Going Home Again

Thanksgiving has come and gone, and as you’re well aware Tracy and I went back to North Carolina for our inaugural return trip post-move.  It’s funny trying to describe how we felt about going home - undoubtedly, there was a part of that was excited beyond belief at the chance to see family and friends in the flesh instead of through email/phone/blog.  But there was also a bit of nervousness, not knowing how we would respond to being back.  In a lot of ways we’ve already changed greatly since moving a mere four months ago, and the trip down South was a first introspective peek for us to determine whether that change has been all good or if perhaps some of the less desirable aspects of big city living have taken their toll on us.

After landing Tuesday night in Greensboro, it was clear that we were in a very different place than New York - one look around the near empty airport terminal and the handful of people at baggage claim told us that. There was space EVERYWHERE; loads and loads of empty space every which way.  It didn’t take long to get used to the calm of North Carolina, though there were certainly times (like the first night when we tried to ignore the sound of the clock ticking in our bedroom), when we clamored for just a bit more ambient noise.

There would be no lack of noise over the next few days as we spent a lot of quality time with the Millers, Huitsings, Granny and our adorable niece and nephew.  The kids are young enough that they’ve changed substantially in the last four months. Thankfully, they still remember us and we can’t possibly describe the special time we shared with them except to say that they’re probably some of the most precious little kids on the planet.

On Saturday we picked up my parents from the airport as they returned from a week in Maui vacationing and taking in the UNC basketball Heels in the Maui Invitational.  We were able to spend Sunday afternoon with them and my sister to celebrate my birthday and hear stories from the big trip.  As an aside, based on the pictures and tales from the Pacific, I can’t wait to someday visit Hawaii at some point in the future - they highly recommend it.

Before we knew it, Sunday was upon us and it was time to say goodbye.  Surprisingly, Tracy’s cheeks stayed remarkably dry as we said our farewells - I’m thinking it had something to do with the knowledge that we’d be back in less than 30 days.  Our flight home was supposed to leave at 6:20pm from Greensboro, but we were informed early afternoon that a delay was imminent given then rain and additional delays in Newark.  Departure eventually was moved to 9pm, so we finally made our way for PTI a little before 8pm.  And that’s when we began a travel experience unlike any other I’ve ever had.

When we reached the Continental Airline desk at the Greensboro airport the first weird fact was that there was literally no one else in the entire check-in area save for the lone Continental worker, a woman in her 60’s who was apparently instructed on customer service by Oscar the Grouch or a snapping turtle.  When I asked her the updated departure time for our flight she barked back at me, “10:30…WHEELS UP!” When I asked her what that meant, all I got was “10:30” as she turned her back on me.  And “wheels up?”, I asked.  It was then that she whipped around, summoned the biggest sigh she could muster, and replied with a snicker, “Let me go slower so you can understand.”  Blood boiling, I told her that would be great and it would also be great if she could explain things clearly this time.  She proceeded to tell me that she had no earthly idea when our plane would leave - it could be in 20 minutes or 2 hours - but that we better get through security since they were going to close.

Keep in mind that it’s not yet 8pm on the Sunday after Thanksgiving.  Apparently that’s when security closes in the booming Piedmont Triad International airport.

So I went back to the car and we got the bags to check as well as our carry-ons.  My friend the Continental worker printed our bag tags and informed us that if we wanted them to make it on the plane we’d have to take them ourselves to security and get them to take the bags to the plane.  Since this was a little different than protocol, I calmly asked her to clarify, at which point I received nary an additional word - instead, I got a finger pointed to her right at the security line.

Like I said, Oscar the Grouch.

It turns out the TSA workers weren’t much better.  As we walked over to the empty lines (and before we could even say goodbye to Tracy’s parents), one of the TSA employees literally began yelling at us.  IF YOU WANT THOSE BAGS TO GET ON YOUR PLANE YOU BETTER GET THEM TO US RIGHT NOW!

At this point I was convinced we were on Candid Camera.  Alas, there were no cameras to be found.  After I asked the lady why she was yelling, one of her co-workers had the good sense to explain that it had been a long day and that everyone was at their respective wit’s end.  Well, that much was clear.  We made our way uneventfully through security and found the TSA team was much more congenial after a couple minutes of small talk.  Sure enough, as we made our way to our gate, they closed up shop behind us.

Little did we know that our fun was just beginning.  Our 9:00pm departure gradually turned into a 10:15 boarding time.  “WHEELS UP” didn’t occur until after 11:00.  This put us in Newark after midnight.  We took the Airport Express bus back into the city, which is a reliable and easy way to go from Newark but isn’t actually what you’d call an ‘express”.  We didn’t walk into our apartment until 2:30am.

We didn’t even have the energy to unpack our bags or sort through the mail.  No, we just crawled into bed and quickly fell asleep, as the comforting sounds of the city that never sleeps rang aloud down below.

Home sweet home.