Nightglow Window

Sweden

Sleep has turned into a wily opponent as my circadian clock weathers the assault of jet lag. Two hard and blissful hours of sleep end at one o’clock with worries about getting to the airport in the morning. I toss and turn. Christy is awake too, but manages to drift off again after an hour or so. My alarm clock on my cell phone startles me awake at 4:30, interrupting dreams of work. Most unpleasant.

It’s already light outside on this warm summer’s morning; another day of heat is on the way. Our cab arrives on time and we trade conversation with the Nigerian at the wheel, heavy accent keeping us apart. The morning is soft pastel, the streets empty, as we head up through the neighborhood of London Bridge and then across the Thames to The City -- views of Tower Bridge and the Tower Of London near at hand on our right, St Paul’s large dome in the middle distance on our left.

It cost 15£ for the taxi, but the views are worth it, I snap a few photos. We planned to take the 6:10 a.m. express to Stansted Airport, but we’re early and squeeze onto the 5:30 just in the nick of time. The compartment is crowded with sleepy faces.

Stansted is a 45-minute train ride outside the city and is home to Ryanair, “The Low Fares Airline.” Here’s one case of truth in advertising. We could have spent about $1,800 a person flying directly into Sweden, then Barcelona, then home. Instead, the trip costs about $1,200 a person and gives us two nights in London. We can do a lot with that $1,200 total savings, and the whole Ryanair experience is unique as well.

This is truly a flying bus, where the amenities are absolutely bare bones. The seats don’t recline, and there’s no little pouch for the in-flight magazine and barf bag. Seating is first-come, first-served and there’s no jetway onto the planes, only stairs. Inside it’s garish; bright yellow and blue and everything costs. You want a soda? Fork over a few Euros.

But it’s really, really cheap. The flight from London to Stockholm cost 29£, or about $60 bucks. That’s like flying from San Diego to Portland. So you suck it up and take the hassles and pocket the cash.

Excited to see Barry and Liv, who will meet us once we land (I’m writing this while flying over the North Sea). Barry is one of those friends Wind, Sand, and Stars talks about—a comrade somewhere “out there” who remains steadfast in friendship. We’ve known each other a long time now, twenty years. He was my first art director at BodyBoarding magazine. He all 80s style, me still green. We’ve been friends ever since. He was in my wedding, and we’ve seen much together.

April, 1994

It was the morning of my wedding and the butterflies were battering my ribcage. I was eggy beyond belief and looking to kill time. The ceremony was at San Celemente's Casa Romantica and the day dawned bright and sunny—a big relief after the rain of the day before. I had a rental car that I would drop off the following morning as Christy and I flew out to the Cayman Islands. It was a white Volvo.

Barry, John Stannard, and I went out driving to kill time in the morning. I had control of the windows and Barry and John were bouncing around inside the car, excited for me. Barry was screaming at me, “Dad! Dad! Let me lower the window. Let me lower the window.” We were getting on the freeway in San Clemente by City Hall and I relented, pushing the button that gave him window control.

Not two seconds after I had pushed the button, Barry rolled it down, stuck his head far out the window, and screamed “Busted!!” at the top of his lungs to a CHP giving a ticket. The cop jumps into his car and peels out after us, lights flashing. I, in disbelief, scowl at Barry and huff: “If I’m late for my wedding because of this, you’re dead man.”

Full panic sets in as I get off the freeway at Pico, the cop behind us. I pull into a parking spot and he blocks us in. Barry gets out of the car. Words are exchanged.

“Yes,” says Barry, taking his first bite of humble pie, “I know that was stupid.”

“Yes,” he says, “I know I was acting like a four year old.” Barry rolls over like a dog showing its soft belly to the alpha wolf and, satisfied, the cop lets us go.

There are more stories, too many to count. “Get out of the tent Barry!” The trip to Georgia and the Smokey Mountains. Those parties on Balboa Island and all the countless times we got together at the Villa La Jolla apartments when the circle of friends was perfect, never to be duplicated or matched again. I miss him and those times, but am looking forward to seeing the life he has built.

He and Liv are a good example of the power of Love. They met in Florence, Italy (a trip Barry made with Brian) seven years ago. She, a young filmmaker from Stockholm. He, a graphic designer in Santa Monica. The distance was great, but so were their feelings for each other.

Over the course of the next year, they saw each other every month. He would fly to Sweden or Spain, she would fly to L.A., or they would meet in New York. Seems like long-distance courtship worked in this instance, and finally he agreed to move to Sweden and begin a new chapter. I’m really excited for them and their wedding tomorrow.

The landing was uneventful. Sweden is green and trim and very beautiful. Ryanair, “The Low Fares Airline,” lands at an airport 90 minutes away from Stockholm in Skavsta, so we load onto a bus and head northeast. The countryside is great, but I can’t keep my eyes open and sleep most of the way.

The heat wave is here as well and our first impression of Stockholm is that of blue water, blue skies, a bright sun, many boats, and clean apartment blocks where the grass out front is clogged with sunbathers. Barry meets us at the central station and we jump on the subway to our hotel.

Stockholm is beautiful and the people (no duh) are beautiful as well. The hotel is small and set near a park, We chat with Barry for a while about his impending nuptials, the honeymoon, and life in general. Then he heads back to the planning zone and Christy and I take a walk through the park, grab some lunch at a small outdoor restaurant, and then make a long stroll around the south island. Still haven’t pieced it together what it reminds me of, but I like it.

Christy and I came back to the hotel and eventually took a nap (she’s still asleep). We’re meeting Barry and Liv and the rest of the crew in about an hour for a medieval dinner. Should be interesting. Maybe more later.

---Later ----

Dinner was a heck of a lot of fun.

It was at medevial-themed restaurant, which sounds cheesy, I know, but it really wasn't. The dining room was lit solely by candles and the food was good. The ceiling was black with soot and candle wax was everywhere. I screwed around with the lowlight setting on my camera and got a nice buzz off the mead (which did taste a bit like Guiness). Really missed Brian tonight.

Liv stayed home and had a quiet night, which was super smart.

Christy and I shared a chicken and drank mead. Julien, who will perform the wedding ceremony tomorrow, seems like a really nice guy. Bryan Sierra (of Crystal and Bryan fame, not Brian Harrower) was there too. It had been about ten years since I've seen him, and he's as easy going as ever. So, all in all it was a fun night. Tired now.

The restaurant was in the Old Town of Stockholm and we took a stroll after dinner. Still twilight here at 11:30 at night. Here are some photos of the evening. I'm off to bed.