That’s me. I’m probably a less enthusiastic traveler than many people I know.
(I’m thinking about this because my family asked me again when I’m going to visit with them.)
Ironically, in spite of my reluctance of traveling, I have periods of time when I probably log more air miles than an airline employee.
Like the time when I moved to Idaho.
I had several tax audits going concurrently so I kept hoping on the plane and going back and forth between Idaho and California.
Then a friend needed help (health problems).
So I put the audit on hold and went to New York for several weeks.
But it was the year after when things got more “interesting”.
It started out with a trip to Hawaii.
From there I went to Las Vegas for a tax seminar.
Back to Idaho.
Then went to New York.
From there to Madrid, Spain.
Then Bucharest, Slatina, Arad — all three in Romania.
A month later I’m back in the U.S. at the airport going through customs.
I have no luggage; it got lost somewhere.
I’m tired and cranky; and the custom officer is questioning the whereabouts of my missing luggage.
Let me just say I’m not at my best when I get off the plane after so many hours.
It seems to me that he is also questioning my Eastern European origins.
That’s how it seems to me.
(Remember I’m tired and cranky.)
So, what do you think I do in that situation?!
Well, I set out to “prove” to the officer my birth place was indeed in Eastern Europe.
And I speak the language.
(Incidentally, I’m fluent in English and Romanian. Also know some French; and some Russian.)
One of us had more smarts than the other
Most of my “commentary” was comprised of two Romanian words: Stupid and Idiot.
Yes, you are reading correctly: the two words are similar in both, English and Romanian;
and the only difference in pronunciation is the accent (its placement).
Obviously the customs officer had no problem understanding what I was saying.
Or the meaning of it.
Well, one of us had more smarts than the other.
(Hint: it wasn’t me!)
The officer handed me my passport, and said politely:
“Thank you, ma’am. You may go now.”
The moral of this story?
When I come back home, and go through customs,
what I want to hear my customs officer say is, “Welcome home!”
To the man who worked in customs that day:
Thank you for being an officer and a gentleman.
And next time I visit with family I’m going to keep my travel plans simple; and fun.
I’m going to start with U. K.
My sister’s son and two daughters live and work in London.
They keep telling me I “need” to be introduced to London’s night scene.
(Judging by what they post on Facebook I’m finally going to make good on that exercise resolution — at least while I’m there : )
Thanks for visiting.