I hate to fly. Since having my son, I've tried to do it as little as possible. It's one thing to send myself 30,000 feet into the sky without a parachute or flying squirrel suit, but I'm fairly confident endangering my innocent toddler warrants a visit from Child Protective Services.

This summer, my husband, toddler and big ol' belly housing a half-baked fetus will be taking to the oh-dear-Lord-let-them-be-friendly skies. Then we take to them again. And again. One of my dear friends is getting married on a tiny German island off the coast of Denmark. To say traveling there is easy is to be a big fat liar. Like, a liar on a sociopathic level. Like, your pants are so on fire it's as if you never even had pants in the first place.

Sylvie and I met in another world, in another time that often feels like a million years ago. In reality, that other world was Australia, and those million years were just over a decade. She was my first flatmate after I moved across the globe for a year of adventure and self-discovery, in a disgusting, dilapidated, bug-infested house we lovingly named the White Castle. There is a special bond that grows between roommates when you live in such peril, every morning being greeted by the large fangs of the huntsman spider living in our shower, every evening having our bodies eaten alive by the creatures that swarmed through our screenless windows into our air conditioning-less house situated in the middle of a rain forest. We were in the trenches together. The filth, grime and impenetrable heat and humidity together. To say we are familiar with each other's body odor is like saying you've heard of that Meryl Streep person. She's an actress, right?

Over the years, we've stayed in touch, managing to see each other every few years. We saw each other through new relationships. New homes. New jobs. New babies. Her fiance introduced me to every spiced wine in the Christmas markets when I was unaware I was two weeks pregnant and insists the wine is what has made my son so sweet.

When someone whom you share such a history with decides to get married on a tiny island across land and ocean, you do what any person with a fear of flying would do. You make a mediocre attempt to look for a flight and set a price point so low it seems unachievable. Curse you, CheapOair and your low prices!

We fly first to Boston. Then we'll push our toddler-tantrum luck by boarding another plane from there to Iceland. All I know about Iceland is that USA played its team in the shamefully Oscar-snubbed film "D2: The Mighty Ducks" and that we have a two-day layover there. People have told me that Reykjavik is a great party town — which is great because I'm betting that my six-month baby bulge is going to want to bounce to the bumpin' club beats until dawn. And by bouncing to the bumpin' club beats, what I really mean is sleep. After defying both the laws of gravity and the conceivable human decibel level with terrified screams on the plane, I may just sleep for our entire two-day layover. But hey, at least the view from my hotel window will be all Elsa, Anna and Olaf — you know, before I close the blackout curtains so I can slumber.

After another five-hour flight to Hamburg, a long trek on a train and a ferry ride, we will finally arrive at the tiny island for this destination wedding. After less than a week of festivities, we will do the whole trip in reverse. John Candy and Steve Martin will have had nothing on me! Except for an awesome mustache. I'd love me a John Candy mustache.

I've been told that being six months pregnant is the best way to fly. Not only do you get to wear a sexy pair of compression pantyhose but also you get to enjoy frequent trips to the bathroom. But even with all this competition, I'm betting that the best part of the trip will be watching my beautiful friend marry the man she loves. And if I toast her with one sip of German wine to ensure my current bun in the oven turns out as sweet as my first one, so be it. Cheers.

Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. Check out her column at http://didionsbible.com. To find out more about Katiedid Langrock and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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