not quite sleeping in airports

I had not yet received an itinerary for our flight to the UK. In hind sight I probably should have double checked before our departure date but I was way too busy dog sledding and chasing fairy lights. After working out we had no way to contact RyanAir, we fiddled around on our two free hours of wi-fi (thanks Oslo) and Googled our case. We made a collective decision to just go to Rygge airport, talk to them in person and (*insert gasp here*), sleep in the airport. With a hostel bed costing over $40 each we were happy to pick coin over comfort.

The only problem with our booking was that I put the wrong email address. Yes, I blamed RyanAir all day. I’m pretty sure its still their fault in some way but I am willing to forgive and forget. So by the time that settled (a whole 20 minutes later) we had another 24 hours to waste. Since we had already mentally prepared ourselves for spending the night, including mandatory research on the ‘sleeping in airports’ website (quite a useful resource), we sought out the best seat in the house and watched a movie.

I’d argue that a facebook status is only a success if there is an outcome. After 2 minutes of posting that we were about to pop our sleeping in airports cherry, our host from Oslo told us he wouldn’t have it. Another 15 minutes went by, after which I received a message stating that he had a friend who lived nearby; his name was Michel and he would pick us up out the front straightaway.

Mai and I went through all of the scenarios while waiting and were trying to pick who it would be from the crowd. The old seedy guy pacing back and forth gave us a look, the group of younger guys walked passed and gave us a look, the white transporter parked out front didn’t quite give us  look but you get the gist. The plan was that Mai would light a smoke as he arrived,  we would just chat to him for a bit to suss out his character and If we didn’t like him we could refuse the offer. It was genius.  After the white transporter, a black transporter pulled up and a young, blonde, typical Norwegian looking dude bounced out,  brightly introduced himself and packed our bags I the boot. Without question we jumped in.

Driving through the dark woods in a dark van with a  complete stranger could have went horribly wrong (I hope my mother doesn’t read this). We arrived at Michel’s house, which was the Norwegian cottage we could only have dreamt of. It was absolutely stunning. Michel insisted we all cook something from our ‘country’ and he invited his next door neighbours around, who he referred to as ‘his twins’ but they were just twin brothers the same age as him. We didn’t let that statement go unnoticed and had a laugh. We all spent the evening eating, drinking and sharing our favourite music on youtube.

Feeling refreshed after a perfect sleep, Mai and I woke to the sound of Michel preparing a full traditional Norwegian breakfast; boiled eggs, cheese, bread, yogurt, cereal, juice, tea, coffee…the whole spread. It was unbelievable. The twins came back over and we had a nice long, relaxing breakfast, chatting about all the good things in life. Mai and I packed, Michel drove us to the airport, and that was that!. It couldn’t have turned out any better and if it had turned out worse I probably wouldn’t be writing this. Michel was an amazing host, we are forever grateful for his random act of kindness and are glad we inspired him to travel J