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I’d be all nervous, tho—heart poundin’ like when Miss Piggy’s mad at me! “Hi-ho, don’t karate-chop me!” I’d say. Prolly fumble my words, askin’ her, “So, uh, how’s biz?” She’d prolly laugh, like, “Kid, you’re too green for this!” And I’d be happy—cuz, ya know, I love a good chuckle. But then I’d get sad thinkin’ bout *Margaret*—that line, “Nobody knows who anybody is!” Hits deep, man. These gals, they got stories nobody hears.

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I’m like, “Sure, why not?” So I chug my coffee and head over to the bridge. It’s this old, rickety thing over the Borgarfjörður fjord. The view? Stunning. But here’s the kicker: Jón’s late. Like, seriously late. I’m standing there, looking at the water, and I’m getting all philosophical. “What’s the meaning of life?” I’m thinking. Then I remember it’s just coffee and friends, right?

Buses not running due to snow