All good things must come to an end...or so they say. On Friday, June 19th, we took a Picadilly Line Underground train to Heathrow airport, where we boarded a plane bound for the United States of America. Yes, after nine months of travel, it was time to return home. On the days leading up to our return, we both expressed sadness about the end of our adventure, while also feeling excited to see family and friends.
When we checked in for our flight, Alan's "Charlie Brown Vortex" struck again, and we were flagged for extra security. They went through our limited carry-on bags and gave our passports a good examination, and decided we were safe to allow on board.
The flight over the pond wasn't the greatest. We traded seats to get two seats on the aisle, only we weren't told that they were in the absolute back row of the plane. Nothing like trying to sleep while the flight attendants chit chat and the toilet flushes all night. Thankfully, though, it was a fairly smooth flight, and we landed safely at JFK. This is when the fun began.
I was flagged for a special line when going through immigration, while Gracyn breezed through and went to get our bags. When I reached the immigration officer, he scanned my passport and then asked me to follow him to a different room, where he put my passport in a file and told me to wait for the next available officer. After waiting for five minutes or so, I was called forward and then spent the next 30 minutes answering questions, standing the entire time. As you can imagine, I didn't have the best answers.
"Where do you work?"
"I don't work anywhere right now. I've been traveling for nine months."
"Oh. Well, what's your profession?"
"Clergy. I'm a Presbyterian minister."
"Hmmm."
I was ready to give the Sansburys' address, so at least that wasn't a problem.
"What's the address for the Presbyterians?"
"You mean, like, in Louisville?" (remember, I've basically been up all night)
"Is that where you last worked?"
"Well, no. I worked in Nashville."
"Give me the address of the church where you last worked."
"I didn't work for a church. I worked on a college campus. Do you want that address."
"That will do."
At the end of our interview, I was asked if I had any military training and whether I had ever fired a weapon. I answered "no" to both questions.
Finally, he gave me my passport, and I was escorted to the exit to baggage claim. So, you might ask, on your entire journey, what was the hardest country to enter? That's right, the United States of America, the one place where I'm a citizen. Go figure.
Gracyn was waiting patiently with our bags, so we put on our backpacks and made our way to the exit, where Wes Goldsberry was waiting to greet us back to the country. Yes, Wes came to the airport at 11:00 pm to pick us up and entertain us while we waited for our 6:30 am flight the next day.
We spent the night visiting some of Wes's favorite haunts in and around Brooklyn, and even got to visit his apartment. He's a great friend, and we're so grateful for his hospitality upon our return. Then, at 5:00 AM, we returned to JFK to catch our flight to Atlanta.
This time, when we went through security, we received an extra security check that included fairly comprehensive body patdowns. Good times with the TSA. There's probably a joke to be made here about being part of the 5%.
Our flight to Atlanta was uneventful, and we made our requisite stop at Caribou Coffee, as we did on the way out of the country. Here are the before and after photos.
With campfire mochas in hand, we were joyfully reunited with Gracyn's parents around 9:00 AM on June 20th. As you can imagine, tears were shed, and huge smiles ensued. More to come on re-entry. For now, here's photo evidence of our first meal back in the country...and yes, we requested it.
When we checked in for our flight, Alan's "Charlie Brown Vortex" struck again, and we were flagged for extra security. They went through our limited carry-on bags and gave our passports a good examination, and decided we were safe to allow on board.
The flight over the pond wasn't the greatest. We traded seats to get two seats on the aisle, only we weren't told that they were in the absolute back row of the plane. Nothing like trying to sleep while the flight attendants chit chat and the toilet flushes all night. Thankfully, though, it was a fairly smooth flight, and we landed safely at JFK. This is when the fun began.
I was flagged for a special line when going through immigration, while Gracyn breezed through and went to get our bags. When I reached the immigration officer, he scanned my passport and then asked me to follow him to a different room, where he put my passport in a file and told me to wait for the next available officer. After waiting for five minutes or so, I was called forward and then spent the next 30 minutes answering questions, standing the entire time. As you can imagine, I didn't have the best answers.
"Where do you work?"
"I don't work anywhere right now. I've been traveling for nine months."
"Oh. Well, what's your profession?"
"Clergy. I'm a Presbyterian minister."
"Hmmm."
I was ready to give the Sansburys' address, so at least that wasn't a problem.
"What's the address for the Presbyterians?"
"You mean, like, in Louisville?" (remember, I've basically been up all night)
"Is that where you last worked?"
"Well, no. I worked in Nashville."
"Give me the address of the church where you last worked."
"I didn't work for a church. I worked on a college campus. Do you want that address."
"That will do."
At the end of our interview, I was asked if I had any military training and whether I had ever fired a weapon. I answered "no" to both questions.
Finally, he gave me my passport, and I was escorted to the exit to baggage claim. So, you might ask, on your entire journey, what was the hardest country to enter? That's right, the United States of America, the one place where I'm a citizen. Go figure.
Gracyn was waiting patiently with our bags, so we put on our backpacks and made our way to the exit, where Wes Goldsberry was waiting to greet us back to the country. Yes, Wes came to the airport at 11:00 pm to pick us up and entertain us while we waited for our 6:30 am flight the next day.
We spent the night visiting some of Wes's favorite haunts in and around Brooklyn, and even got to visit his apartment. He's a great friend, and we're so grateful for his hospitality upon our return. Then, at 5:00 AM, we returned to JFK to catch our flight to Atlanta.
This time, when we went through security, we received an extra security check that included fairly comprehensive body patdowns. Good times with the TSA. There's probably a joke to be made here about being part of the 5%.
Our flight to Atlanta was uneventful, and we made our requisite stop at Caribou Coffee, as we did on the way out of the country. Here are the before and after photos.
With campfire mochas in hand, we were joyfully reunited with Gracyn's parents around 9:00 AM on June 20th. As you can imagine, tears were shed, and huge smiles ensued. More to come on re-entry. For now, here's photo evidence of our first meal back in the country...and yes, we requested it.
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