Here’s the thing, Houston is damn hot. Like, boob-sweat-we-don’t-take-cash-from-your-bra hot. So when your sister recommends you take a peek at Iceland for a summer getaway, you listen.

We are currently on the plane to the land of Northern Lights. And raging nightlife, they say. Much good it will do us. We may go crazy and stay up till like 11, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Before we can enjoy our glacier-adjacent fun, we have to make it past the flight attendants, checked baggage and drooling while sleeping from other passengers. Soopah fun.

But imagine our delight to land in this pristine and friendly country with baggage claims that are the epitome of kindness and efficiency. They stop short of putting the bag on the belt and wait for the next available slot. Sooo polite! So far, we love it here. Except for the frequent arctic blasts!