Day 63 - Dubai/Amsterdam/Detroit

I didn't make it through the all-nighter. After the rugby game, I told my brother I'd take a two-hour nap, wake up at 3:30am and leave for the airport. I closed my eyes and all too quickly there was a knock on my door. "Uh, bro, it's 3:30." Nuts. I'm still pooped, but that's what the plane is for. The anti-jetlag strategy was to stay awake and fall asleep on the plane in Dubai at 7:00am, which would be 11:00pm in Detroit. By sleeping through the entire flight I could then wake up in Amsterdam at 6:00am Detroit time and be on my way. But the best-laid plans of mice and men...

My brother decided to forbid me from walking to the airport one last time, maybe because I had two large suitcases, maybe because it would be an extra few minutes with me. (I think it was both.) After checking in, I headed into the always-open, world-famous Dubai Duty Free for some more shopping. I must confess that I bought so much I ended up buying another suitcase in which to carry it. To my delight the suitcase was reasonably priced, and I needed another wheeled carry-on to replace the one I've been using for the past 12 years.

I arrived at the gate to board the flight, only to discover that they had re-assigned my seat. I had originally requested 10H, a bulkhead seat for the legroom. Looking at my boarding card they had put me all the way back in 41A. I asked the gate agent whether I could have my original seat. To my surprise, I was told I could pick any open seat I wanted after takeoff. He explained that there were less than 50 passengers on this flight, and in order to distribute the weight for takeoff we were all seated in the back.

Wow! I had not been on such an empty flight before! This was going to be great! And it was. After takeoff I moved up all the way to row 15 and stretched out across all three seats. But the seatbelt posts kept digging into my side, so it wasn't all that comfortable. My plan to sleep to Amsterdam was thwarted.

We landed in Amsterdam and, as I deplaned at gate F6, I noticed that this was the same gate I'd be boarding at for Detroit. I wondered whether it would be the same plane. (It turned out later that it was.) As I strolled through the airport I picked up a few more souvenirs for the family. I went up to the lounge for a few minutes to sit and relax before the 4-hour layover was over. Returning to gate F6, I stopped at the kiosk next to the gate for a bottle of water and three, fresh Braeburn apples. I boarded the plane, and settled into my seat - 10H. The flight was uneventful. I enjoyed an apple while watching "Get Smart" and "Kung Fu Panda" on the seatback video. I tried watching a couple of other movies, but I lost interest in the first 5 minutes.

We landed in Detroit at 6:00pm, 40 minutes behind schedule. For those of you unfamiliar with international travel, it works as follows: Upon arrival you first pass through Passport Control, where they receive your initial declaration and they validate your passport and, if necessary, process your visa. After Passport Control you claim your luggage and pass through Customs, where you declare anything you may be bringing into the country. Some countries have you fill out a Declaration Card upon arrival, where you can state your itinerary as well as any items you are carrying back into the country.

As I stood in line at Passport Control the dogs and their handlers were walking around and sniffing. Once through I realized that I still had two apples in my bag. I ate one and gave the other away to a fellow passenger. As I was eating it the Border Patrol beagle sniffed and climbed up onto my handbag. "Sir, do you have anything in your bag?"

I held up my apple and said, "Just this apple, and a box of cookies. Some chocolate."

"Any other fruits or vegetables?"

"No, just the apple."

"OK, would you please hand me your declaration card?" I watched as he wrote a big green "A" on my card with the words, "apple core". He handed me my card and said, "Sir, please hang on to your apple core, and they'll dispose of it at inspection."

To be clear, the Border Patrol officer was extremely pleasant, and I wasn't ruffled in the least. From previous trips I knew the "A" was for "Agricultural", and that I just won a trip through an extra line for a baggage scan. Because his dog picked up a trace, he had to account for it. Thus I couldn't leave the airport without presenting that apple core. No big deal; I followed the green arrows to the scanner, placed my bags on the belt and retrieved them from the other side. Afterwards I walked out the doors and into the United States of America. I was greeted by a natural phenomenon the likes of which I hadn't seen in over two months - rain.

Not knowing how long it would take me to clear customs I didn't ask Basma to meet me at the airport. Instead I took a cab to the house. I had packed a change of clothes to look (and smell) good when I arrived. I slipped into them during the cab ride. Arriving home I paid the driver and hauled my luggage to the front door. I rang the doorbell and waited.

The door opened, and there was Benjamin. "Daddy! Daddy's home!" He threw his arms around me. Basma came running next and hugged the other side. Samuel came up, but couldn't figure out how to squeeze past his mother and brother, both of whom were blocking the doorway. So I reached over and pushed him into the pile from behind. As we stood there embracing, I could feel the rain running down the back of my neck. I didn't mind; I was home. As we finally released I started to get my luggage inside while Basma called, "Jeaumanneh - your father is home! Come say hi to him!" She came down the hall with a big smile on her face, gave me a big hug and helped to wheel the suitcases into the house. The next few minutes were spent detailing the day's adventure, much like I have above. We opened the suitcases and I passed out the souvenirs and presents for everyone.

I'm finally home.

I'm going to take a couple days off from writing here, since I'm not going anywhere. But tune in Monday morning, when I'll be in Rogers, Arkansas! Thanks for travelling with me. Keep in touch!

Love,
Khalaf.