The rough and tumble parts of Iceland can make you question, “am I man enough to live here?” As you stroll past the city center of Reykjavik and gaze upon a 60-foot man wearing 66 Degrees North clothing looking every bit more manly than you, the answer becomes pretty clear. If the answer isn’t clear, then your wife knocking you out-of-the-way to get another look at the giant brutish handsome man should reaffirm that you indeed are not man enough for Iceland.
I tried desperately to recreate that look, but sadly the look was not in my luggage. I tried on the infinity scarf at a local Icelandic retailer and with one glance into the mirror I knew I was not man enough to wear the famed scarf. So I thought about other ways I could prove my manhood was still firmly intact. I stepped into the Lebowski Bar ready to prove that I was a man and a lover, but after 12 overly-delicious White Russians, 6 beers, and 5-10 shots (I can’t keep track because our lovely new friend had a new one for me every time I turned around) I found myself on the losing end once again. I spent that night on the floor, throwing up for 7 straight hours continuously haunted by the image of the 60-foot man knowing that he would not have these problems. He would have looked great in some 66 Degree North outfit and kicked the bars ass!
Once I was able to pull myself together I knew what I had to do to prove that I was a man…I needed to expose myself to sub-freezing temperatures and conquer the Silfra Crack! I suited-up and without regard for women and children, I took off. The only thing that kept me from going into the lake (which is bad) was the tour guide grabbing my foot and giving me the stop signal. Afterwards he asked me, “where the hell were you going?” And with that I was a six-year-old boy bested once again by the mighty Iceland!
After a few hours of feeling defeated, I knew that I had one more opportunity. If I couldn’t out drink or out snorkel Iceland then I could sure as hell out eat Iceland! We settled in to a nice restaurant, deciding to treat ourselves for the evening. I tore into my pork dish and then ravished my wife’s fish dish…and then ended up in the Emergency Room suffering from a severe allergic reaction. I remember being in the back of a cab rushing to the ER because I couldn’t breath, panicking, certain I would die in Iceland. As my wife tried to calm me down, reassuring me I would be okay, I was able to gather myself as the cab stopped at a red light. I glanced up and sure enough, there he was. The 60-foot man was now only about 4-foot and plastered to a bus shelter. But still, he looked ever so masculine and ready for anything. It could have been the lack of oxygen but I swear…he laughed at me.