Berlin epilogue II: getting home

Okay, I jinxed it. No, there weren't any disasters, just a bunch of sudden and unwelcome stress.

Icelandair gets a big black mark for their computer system. Specifically, we got to the airport roughly the recommended three hours ahead of time. And as we were walking to the checkin line, I got a text message saying that our seats had been changed from 11A and B (window and aisle, reasonably nice seats that we had booked months ago) to 35C and 36C (middle of the place, not together, seriously sub-optimal for a six hour flight home).

Suffice it to say that I kind of lost my shit, all the moreso when the lady tending the line responded that they were absolutely within their legal rights to do this. Which is true, but not exactly a good customer service message.

Fortunately, the lady at baggage check, who checked us in, took the problem seriously, apologized, and spent about five minutes figuring out how to get us 34A and B -- not quite as good as what we had booked, but at least decent. I'm still annoyed at the airline (and given how expensive Reykjavik is, not especially inclined to take it again), but she at least deserves kudos.

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Reykjavik airport does have a lovely, huge duty-free, full of all sorts of fun toys. I got a bunch of nips of random Icelandic booze to sample. No, I didn't drink them all on the spot, but it was tempting.

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Stress, part 2: just when my blood pressure had calmed down, we got to the automated gates where you scan your boarding pass to get into the actual gate area. My luck being what it was on Saturday, instead of the nice friendly green checkmark I got a bright flashing red X. Yes, I had been chosen for a random TSA search. Yay.

(A TSA search in Europe? I dunno, but that's what they said it was.)

To be fair, they were very professional, and impressively efficient. But having to have all of my bags opened and searched, and my body swabbed all over, while I was already stressed about running a little bit late getting to the gate, did nothing to help my mood.

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From there, the flight itself was pretty uneventful. Remarkably cramped seats, and an older couple behind us who could only talk to each other by shouting loudly, but as flights go, not horrible.

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Let's end on a happier note: lunch. I had forgotten to mention, in my previous entry, that we had had lunch on Friday at the Sandholt, a couple of blocks from our hotel. This was mostly a testimony to the power of a good advertising board on the sidewalk: they listed a sourdough Croque Madame, which kind of jumped out and grabbed me, yelling "Lunch! Luuuuunch!"

It's a lovely if slightly chaotic bakery and brunch place. On Friday I had that sandwich -- wide slabs of deeply toasted sourdough with ham and buttery cheese, a fried egg on top and a side salad, all of which is right up my alley: it was pretty great. And Kate had the Duck Rillete "hamburger", which was nothing at all like a hamburger but was seriously tasty. All of which was good enough that we had the same for lunch on Saturday, along with a big glass of their local-brew Currant and Lime Soda (delish), and a pair of big sweet cinnamon rolls for dessert on the plane.

So that gets a solid recommendation, if you find yourself in town. They serve breakfast until 11:30, lunch thereafter, and everything we had was seriously tasty.