The Inevitable Trip

[Jerry & xiaomin]

I understood perfectly that this was going to be a very long trip, but a trip home ...

 

My flight to Tokyo on that Saturday, Sept. 5th, lasted for more 4 hours, but it wasn't as bad or hard as I thought it would be, though I'd never been on a flight longer than 2 hours. I expected myself to sleep through the whole journey, instead, most of the journey I was occupied by the in-flight entertainment. It helped to easy the pain of sitting tight for hours, I was praying that this luxury treat could also be available for my next flight, the longest one of the 3 in one single day. After half an hour flickering around, I fixed on one movie called Hairspray, which I enjoyed a lot. I rated it one of the best Hollywood musical movies. Something to share with the whole Jerry and kids after I get settle down. They are gonna love those music and songs.

 

During the 3hour layover in Tokyo Airport, I took my time at the service center in finding a cart for my hand-luggage, there I had a nice chat with an American soldier, who was standing before me, but gestured me to go over him. Over the talk I learnt that he was on his way home after 3 years stationed in Okanowa, traveling with him was his dog. He was at the service counter asking to take the layover time to see his dog. ... then I moved on to finding the right gate to my connection flight, going through the security control for the second time ... still have a lot of time to kill, so I went on a tour around the airport. Stopped my roaming when I came cross the internet service, where I killed another hour or so online with Jerry.

 

Then it was the 10 hour killer flight to San Francisco, from which I didn't expect myself to survive, but I did, it was the dream of future that got me through. The American features/traits started to manifest the minute of boarding on United Airline, for one, the Captain's voice came through the loudspeaker, making a personal speech to his passengers. And later I noticed how different the steward/stewardess were, in comparison to those of Asian countries, they were mostly middle-aged, casual in attire as well as in attitude, there was this one stewardess, a big girl, was even jokingly chatting with her customers. Sitting beside me was a U.S Marine Officer, a man of few words but was forced to take the roll of my personal in-flight assistant. He told me that he'd fought in Afghanistan and Iraq, I wonder if he was bragging. After we landed, he offered me his mobile phone to call Jerry.

 

At the Custom Control in San Francisco Airport, I was hit with a nasty surprise, my visa pack from the American Consulate was all in copy, as opposed to the original. That moment, I started to feel the floor under my feet sinking. More than one time I'd had dreams that I was either traveling to America or already in America and always had something gone terribly wrong, the next thing I knew I was stranded. This must be it, what happens now? ... Lucky me, the Custom Officer was not like those Chinese staff in the Consulate in GUZ, though he was indeed a Chinese, a Cantonees at that, but surely was born or at least grown up in America, I figured that from his fluent American English. He asked some questions about me and my fiance, like how we met, when and how many times he visited me in china, when the BIG DAY would be, finace's occupation, and what I was doing before coming to America ... then told me not to worry before he went to his supervisor, who gave him a 'GO' ('as long as the pack is sealed.' -- of course it was sealed, I might be crazy but not stupid.) And that word 'GO' sounded like an exoneration to me, because the bitter memory of my visa been delayed for a whole month due to one visa-application paper being in copy was still alive in my head. I could only imagine what a shitty place I'd be left in, had they decided to make me pay for this mistake that those F@$*&ING Chinese staff in U.S Consulate staff had planted for me.

 

Now I couldn't wait to tell Jerry that I'd passed the Custom, that I was officially walking on American soil. I came to a booth that had an Asian look young guy sitting inside, who was not very keen to serve me, but an old American gentleman stepped in, running up and down to help get me a calling card, to figure out how to operate.

I think he felt obligated to make me feel home after hearing me saying that I'd just landed in America for the very first time in my life.

 

Then I went to the security control for the 3rd time, where they confiscated the pair of nupchosticks I'd bought for Brent, and told me to go back to the Custom, 'Excuse me? To do what?', -- 'Tell them that you have some weapons.' OK, I didn't see that coming. 'But they are not weapons, they are toys.' The officer, again, an Asian guy, ignored me, but turned to his supervisor, 'She refuses to go.' -- 'No, I don't meant to refuse to go ... but can't I just desert them? Do I still have to go back to the Custom then?' Then he shook his head. RIGHT! -- 'Good day sir.'

