Welcome Home

The Hotness and I recently got home from vacation. The last few years, we’ve taken a week to go to a sweet resort outside Cancun. You know, one of those all inclusive places where the rules say you must consume at least 10,000 calories before noon. It was awesomely relaxing and fun, but as always, I was glad to come home to Orlando.

If you’ve flown in the last, oh, 14 years, you know getting through the airport can be, shall we say, a giant pain in the butt. Add a few layers of anxiety onto that equation when flying internationally. Even though we have every kind of frequent traveler advantage, there’s still this little thing called customs. We had nothing to declare, so it should have been easier, right? Nope! There is still such a level of franticness that comes about when whipping out a passport. For some reason, I always feel like the authority is looking down his nose at me saying, “I know this blind guy looks pretty harmless, but you never know what he’s trying to pull…” So, coming off the plane, I was fidgety…and then proceeded to have a really awesome experience.

When we got to customs, the agent in Orlando punched our paperwork, smiled and said, “Welcome home, guys.”

Maybe it was just all the nerves that go along with traveling internationally, or maybe I was just missing our home, but that simple smile and greeting were almost as comforting as, “I’m here.”

Next time I get frustrated with airline travel, I’m going to remember this agent.