“What were you doing in Moscow?” the immigration guy at Newark airport asked.
“Transfering planes from China, I was only there for a few hours.”
“What were you doing in China?”
“I was teaching English in Yantai and I had the greatest students ever and they actually paid me money to make up English games and play with middle schoolers! And I — “
“For how long?” he asked, scrutinizing my visas. Then he looked at all the other passport stamps, and started to ask more questions. “And then were did you go?”
“Then I went to Rome for ten days and then I had high romance, because guess what? Stick still likes me! And now I’m going home for Christmas, because honestly, where would I rather spend Christmas than New Jersey?”
“Welcome back,” he said, adding another stamp to my passport, and I was so happy to be home, I almost cried.
My euphoria lasted for about ten minutes, then I found out that the airline sent my bags to the wrong country, and Stick’s connecting flight got cancelled, so yesterday I lost everything (including my boyfriend) to the airlines.
OMG! You’re home! Call me!!!! Or e-mail me a number to call you.
I spent 8 hours in Newark Airport just a week ago. My flight was canceled for reasons I will never understand, and then the next flight they put me on was delayed by about an hour. After that, we spent about 45 minutes on the runway. I hate that airport more than I can possibly say.
I just started reading your blog. You’ve got a lot of great reading here. I’m looking forward to reading more. 🙂