3 HMV: Velkommen til Norge
"Klokken tikker og tiden går/Men alt står stille her nå…/Sammen kan vi være perfekt uperfekt/Verden e det vi gjør den til"
Translation: "The clock is ticking and time is passing/But everything is standing still here now…/Together we can be perfectly imperfect/The world is what we make it"
–Stina Talling, song "BlimE (Mer Enn God Nok)"
2 am PDT, Vera Manor, Macy's Bedroom
Macy heard a familiar knock at the door, as she placed a bookmark in her "Heaven's Vice" romance novel. "Come in!" she called out.
Harry strode in, rather bleary-eyed and wearing what appeared to be a tropical lei. "What's that?" Macy tilted her head, peering over her reading glasses examining the curious fauna from where she was sitting on the bed.
"Camp Wanaka welcoming committee," he answered. "In traditional New Zealand spirit, of course. Our daughter's settled in, and the facility seems rather top-notch, if I do say so myself," he added, removing the garland and placing it atop the wooden dresser.
"That's good," murmured Macy. "As for Oslo—"
"I have all our bags in the bedroom closet," Harry pointed to the location, mere feet away. "What time are we expected there, love?"
Macy hesitated, "in two days' time, 6 pm sharp for the faculty dinner, if I remember correctly, speaking of which—" she reached over to her nightstand drawer and pulled out two round-trip tickets. "We'll be needing these. Our flight leaves 2:20 pm from Sea-Tac Airport tomorrow, which means we have to leave here 11 am to brave the lines—"
"But love," Harry said, almost pleadingly. "I'm a Whitelighter, remember? I can get us there and back within milliseconds, we can leave on the day of—"
"NO," said Macy with a certain degree of sternness. "The university committee is rolling out the red carpet for us, and offered us really nice business class seats—it'd be rude to refuse, don't you think?"
"But Macy," Harry beseeched. "Do we have to? The last time I was on a flight was back in 1943, when I was strapped to a parachute atop the Handley Page No. 52 Hampden aircraft, Napier Daggers and all. Being a radio operator was quite stressful, and the pilot was an absolute dunce—"
"Sweetie, all the more reason," Macy replied decisively. "Besides, it'll look suspicious if we show up having bypassed customs for a summer sabbatical, and we'd definitely be injuring American-Norwegian diplomatic relations if we didn't take them up on their generous offer. You can orb Morgana to the Azores if and when the time comes—she's a powerful witch and something tells me she's ok."
Macy paused. "Plus, I think there's something to be said about going on a transatlantic—and dare I say—romantic, thrilling adventure as a couple. I think it'd be really good for us, to embrace the journey too." Harry's eyes softened as he sat next to Macy, ruminating on her words.
"So how about it, Harry? I hear Lufthansa's business class has fancy seats that turn into beds…" she trailed off, peering up expectantly.
"Oh, really?" asked Harry. Despite his reservations at putting aside his Whitelighter orbing abilities, he was nevertheless intrigued by the thought of a comfortable bed 31,000 feet above the earth, besides the importance of maintaining appearances and rekindling romance in one's married life. "My, how fascinating! Technology has certainly advanced considerably…"
Macy grinned. "So, is that a yes?"
Harry sighed, realizing he'd been bested, and bent forward to kiss his wife. "Dr. Valensi, it's most certainly a yes."
Noon, Next Day, Sea-Tac Airport, Queuing
Harry checked his timepiece and surveyed the line in front of him—nearly one hundred people by the looks of it—all queuing up in front of large cylindrical machines that reminded him of science fiction TV advertisements. "Macy, love," he whispered anxiously in his ear, pointing at the large machinery. "What is that?"
"Security measures," Macy gave him a strange look, then realized that Harry hadn't been to the insides of an airport in decades. "Um…sweetie, things've changed a lot since you last flew—"
"Clearly," Harry replied, as they inched forward. The one bright spot was the automatic ticketing line earlier, where they dropped off their luggage to be picked up at their destination, and the silent thrill Harry had when the front desk assistant scanned their IDs and wished "Dr. and Mr. Valensi safe and happy travels." Dr. and Mr. Valensi. It almost seemed like it was yesterday he was waiting at the front of the aisle at Vera Manor Garden for his blushing bride, her diaphanous gown draped over the blossoming bump that eventually became their firstborn, Maya.
1 pm, Sea-Tac Airport, Hallway
The crowds upon crowds of people were beginning to make Harry perspire, as he pulled uncomfortably at his heavily-starched linen shirt collar. He hadn't realized how popular air travel had become, nor had he realized just how enormous the airport was. They had passed at least ten separate gates within a specific subdivision of the building, taken two moving walkways, and they still hadn't arrived at their listed terminal. "Mace, are we there yet?" he complained, as they took a third moving walkway past a row of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking accordion-shaped halls connecting terminals to their airplanes. "Can't I just duck into a corner," he pointed to a shadowed portion of a side hallway, "and orb us a bit?"
Macy shook her head. "Just a bit further," she responded, wondering, not for the first time that day, whether it would've been easier for her sanity to have Harry orb there while she traveled the length of the terminal in peace. Alas, hindsight was 20/20.
1:20 pm, Sea-Tac Airport, Terminal Seating Area
They finally arrived at the terminal seating area; according to the signage, the flight would commence boarding at 1:45. "Love, I might go grab a bottle of water from the shop," Harry said, pointing to the newspaper shop a few paces away.