 

The San Francisco Airport itself was no different from any other, I was surprise to notice how old, plain it was, most of the facilities were worn. In fact, if it wasn't for the obvious signs and such, it could easily be taken for Guangzhou Airport, as Asian people were running every corner, Cantonees can be heard here and there. Most of the lower job position were staffed by Chinese, more precisely, Cantonees, like janitors. And there was this one guy who must be the most unique one among them all, he picked up a crashed can from under the chairs and held it up about one inch away from the nose of a white-guy who was sitting with a girl, both absorbed in a laptop game. The janitor mumbled something like 'Is this yours?' or 'You still want it?' ... and the young couple were surprisingly calm, just slightly shook their heads, and went back to their little world of two.

 

The first thing I did was to find the right gate to my next flight, even though the layover time was of 5 hours. It was at gate 69! I decided to go there first, at least to find the way to it so I won't get into trouble later. There was no cart in sight, so I had to drag my heavy hand-luggage along, and I was totally worn out that by the time I made to gate 69 that I decided to settle down instead of going anywhere for sightseeing. Not long before the fatigue started creeping up on me. For the first couple of hours I still could fight it, later came two Asian women took the seats beside me, they were obviously sisters, the elder one a bit talkative, which was quite welcome to me at that particular moment, though her English was broken and with heavy Asian accent. But this was not exactly a situation for me to be picky.

 

Slowly I could feel that my mind was slipping away, and when I opened my eyes, my company was gone, along with many others. Suddenly the waiting area seemed weirdly quirt. I checked the time on the information panel, 3:30, 15 minutes to boarding, why is that nobody's here? But I was not worried, I'm at the right gate. I dragged my luggage to the restroom, thought it would be better to fresh up before boarding. Experience's taught me that any washroom on an airplane is merely as good as a toilet. My ears were on alert to the loudspeaker while I was in the washing-room, knowing that we were about to board soon. But nothing came at all the whole time. Coming out of the restroom I went straight to the counter, where two staffs, a middle aged lady and a young man, were working behind. Needless to say that I was shocked by the information that I'd missed my flight to Santa Ana, because the boarding gate for U.A 6142 was changed to gate 77B and the announcement must have taken place while I was in a coma. The long journey just got longer! I immediately burst into tears, even though the lady was already starting to work on putting me on the next flight. She kept saying, 'Don't cry, it's not like you got lost, just a couple of hours delay.'

 

'But my husband is on the way to the airport to meet me. ... and kids are there too, they're gonna be waiting there for how long, how many hours? ...'

 

"OK, then we call him right now ... Don't you worry, everything's gonna be just fine.'

 

She got Jerry on the phone, explained the situation and informed him my next flight, then turned to me, 'Would you like to talk to your husband?' ... I don't think Jerry made much sense out of what I was saying on the phone, I was practically sobbing through the conversation, feeling exhausted, sorry and stupid.

 

Again, I was dragging my luggage to 77b. Along the way I spotted a line of carts. Wow! I went over, pull, it wouldn't come out, I pulled harder, still can't free the cart. Then I met the eyes of the gentleman sitting few feet away, he stood up, walked over, and told me that I needed to pay for the cart. 4 dollars. I fished my wallet out of one of the baggages, only to find that I didn't have the change, he offered the money, and helped me to feed the bank-note into the machine and get the cart out, loaded my luggage on. I started crying as I started telling about my day. ... The 3 hour waiting passed in our chatting. Then he suggested me to check the boarding information on the panel half an hour before boarding time, just to be sure. Guess what, he was not being paranoid, now my new flight 8757 was moved again back to gate 69! I exclaimed, 'Oh my God, I'm so not ready for America!' He replied, 'Well, you certain sound ready. ... Come, let me take you to the right the gate so you don't miss it again.'

 

Finally, my flight reached my destination, Santa Ana! ... Coming down the escolator I saw Jerry, Brent and Kimmie standing there, each one of them had a bunch of flowers in their hands, BLUE, RED & WHITE !

 

We ran, hugged, kissed, Jerry said, 'Welcome home Honey.'

 

I must say, it's the people I met today that made America America! I certainly felt home the minute I step on American soil. It feels so terrible good and sweet to hold Jerry, Brent and Kimmie for real.

 

We walked out of the airport as one complete family.

 

The end of my day, but the beginning of my life.

[weiaijiayou]

Splendid writing.

 

You followed your dream and made it come true.

[HongKong2LA]

I understood perfectly that this was going to be a very long trip, but a trip home ...

