January 1, 2024 7:04 AM: Omar’s eyes shoot open and he proclaims to his still sleeping wife, “I need to ride my bicycle on a volcano in Iceland!”
Kat rolls her eyes. Said gesture might have been more effective if she was facing him or her eyelids were open.
[SUDDEN LOUD VINYL RECORD SCRATCHING NOISE] Reality check: this is NOT how it “HAPPENED”, but rather how it FEELS like it SHOULD have happened. Four years ago we planned a complete trip to Iceland when, for reasons that escape my mind at the moment, a recreational international travel ban forced us to stay home. In November (when I have to pick my vacation weeks for the next year) we decided to dust off this itinerary and give it another shot. More on the actual trip later on in the letter.
While I’m on the topic of things that didn’t actually happen in 2024, I bought a Tesla Model 3 at the very end of 2023. I ran some calculations, and apparently I would be turning 50 in April and had yet to buy a mid-life crisis vehicle. The upside to putting this off for so long is that I am now going to live to be exactly 100 years old. If you are expecting an extensive argument of why I made this particular automobile choice I would strongly recommend temporarily switching over to Elon Musk’s Christmas Letter. I am really enjoying the car and my family is more than happy with the extensive list of new rules I’ve established starting with “No farting in the Tesla!”
So more on this turning 50 thing– while I’m generally not one to celebrate my own birthday, the fact that my age is divisible by five AND two seems like a good reason to make an exception to this rule. My first idea was to recreate “Encounter at Farpoint” (the pilot episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, obviously) where I would play the omnipotent “Q” and place my friends and family on trial for the crimes of all humanity. While in many, many ways this really is the best idea that has ever been outputted from my brain matrix, I did compromise a bit and settled on a more modest “game afternoon” theme. The event went well and Isabel and I both sang our favorite (different) “Free Credit Report” jingles. I sang the original pirate version and Isabel preferred the roller coaster lyrics. And, yes, for those who were at my wedding, it was the same version I sang when I managed to control the microphone during the reception.
Welcome to “later on in the letter.” Moving up from the Iceland trip past-past to the past-now, we spent 10 days driving around a small island in the northern Atlantic.
The scenery of Iceland was nothing short of amazing. I would stand in places outdoors and think I was looking at a hand-painted matte print from an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Since our trip included the summer solstice we had the experience of it not ever being night time– so I guess technically we were only there for one day. Basically every movie and television show that is awesome was filmed in this country. If only Breaking Bad could have found a way to film here…
So while I was writing this letter I placed a cup of coffee on the table next to my chair before I sat down. Once I got situated with my laptop and put my feet up I tried to reach for the refreshing beverage but it turned out to be just out of my reach. I thought to myself “Man, that cup is REALLY far away.” Then I started thinking about one of the Airbnbs we stayed at in Iceland. Here are the steps to get there:
Drive to Denver International Airport
Fly for seven hours to an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
Take a rental car 400 miles to the less inhabited east side of the country
Turn off the ring highway and drive three miles on the dirt road until you finally go around a turn and a very well appointed building magically appears with a young woman standing there to tell us which room is ours for the night.
Now that, I must say, is REALLY far away.
One final point to wrap up our vacation– no, I didn’t ride my bike on a volcano. First of all there was the cost of getting my bike there, and next was the logistics of moving my bike around the whole time, and finally, and probably most importantly, was that none of my fellow travelers had any interest in partaking in this activity.
That about wraps it up for the year. I thought I would end this letter with my favorite DM exchange of the year.
Scott: She admits she is completely into me and called me “hot” on our first date.
Omar: That’s a big red flag.
Scott: Things have been moving quickly since we met face to face two weeks ago.
Omar: I’m sorry, I’m still laughing at what I just wrote. Isabel is looking at me like I’m more nuts than usual.
Scott: Two laughing/crying emojis. No, you are not. You love it. I can literally hear you laugh.
Wait, wait, wait– there is still a bit of space left at the bottom of the page here, so I think I can squeeze in a new segment I’m calling “Morbid confessions of a serial Christmas letter writer,”
Sometimes, when I can’t sleep in the middle of the night, I go downstairs, turn on my laptop, put on my headphones, and listen to Kenny Rogers music for two hours straight. If that doesn’t put me to sleep I’ll fire up Youtube and watch him on The Muppet Show. I may have said too much.