So we walked through the storm back to the hotel. Any conversation had reached a standstill. I was very annoyed about the weather and I think it's safe to say that we were both freezing. However, after crossing the overpass and walking through a field to return to Loftleidir, me making the quiet and grave declaration that I would never walk that again (40 minutes to get back?) we crashed in our room, watched a bit of Icelandic and American television and rested with the intention of going out again to experience the nightlife.

This time we took the shuttle and after having passed a few clubs and bars settled on a rather ordinary, nondescript one and climbed the stairs to scope the scene. Wynene and I grabbed a couple of seats at the bar. She ordered a martini (we're still trying to figure out what the hell they made for her) and I ordered a Gull beer, which was confusing to the bartender. I was annoyed: it's an Icelandic beer, I see it's on tap, what's the confusion? Well, Wynene found out a few days later that two "l"s put together is pronounced "ld." I pronounced it like I was referring to those disgusting birds back at home that hang out on the beach and crap on people at the Boardwalk, when I should have pronounced it "goodl."

So while I sipped my beer and Wynene regarded her funny martini with a green marachino cherry sitting at the bottom of the glass, we watched the Icelandic kids. The place was bustling with many people dancing to all the hottest American club tunes, some sitting at the bar, others sitting in little couches. It looked like any other bar/club to me, though we both noticed with much amusement that most of the guys were wearing suits and ties. They were all in there early and mid twenties and looked so smart, like they just finished taping a scene for Reservoir Dogs. Soon enough, a guy approached Wynene. I turned my head and continued to watch people, pleased that some guy was hitting on Wynene. I couldn't hear what they were saying but noticed at one point that he took out a card and I turned a bit towards them, hoping he was going to buy us each a drink. I saw him slip his card under the flap of her clutch. Whatever that meant. He ended up buying two beers and walking away. She didn't tell me too much, we finished our drinks, and stepped back out into the harsh Icelandic night.

We decided that we were both hungry and opted to grab a sandwich at a shop we passed. I ordered one with lamb and she had a veggie one of course. It wasn't until we were standing at a counter, munching our sandwiches before a large mirror that we recapped the experience in the club. That's when she told me that the guy had mistaken me for her boyfriend. I guessed he approached her, said hi and asked if I was her boyfriend. "Dude--why did you hold out on me? That's one of the funniest things that has ever happened to me!" I exclaimed. Wynene thought I was going to be offended but I couldn't be. It was so so absurd that it was comical. I wasn't insulted because I don't look like a man. I guess she replied that no, in fact I was a woman, and he commented that the whole thing was suddenly awkward. Duh, man. You were awkward.