 

My flight to Tokyo on that Saturday, Sept. 5th, lasted for more 4 hours, but it wasn't as bad or hard as I thought it would be, though I'd never been on a flight longer than 2 hours. I expected myself to sleep through the whole journey, instead, most of the journey I was occupied by the in-flight entertainment. It helped to easy the pain of sitting tight for hours, I was praying that this luxury treat could also be available for my next flight, the longest one of the 3 in one single day. After half an hour flickering around, I fixed on one movie called Hairspray, which I enjoyed a lot. I rated it one of the best Hollywood musical movies. Something to share with the whole Jerry and kids after I get settle down. They are gonna love those music and songs.

 

During the 3hour layover in Tokyo Airport, I took my time at the service center in finding a cart for my hand-luggage, there I had a nice chat with an American soldier, who was standing before me, but gestured me to go over him. Over the talk I learnt that he was on his way home after 3 years stationed in Okanowa, traveling with him was his dog. He was at the service counter asking to take the layover time to see his dog. ... then I moved on to finding the right gate to my connection flight, going through the security control for the second time ... still have a lot of time to kill, so I went on a tour around the airport. Stopped my roaming when I came cross the internet service, where I killed another hour or so online with Jerry.

 

Then it was the 10 hour killer flight to San Francisco, from which I didn't expect myself to survive, but I did, it was the dream of future that got me through. The American features/traits started to manifest the minute of boarding on United Airline, for one, the Captain's voice came through the loudspeaker, making a personal speech to his passengers. And later I noticed how different the steward/stewardess were, in comparison to those of Asian countries, they were mostly middle-aged, casual in attire as well as in attitude, there was this one stewardess, a big girl, was even jokingly chatting with her customers. Sitting beside me was a U.S Marine Officer, a man of few words but was forced to take the roll of my personal in-flight assistant. He told me that he'd fought in Afghanistan and Iraq, I wonder if he was bragging. After we landed, he offered me his mobile phone to call Jerry.

 

At the Custom Control in San Francisco Airport, I was hit with a nasty surprise, my visa pack from the American Consulate was all in copy, as opposed to the original. That moment, I started to feel the floor under my feet sinking. More than one time I'd had dreams that I was either traveling to America or already in America and always had something gone terribly wrong, the next thing I knew I was stranded. This must be it, what happens now? ... Lucky me, the Custom Officer was not like those Chinese staff in the Consulate in GUZ, though he was indeed a Chinese, a Cantonees at that, but surely was born or at least grown up in America, I figured that from his fluent American English. He asked some questions about me and my fiance, like how we met, when and how many times he visited me in china, when the BIG DAY would be, finace's occupation, and what I was doing before coming to America ... then told me not to worry before he went to his supervisor, who gave him a 'GO' ('as long as the pack is sealed.' -- of course it was sealed, I might be crazy but not stupid.) And that word 'GO' sounded like an exoneration to me, because the bitter memory of my visa been delayed for a whole month due to one visa-application paper being in copy was still alive in my head. I could only imagine what a shitty place I'd be left in, had they decided to make me pay for this mistake that those F@$*&ING Chinese staff in U.S Consulate staff had planted for me.

 

Now I couldn't wait to tell Jerry that I'd passed the Custom, that I was officially walking on American soil. I came to a booth that had an Asian look young guy sitting inside, who was not very keen to serve me, but an old American gentleman stepped in, running up and down to help get me a calling card, to figure out how to operate.

I think he felt obligated to make me feel home after hearing me saying that I'd just landed in America for the very first time in my life.

 

Then I went to the security control for the 3rd time, where they confiscated the pair of nupchosticks I'd bought for Brent, and told me to go back to the Custom, 'Excuse me? To do what?', -- 'Tell them that you have some weapons.' OK, I didn't see that coming. 'But they are not weapons, they are toys.' The officer, again, an Asian guy, ignored me, but turned to his supervisor, 'She refuses to go.' -- 'No, I don't meant to refuse to go ... but can't I just desert them? Do I still have to go back to the Custom then?' Then he shook his head. RIGHT! -- 'Good day sir.'

