Why did I eat that doughnut? Why? What possessed me? I knew it looked sketchy, all sealed up in that plastic bag with a giant smiley face stamped on the front. My innards are so not smiling. Why couldn’t the flight attendants serve something real for breakfast? Like pancakes and peanut butter? Oh, man…I’m scared I’m going to have an airplane lavatory emergency…

I’m just going to write and ignore it. We’re going to land soon. Everything will be fine.

You’re probably wondering why I’m keeping a journal in the first place (whoever you are). Well, I’m leaving the country—leaving Urbana, Illinois, actually—for the first time in my life. I’m braving airplane rides and sketchy doughnuts to find adventure, at last. I’m off to Norway! The land of trolls, fjords, magic, new beginnings…

Oh, man. I don’t feel good. But we’re landing…

Not good.

Rushing to the lavatory while the plane is hitting the ground is much more exciting than I would’ve thought. I had to hang onto the rail and sink for dear life with my pants around my ankles as the plane bounced to a careening halt on the runway. I almost dropped my glasses down the toilet. Luckily, I feel much better now. I kicked open the lavatory door before the plane was completely stopped, made a flight attendant scream, and hurtled to my seat, where I buckled up and pretended like I’d been sitting the whole time.

It’s lucky I went when I did. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one affected by those doughnuts. When I got to baggage claim, crowds of people were shoving past each other to get to the bathrooms. I think there were laxatives in those things.

Anyway, if I’d been rushing to the bathroom then, I wouldn’t have seen the short, smiling lady, holding a sign that proclaimed, “Welcome Ellie Steelhart!”

I straightened my glasses and strode to meet her, trying not to gape. She looked like…like a creature from Norwegian lore. White hair puffed around her head like a mushroom cap. Her nose, pickled and ballooned, stretched out over a smile that reminded me of grandmothers and kindly old neighbors who bake cookies for the local kids. Only, since she looked she crawled out of a toadstool, I imagined she baked for the local gnomes. Read More »