think of what I was going to do that day. I was in Iceland, every option seemed like a good choice. Unfortunately, leaving my room was the most painful part. Most mornings it could be avoided by a quick exit to the coffee shop and a nice walk. Don’t get me wrong we had some nice walks, Gary, Gwendolyn and I. Especially, grocery shopping day. It seemed by that day he had finally let go of his Robin obsession. We actually had pleasurable stroll through the streets of Iceland trying to find the local’s grocery store.
When I cook dinners I try as hard as I can to use local ingredients. Mainly for two reasons. 1. So that the locals aren’t put off too much with a new style of food 2. It is usually the more economic option. Due to the fact Iceland is a remote Island, local shopping is a life saver. Beef and pork are not the cheapest options but Icelandic lamb is readily available and something I couldn’t even imagine being able to afford in the states. My favorite place to visit on any of my travels is the grocery store. In San Diego I practically had to be dragged out. What do you expect when you take me to a place that has a ceviche bar bigger than my local deli? Gary wasn’t all bad. He had a local friend who led us to Bonus - a discount grocery store with a pudgy pink pig as it logo. I saw that pig and knew I had found home. My Piggly Wiggly Icelandic cousin did not disappoint. We had a nice time shopping. There was the odd call to his friend to help us “shop”. Nothing against her, she was a very nice lady. I just don’t understand taking up her time to show her off to us. Sorry Gary, first I can recognize most things by sight, I wasn’t shopping in some remote village in Papua, New Guinea. My theory is if the store has Pringles there is a strong chance you will be find stuff on your own. Also, they have these weird phone like devices in which you can use this highly complicated app thing that translates words. I know crazy! Sometimes the thing actually rings announcing an attempt of contact from fellow human beings. After we finished shopping Gary’s friend was very nice and drove us and our bags home. Being a Southerner, I, of course, invited her to dinner and off we went to never venture into normalcy again.
As we unload he says it, “So, I told Helga about what’s happened and I may go stay with he.r” Why Gary? Why? Seriously, do you really feel this victimized? Also, let me point out that it is not really a threat. Hmm, who is the only person causing problems and won’t stop starting shit? Yeah, that’s the one we desperately want to stay. I have children man, those are the only annoying people I enjoy having around. Unless you magically turn into my seven year old with her giant hippo unicorn named “Little Taco” feel free to sit in the middle of nowhere with your cruise ship bestie.
Feeling the need to escape I head out with Robin - I know shocker -to The Drunk Rabbit. This night we met a gentleman we will refer to as “The Professor.” You guessed it, he had that serious expression topped with wire rimmed glasses and a scarf wrapped around his neck as only non-Americans can do. Why can we never do this? What is this strange scarf wearing talent we missed out on? At the end of night he invited us for nightcaps at his house. Of course, we aren’t ones to turn down a new adventure so off we go. His apartment was everything I imagined I wanted a college professor home to be when I was in college. Books and albums as far as the eye could see. A small place with the faint smell of cigarette smoke in the air. As they visited I leapt right into the vortex of his collection. I have not seen a collection this inspired in a long time. This tiny apartment had new knowledge in every nook and cranny. I couldn’t help but think “Where were you when I was a college student?” I would have found this so romantic. Imagining days and nights of laying around half naked listening to records and reading books. Stopping only to go on walks to our favorite coffee shops and watch one our friends perform a one man show. Something happened in these 20 years. I don’t see the romance anymore. I see the laundry in the corner, the lack of a place to go if you pull some annoying man shit, the fact that you aren’t really a professor and as interesting as you are is this really where I would want to wake up every morning? It made me sad at first then I realized maybe it is not a lack of romance. Could it be that I realized I don’t need to be with someone who is interesting because damm it, I am interesting? I don’t need to put imaginary romance somewhere it doesn’t belong. I may be older now but I relish the thought of me sitting half naked listening to my music, only getting dressed to visit my local coffee shop. Let’s add that as we went to leave he lunged at me like a fish looking for air and my face was the only source available. Being the always awkward soul that I am. I push him away give him a quick hug and then felt guilty and invited him to dinner. I think I shook his hand goodbye, I am not quite sure because once I feel uncomfortable I try to escape like a rat on a sinking boat. Let’s see, does this mean I have lost my romance or I have always been an awkward quirky mess that has made all ideas of romance a great big fantasy? Hard to be romantic with a spastic women trying to claw her way out your embrace.
You think Robin would have had sympathy and just walked home with me quietly. I don’t know why you would think that. She would never turn down the chance to laugh hysterically at my insanity. We were barely a block down the road before she bent over in guttural laughter, “Girl, what is wrong with you? You should have seen yourself. That man came at you and you starting backing up like he was going to stab you then you turned around and invited him for dinner.” “I felt bad, he isn’t coming to dinner“ I said. “Yes he is. That man looks at you like you are dessert. He is coming to dinner.” Well guess who was right? One clue it wasn’t me.