 

The San Francisco Airport itself was no different from any other, I was surprise to notice how old, plain it was, most of the facilities were worn. In fact, if it wasn't for the obvious signs and such, it could easily be taken for Guangzhou Airport, as Asian people were running every corner, Cantonees can be heard here and there. Most of the lower job position were staffed by Chinese, more precisely, Cantonees, like janitors. And there was this one guy who must be the most unique one among them all, he picked up a crashed can from under the chairs and held it up about one inch away from the nose of a white-guy who was sitting with a girl, both absorbed in a laptop game. The janitor mumbled something like 'Is this yours?' or 'You still want it?' ... and the young couple were surprisingly calm, just slightly shook their heads, and went back to their little world of two.

 

The first thing I did was to find the right gate to my next flight, even though the layover time was of 5 hours. It was at gate 69! I decided to go there first, at least to find the way to it so I won't get into trouble later. There was no cart in sight, so I had to drag my heavy hand-luggage along, and I was totally worn out that by the time I made to gate 69 that I decided to settle down instead of going anywhere for sightseeing. Not long before the fatigue started creeping up on me. For the first couple of hours I still could fight it, later came two Asian women took the seats beside me, they were obviously sisters, the elder one a bit talkative, which was quite welcome to me at that particular moment, though her English was broken and with heavy Asian accent. But this was not exactly a situation for me to be picky.

 

Slowly I could feel that my mind was slipping away, and when I opened my eyes, my company was gone, along with many others. Suddenly the waiting area seemed weirdly quirt. I checked the time on the information panel, 3:30, 15 minutes to boarding, why is that nobody's here? But I was not worried, I'm at the right gate. I dragged my luggage to the restroom, thought it would be better to fresh up before boarding. Experience's taught me that any washroom on an airplane is merely as good as a toilet. My ears were on alert to the loudspeaker while I was in the washing-room, knowing that we were about to board soon. But nothing came at all the whole time. Coming out of the restroom I went straight to the counter, where two staffs, a middle aged lady and a young man, were working behind. Needless to say that I was shocked by the information that I'd missed my flight to Santa Ana, because the boarding gate for U.A 6142 was changed to gate 77B and the announcement must have taken place while I was in a coma. The long journey just got longer! I immediately burst into tears, even though the lady was already starting to work on putting me on the next flight. She kept saying, 'Don't cry, it's not like you got lost, just a couple of hours delay.'

 

'But my husband is on the way to the airport to meet me. ... and kids are there too, they're gonna be waiting there for how long, how many hours? ...'

 

"OK, then we call him right now ... Don't you worry, everything's gonna be just fine.'

 

She got Jerry on the phone, explained the situation and informed him my next flight, then turned to me, 'Would you like to talk to your husband?' ... I don't think Jerry made much sense out of what I was saying on the phone, I was practically sobbing through the conversation, feeling exhausted, sorry and stupid.

 

Again, I was dragging my luggage to 77b. Along the way I spotted a line of carts. Wow! I went over, pull, it wouldn't come out, I pulled harder, still can't free the cart. Then I met the eyes of the gentleman sitting few feet away, he stood up, walked over, and told me that I needed to pay for the cart. 4 dollars. I fished my wallet out of one of the baggages, only to find that I didn't have the change, he offered the money, and helped me to feed the bank-note into the machine and get the cart out, loaded my luggage on. I started crying as I started telling about my day. ... The 3 hour waiting passed in our chatting. Then he suggested me to check the boarding information on the panel half an hour before boarding time, just to be sure. Guess what, he was not being paranoid, now my new flight 8757 was moved again back to gate 69! I exclaimed, 'Oh my God, I'm so not ready for America!' He replied, 'Well, you certain sound ready. ... Come, let me take you to the right the gate so you don't miss it again.'

 

Finally, my flight reached my destination, Santa Ana! ... Coming down the escolator I saw Jerry, Brent and Kimmie standing there, each one of them had a bunch of flowers in their hands, BLUE, RED & WHITE !

 

We ran, hugged, kissed, Jerry said, 'Welcome home Honey.'

 

I must say, it's the people I met today that made America America! I certainly felt home the minute I step on American soil. It feels so terrible good and sweet to hold Jerry, Brent and Kimmie for real.

 

We walked out of the airport as one complete family.

 

The end of my day, but the beginning of my life.

 

Wow, what a great story. Welcome to America and Southern California Xiaomin.

[Guest Pommey]

glad you made it ok

[Jaseball]

I was lucky enough to be with my then fiancee on the flight over here and going through immigration and customs. We also went through SFO and your description was excellent.

 

Congratulations on being reunited. It's been close to a year with my wife now and sometimes I'm still in wonder that we are together here.