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reading:
the hours michael cunningham
1999 july 01icelanddid i ever tell you i was banned from iceland?
needless to say, they did not remain white for long. within an hour or two of leaving new york city my sister and i had wreaked such havoc on the plane, the stewardesses [this was before the days of flight attendants] were threatening to open the hatch and pitch us out into the north atlantic ocean. we'd run up and down the aisles, we'd crawled underneath all the seats, popping out between strangers' feet in a shriek of giggles. included with our dinners were little containers of italian salad dressing, little containers we immediately ripped the tops of off so we could joyfully fling the contents over our heads and onto the people in the three rows behind us. we sang jingle bells, it was the middle of april, at the top of our lungs. i am almost embarrassed recounting this little escapade. imagine the mortification of my poor mother, who desperately tried to keep us quietly in our seats. eventually she feigned sleep, covers pulled over her head, hoping against all hope that we would wear ourselves out in as short a time as possible. when we got off the plane in iceland, we were very coldly informed that while they had an obligation to see us to our final destination, we would no longer be welcome on their friendly little airline. nor would it be a good idea to think about visiting iceland anytime soon, as they had a long memory. i've wanted to go to iceland for quite a while but i am afraid that once i arrive at icelandic customs, they will look at my passport, check it against some master list, and tell me, "i'm sorry, you'll have to go to the holding area until the next flight out. you're still not welcome here."
nine years ago, sometime this month, i was divorced. i can barely relate to the person i was when i was married, nor even the person i was when i divorced. i can tell stories of those years, but i might as well be telling the stories of an acquaintance for all the emotion i feel when doing so. it's like that whole part of my life, my world, my being, is locked away in a deep freeze somewhere. cool, as usual, claire
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when i was four and jubilee two, my mother decided to take us to germany to visit the rest of the family. the cheapest fare was on icelandic air, with a layover in reykjavik, and as money was rather tight in those days, that's the flight we took. my mother, operating under a delusion, believed the thrill of international travel and the newness of being on a plane would subdue the two of us and she dressed us in little matching outfits, outfits that included white skirts.
