After 18 hours of flying (+ layover) across an ocean and then across the country, we’ve made it to San Francisco safe and sound for the next part of our crazy adventure.
Just like on the flights to London, Avery was a total champ, completely content to stay in his seat, play with cars, and watch DVDs. He also didn’t doze off until the last 10 minutes of the flight, just as the plane made its decent into JFK.
Going through airport security for the second time that day, I was forced to wake up my sleeping bear and remove him from his stroller…. of course.
As I held Avery with one hand and used the other to collapse, then lift the stroller onto the belt (while five TSA officers simply stood there and WATCHED, by the way), I overheard another one telling an elderly lady she had to get out of her wheelchair.
Do you think really she and/or my child are a threat to national security? REALLY?!
Ah yes, America… the land where senseless airport hysteria runs rampant.
Other than that, our trip was blissfully uneventful, so I actually shouldn’t complain about it… much. As Mike reminded me, “I’m just so happy to be somewhere familiar that I don’t care what it takes to get here.”
True and true.
It was rather surreal to look out at the twinkling lights of the bay as our plane landed, only to realize that we’re home. We are really and truly and finally home.
For now, at least.