"Ok," responded Macy, "but don't wander off for too long—they're boarding on time, with or without us."
"Roger that," Harry responded, kissing Macy and proceeding toward the brightly-lit shop.
1:35 pm, Sea-Tac Airport, Terminal Seating Area
Macy checked her phone. Boarding would start in ten minutes—where on earth was her husband? As if in answer, Harry appeared, two bottles of water in hand, one for himself and the other for his wife. "How could they sell two bottles of water for eight dollars each?" he exclaimed indignantly. "And trail mix for ten dollars? It's highway robbery!"
"Dear," Macy responded, fighting the urge to laugh, "this is how airports make money. That's why," she unzipped her large purse, "I always bring my own thermos, fresh fruit, cookies, trail mix, and teabags. Biscuit?" Macy offered Harry one of his favorite teatime cookies, and he grinned.
"What on earth would I do without you, love?" he asked, between bites of the buttery shortbread. Macy grinned, finding the scenario unfolding in front of her rather amusing.
4 pm, Lufthansa LH 491, Airbus A340, Business Class
Macy retrieved her "Heaven's Vice" romance novel from her purse and began to read from where she last left off; Harry was busy admiring the spacious seating, the modern amenities (USB outlets, on-demand video and music entertainment), and the free snacks and drinks offered by the attentive stewardesses. He looked over, skimming the title of Macy's novel; he nearly made a face, but restrained himself, conscious of the fact that Macy had patiently put up with his childish antics for the past few hours. It was the least he could do, he figured, letting her have her romantic fantasies of this, that, and the other buff angel permeating her dreams as of late. He could have sworn he heard her murmur "Oh, Gideon," the night before. Would it were him instead, he silently lamented. Perhaps this trip to Norway could act as a later-in-life honeymoon of sorts?
5 pm/2 am GMT+2, Lufthansa LH 491, Airbus A340, Business Class
Harry decided to review his Norwegian language guidebook for the time being, though he recalled his wife telling him earlier in the week that 68% of Norwegians spoke English, and that in the city of Oslo, 100% of its inhabitants had full comprehension of the language. He plugged in his earbuds and turned the in-flight entertainment to the music video channel, where a Norwegian singer named Stina Talling belted out an optimistic, upbeat song entitled "BlimE (Mer Enn God Nok)." According to the pop star's interview that followed, its pure-hearted lyrics spoke of optimism, being "together, perfectly imperfect," and that the world was one's oyster. Parents often sang the song with their kids when driving them to school, apparently. How sweet, he smiled, thinking of Maya, Henry, and Matilda's childhood growing up together in Vera Manor and at Epicenter Pico No. 23 in the Azores Islands.
7 pm/4 am GMT+2, Lufthansa LH 491, Airbus A340, Business Class
Dinner arrived on elegant ceramic dishware, consisting of a small loaf of grain bread, cold pickled Nordic vegetables, and slices of butterflied chicken in a brown stewed sauce covered in a layer of lentils. There was a small side of fruit—pineapples and a smattering of blueberries, with utensils and a cloth napkin in a paper seal. Fancy, Harry thought to himself as he and Macy tucked into their respective meals, she with her small glass of ginger ale, and him with a cup of piping Earl Grey tea, which to his delight was provided to him free of charge (unlike the kiosk shop earlier in SeaTac).
The couple enjoyed a small after-dinner drink amongst themselves, a decaf vegan Irish coffee. Who knew there was such a thing? Harry mused to himself as he stirred the almond milk-based whipped cream, feeding a spoonful to Macy, whose tongue lapped up the frothy substance, her eyes meeting his in a saucy, almost seductive manner, if he didn't know any better. Her dairy allergy often meant that they were unable to share their favorite drinks—as couples would often do. It really was the little things, after all, Harry smiled to himself as he stroked Macy's curls sometime later, as they gazed out the airplane window into the tangerine-flamingo hues of the fast-approaching sunset.
10 pm/7 am GMT+2, Lufthansa LH 491, Airbus A340, Business Class
"Guess we should get to sleep," Macy murmured in Harry's ear, who agreed. How exactly did this bed turn-down service work? he wondered to himself, then found a miniature remote, which flattened his seat, moving it forward in the process. Macy found a remote identical to his in front of her and pressed on the same keypads. Absolutely brilliant, Harry thought to himself, surveying the pocket notebook, facial cream, toothpaste, and toothbrush the airline had provided to each of them when they had first arrived at their seats. The restrooms were private and quite pristine, he observed, as he brushed his teeth alongside Macy.
6 am/3 pm GMT+2, Lufthansa LH 491, Airbus A340, Business Class
"Harry—Harry!" Macy shook her husband until he awoke. "We've arrived!" They looked out the window to find the airplane parking in a terminal of Oslo Airport.
"Velkommen til Norge! Welcome to Norway!" the captain announced on the overhead loudspeaker. "Thank you for traveling with Lufthansa, and we hope you have a safe and happy rest of your journey."
After a quick trip to the restroom to freshen themselves up, brush their teeth, (and in Macy's case, put on a bit of eyeliner and lipstick), Harry and Macy returned to their seats. In no time at all, the "fasten seatbelt" sign disappeared, and the terminal door opened. They had arrived at last.
"You know," remarked Harry casually as they walked out into the adjoining airport, "we really should do this more often."