Hello Miami,
85 F
9 1/2 hr flight
Tired and weary.
One difficulty with travel is re-arranging one’s medication for Parkinson’s. There is always a bit of ‘slippage’ with consequential state of feeling ‘underpowered’. Still this was my 11th or 12th visit to the States so was generally well prepared mentally for our arrival.
This was Arkwrights, much delayed, 1st trip to the Land of the Free!!??!!
I had a expected the usual long haul of dragging oneself through the rigours of ‘Homeland Security’……..”have a nice day”……..”no I won’t have a nice day thanks. It’s dark, it’s night, I’ve spent 9 1/2 hours cooped up in less than desirable conditions, been caroused by a bunch of drunken whale-stabbers, have a long, boring drive ahead and am now being hassled by some gun-toting, doughnut (not donut) eating, badge waving jobs-worth and I have a headache!!”.
Actually they were very nice. Quick, efficient and helpful. They are actually very nice people!!!
Which made things worse when Arkwright, fresh off the boat, got into an argument at the first hurdle!
He had completed the customs form. Which on it, said ‘fill out one per family’. Thinking we were still family (he is after all my younger brother) I protested to the Passport control guy that we had only filled out ONE form. Nope. I didn’t count as family. “what do you mean he’s not my family? He’s my brother!!!”. Nope didn’t count cos we didn’t live in the same house, or were married (God forbid) or were parent and child. “Might be brothers, Sir, but you’re not ‘family’ in this case”.
Rather than cause the 2nd War or Independence I quickly offered to fill out another form. Which was OK but I was past my best (due to Parkinsons); couldn’t find my glasses, didn’t have a pen and had nowhere to lean on to write. To make matters worse I found the Form was in Spanish. A language I am not familiar with!!!! Knowing the way US Officials like their paperwork and making sure the i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed. I was aware that unless I did it according to their dictats….”and stand behind the line Sir!!”….we would be in for a longer night.
You can imagine the chagrin of the long queue built up behind us waiting to enter the US. Normally it is me that ‘picks’ the wrong queue, with the a nutter holding up the line.
But we were sorted quickly and sped through customs, baggage reclaim and everything else. The one consolation was seeing one of our elk-herders, looking worse for wear, stumbling his way through customs and being ‘taken aside’.
Every cloud has a silver lining….
Mole Valley to ? 