I have arrived... home

As I sit here at my house typing this and I can't believe this will be my last blog. I feel like I have been gone for ages and home is extremely surreal right now. I will be honest and say that I am not exactly excited to be here. I assumed I'd be like this, but being home is such a strange feeling right now. I haven't slept for two days... March 31st proved to be the longest day of my life as well as the most tiring day of my life.

Fijians have no concept of urgency. They are more laid back then the Kiwis and the Aussies. Thank god my plane left at 10:45pm because it took me 3 hours to get to the damn airport.

Me (4:00pm): The boat will come at 4:30?
Fijian Guy (4:00pm): Yes, boat comes at 4:30.
Me (4:55pm): It's 5pm. Where's the boat?
Fijian Guy (4:55pm): 5 minutes, 5 minutes.
Me (5:15pm): Umm so is the boat coming any time soon?
Fijian Guy: Yes, 5 more minutes.

FINALLY the boat comes. So we take a catamaran to the boat. Then the boat proceeds to stop at 3 other islands on the way to the mainland. Around 6:30 we get to Port Denaru on the mainland. Howard, Lily and I contemplate taking the free shuttle bus that stops ever 5 feet and takes 30 minutes to get to the airport. I look at them and say, screw this, let's get a taxi. We jump into this van from 1962 and take the bumpiest ride that I've ever experienced to the airport.

I check in, then board the plane for the planeride of death. I made myself stay awake the entire time because when I flew into LA it would be day time and I wanted to try to adjust my body to sleeping at the right time. Casino Royale, Happy Feet, and some Russel Crowe movie later I have like 6 hours to go. The rest of my time is spent listening to a screaming 4 year old and praying that I never have children. I think myself and the girl next to me actually contemplated trying to open the emergency exit door and tossing the kid out. The parents didn't even attempt to quiet the child, they just sat there. We land in LA and I am not very happy.

I stay not very happy. I get to the US Airways desk only to find that my flight to Phoenix has been cancelled. I stay calm. I act nice and try to make myself understand that it is not this girl's fault. I meet a guy named Steven who just flew in from Malaysia. He is in the same boat as me. He acts calm and also tries to make to understand that it is not this girl's fault. We get shoved in a corner while some supervisor tries to book us on another flight to Phoenix. 2 hours have now passed. Steven and I are told by the girl that we are booked on Southwest to Phoenix. Now we have to stand back in line and wait for US Air to write us checks for Southwest. Steven and I are starting to get antsy. If we stay in line then our seats on Southwest could be taken by a random walk-up person who is in line at the Southwest counter. We get waited on by the supervisor. Oops, sorry, all seats are booked. I say, hell with Phoenix, can you get me to Philly? No sorry, all flights are booked solid. Earliest I can get out is Monday I'll put you on that flight. I say, I am not staying here until Monday. I ask to fly to Newark. She gives me attitude and says, "It's probably booked solid." I say, "well can you probably get on your computer and check?" I have to ask her twice. I am now becoming not-so-nice. I tell her I am leaving today and she is going to find me a flight and I don't care what she has to do to get me on it.

After much yelling and cursing by both Steven and me because this supervisor, who by no means should have ever been promoted to supervisor, we finally get checks for Southwest because there was a communication problem and we really do have seats-blah-blah-blah-freakin-blah. Steven runs to Southwest to stand in line while I am finishing my paperwork. I meet Steven and completely cut in front of 20-some people pretending to be his wife and no one says a word (whew). Now we have to pray that all the seats aren't booked up before we get there because Southwest is first-come first-serve AKA organized chaos. We wait another 30 minutes in line... we are counting the time and hoping we get seats along with not missing the flight along with cursing US Air under our breath. WE GET SEATS!!!! We check our bags and go to security. The line getting though security stretches longer than the Mississippi River. We sigh and pray we make our flight. Security girl looks at both our boarding passes... WE HAVE TWO QUAD R's!!! Yeah you're going to have to go through the maximum security check. We sigh again and try not to cry. I ask for my film to not go through the x-ray machine and to be handchecked. We go through this air blowing machine. Flip-flops off. Clothes off. Bags searched and rifled through. Little cotton swab squares are brushed all over my belongings and are put into a machine that beeps alot. Film has to be hand checked. Every roll of film has to be taken out of its canister and checked. I have about 40 rolls of film. I try to not cry again. Steven gets through security before me because he's smart and has moved to the digital age. I HAVE to continue to be "artsy" and still use film. Maximum Security check is a blessing in disguise. We get through it faster than the regular security check. We get our first break of the day. We go have a beer.

A fight between a guy sitting in front of me on the plane and the flight attendent breaks out. The flight attendent asks the man to step off the plane to talk. The man refuses. For a minute I thought this guy was going to be a security threat and they weren't going to let the plane even get in the air. Issues are resolved. We get to Phoenix. I get my bag, thank Steven for all his help (because I could not have gotten there without his help) and I go to check in at US Air. I arrive at the desk and people are yelling. Everyone is yelling. Not one person has a smile. My heart drops and I realize that by the looks of this I am not making it home tonight. I wait in line for over an hour. People are raging mad because US Air has overbooked all the flights and they don't have seats, along with cancelling other flights (I feel their pain). I finally make it to the counter. The girl tells me I have no confirmed seat. I stay calm. I act nice and try to make myself understand that it is not this girl's fault. I say I've had these seats since September, how can it not be confirmed? She checks the computer. I have you on a flight out of LA on Monday she says. I look bewildered. I remember back to the supervisor who shouldn't have been a supervisor. I tell her about her putting me on that flight. The IDIOT wasn't supposed to confirm it! I want to yell. She could have possibly caused me to not have a seat. The girl keeps typing. Typing. Typing. Typing. You're in. I rejoice. A man next to me trying to get to Denver slaps me a high-five and he yells well at least someone is getting on a plane tonight. You go girl! The girl is trying to print my baggage stickers. The baggage machine breaks. WHAT ELSE IS GOING TO GO WRONG TODAY??? I have to wait another 10-15 minutes for luggage tickets. Bag gets checked and I'm going home! I don't care if my bag doesn't arrive, I am headed home.

What else is going to go wrong today? Let me tell you... a drunk guy sits behind me on the plane and keeps kicking my seat. I want to throw him out the emergency exit as well as the small child from earlier. He stinks like vodka. The flight attendent actually has to cut him off. He starts snoring. Not like a little snore, but a full blown chainsaw snore. I want to be back in Fiji. I want to be in OZ. I want to be in New Zealand. I want to be anywhere but here. I want to commit suicide the smell is so bad. I don't sleep a wink. I haven't slept since March 31st Fiji time... that was two days ago. I am so tired that I can't even sleep. I arrive in Philadelphia. My bag DOES arrive. I claim it then head to the bathroom. I walk in to a woman standing in pants and no shirt and she is hugging the hand dryer on the wall. I see her boobs... gross, I grimace and get out of there as fast as I can. I walk outside to find Mike waiting for me. I pass a guy in a QVC Q-Force t-shirt. I am tempted to say something to him but I am so cracked out at the moment that I opt not to. By the looks of me he might mistake me for a homeless person begging for change. I'm in the car and on my way home. Back to reality. Back to work. Back to life. It was so much fun being someone else for 3 months. Being a traveler is an addicting life.