The B757 “Askja” that will take me to Iceland.

The view from 30A immediately prior to departure.

7 October, 2013 1800 mst

Thirty minutes out of Denver, 37000 feet above the plains of western Nebraska. Out my window I can see a contrail racing along with us in its never ending attempt to catch the Rolls-Royce turbofan that is propelling us north into the night. The seat’s not bad, though much farther back in the plane than I typically prefer. In front of me is a seatback entertainment system that deserves and award for the fact that there is a USB port next to the screen. It is for a game controller, but I will use it for power. I boarded this flight with barely half a charge remaining in my phone. After not finding an outlet anywhere to use at DIA, I am relieved that I will arrive at Keflavik with a full charge.

 

The couple next to me is headed for a vacation in Iceland from Fairplay. They are watching videos about the culture and attractions in Iceland. I am sure I will get to those at some point in the next five and a half hours. As I write I am watching the detailed map of our location and occasionally checking out the window for what it says we are passing over. Six miles below and to the west are the South Dakota Badlands. Beyond there, obscured by the clouds, the Black Hills lie buried in snow from the weekends’ blizzard. On my headset, the melodic cacophony and orchestrated musical madness that is Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew separates me from the sounds of the cabin.

The sun slips behind the clouds, and we begin our journey into night. I booked a window on the pilot’s side of the plane in hopes of seeing something I have never seen before – the Northern Lights. I hope to get some photos from the airplane.

Beverage service nears my row from the aft. From the front of the cabin the sandwich that will be mine slowly makes its way down the aisle. Outside the window, the contrail keeps pace as daylight fades. Five thousand kilometers to touchdown.