Current location: Home

In Amsterdam, the lines were long and the airport was crowded, and there was advertisements for a particular major software company on just about every pillar. Foolish me, I thought that with a 2.5 hour layover, I might even have a chance to step outside of the airport and at least breathe in some Dutch air. No such luck. The number of times that my passport needed to be examined was five, at least. And after my passport had been checked the second time and my security interview completed and all my belongings retrieved (my backpack was too heavy for carry on luggage on the plane from London to Amsterdam), I was faced with a tough choice: stand in the huge queue of over five hundred people all waiting for their passports to be checked so they could get to the gate, or take a mile-long walk around the airport to get to my gate without having to stand in that line. I opted for the walk.

The flight from Amsterdam to Washington, D.C. was pleasant; each of the seats had a nice little television monitor built in to the back, so every passenger had their own screen to watch the movie on. This more than made up for the fact that I had to ride in coach (for some reason, United Airlines wouldn’t let me upgrade my flight to Business Class). I sat next to a Dutch fellow who was going to Santa Barbara, California, to visit a college friend of his, and we had a good conversation.

I was worried landing in Washington because there was only a half-hour between the landing of the plane from Amsterdam and the boarding of the plane to San Francisco. And sitting as I was at the back of the plane, I knew that I would have to grab my backpack and fight my way off the plane, through customs and security, and everything else before I could get to the other gate where my other plane was waiting. Again my passport had to be checked, and because I’d purchased several boxes of chocolate for various mothers and fiancees, I had to declare that I had food with me and stand in the USDA inspection line as well as the standard Customs line. "Keep Hoof and Mouth Out of America", the signs read in large intimidating letters. Chocolate, though, isn’t a very ready carrier of Hoof and Mouth disease, so the USDA waved me through with nary a glance at my bag. And the fact that I was bringing in my prescription medications without the original prescriptions from my doctor didn’t raise a single eyebrow.

The flight from Washington to San Francisco was less pleasant than the flight from Amsterdam. Again, I was seated in coach, but there were no comfortable private movie screens this time. This time if I wanted to watch the movie I had to strain my neck to see around the heads of the people in front of me and simply accept that people would continually walk up and down the aisle, periodically blocking my view. I sat next to a woman who will shortly be traveling to Ireland herself, and had a good conversation with her about travel and books. Most of the time, she was asleep and I was reading my book (Life, by Richard Fortey, a good general account of the evolution of life on Earth over the past four billion years).

I had awakened at 5:00 a.m., London time, after a night of fitful and uneasy rest, in order to catch my first plane. By the time I landed in San Francisco, I had been awake for nearly twenty-two hours, seventeen of them on airplanes. I was feeling cramped for lack of movement on the plane and tired from lack of sleep in London, and just a bit grungy. I had stowed my backpack in an overhead compartment four rows behind where I was sitting, so I had to fight against the current of people to get to it before I could get off the plane, so I was feeling jostled and crowded as well.

I stepped off the plane and onto the gangway, sad that my trip was over, and focused on my aching back and my sore legs.

The gangway from the airport to the gate was mercifully short.

And waiting for me at the gate, looking more beautiful than I have ever seen her before, was Jennifer. Instantly my back stopped hurting, my legs stopped aching, my tiredness was forgotten when I saw her standing there, with that smile of hers that lights up her entire face and the welcoming look in her eyes.

That’s when it finally came to me: that’s when I realized that I was really home.

Some day, I will go back. One month is not enough time to explore Ireland alone, let alone Ireland and the entire United Kingdom. Some day I’ll be able to spend more time in London, and some day I will go to Wales and explore the Snowdonias and meet the people there as well. Some day I’ll travel further, and finally see continental Europe; and beyond that, I’ll visit Asia and Australia and perhaps even parts of Africa.

But if home really is where the heart is, then wherever Jennifer is will be home for me. And when I travel further abroad, Jennifer will be by my side; and with her there, I will always be at home.