Ok... I'll explain the delay some other time.
When I left off, we were on our way home (and I was considering being the first guy to swim the Pacific)...
So... back to the airport in Bangkok. First stop, customs... where we waited with dread while the folks in front of us got EVERYTHING torn apart, looking for contraband. The screeners there were so thorough, I was expecting a body-cavity search. Thankfully, we got lucky: after a cursory look at us, they waved all four of us past. Good thing... none of the screeners looked like my type...
Onto that modern device called the airliner. Thankfully, we managed to get Dad's remaining Valium away from him while we were in country, so he didn't foolishly do anything to spark Mom's homicidal side. Of course, being unable to smoke resulted in the three of us immediately having nic fits. Other than that, the flight was uneventful. Flew into Detroit without a hitch...
Yes, Detroit. For some reason, there are only certain International airports that work inbound from faraway places. I figured LAX, or maybe SEATAC... we got to land in a city whose claim to fame is "Where the Weak are Killed and Eaten". I felt VERY sorry for the foreign-born that were gonna be stuck with any kind of layover. Of course, we had some problems of our own...
See, Spoon is a reactive hypoglycemic. And, as we cleared customs, her blood-sugar decided now was a good time to seek bedrock.
We come through the customs station, and see a door to the outside world. Outside, where Mom Dad and I can deal with the withdrawl symptoms we're experiencing. We set Spoon in a chair ("Be back in a minute, and we'll find something to eat"), and head out...
BLISS! Nicotine FINALLY entering the system! YAY!
Ok... let's go get... wait a sec. Why is that door we came through mirrored on this side, and why won't it open?
Seems the exit doors after customs are one-way. And my (currently brain-dead*) wife is on the wrong side of them.
This should be an easy fix, right? Have some security schlub escort one of us back through, nab Spoon, and be on our way to a restaurant. To quote Bill Cosby: "RIIIIIGHT!".
Close to an hour of running around the airport, trying to get SOMEONE to understand that I need to get to my wife, and deal with her blood-sugar levels. FINALLY find a stupervisor that can bring us back to the other side of that door... only to find Spoon missing.
I came close to jail right then. I figured "justifiable homicide"... had someone walked us back right away, my wife wouldn't be wandering around without benefit of an IQ. I promised myself that, if she HAD truly disappeared, so would the stupervisor...
Mom and Dad head to the proper ramp, with the idea that MAYBE she would figure out where to go on her own. Me? I start wandering some of the various areas that she might have gone to. Thinking up new and worse tortures to visit on folks for coming between me and my wife. Then I hear the page, calling me to the ramp where Mom & Dad are...
Seems Spoon realized that her brain was shutting down, and dug out a power bar hidden in her bag. The mind re-engaged, and she went looking for us... while we were trying desperately to get back through the door to look for her. Mom thoguht it was funny: she always liked laughing at me when I got "needlessly upset".
Brat.
The connecting flight back to Milwaukee was also uneventful, although by this time, I just wanted to get home. I ALWAYS have this reaction: no matter how much fun the trip is, or how much I love the destination, the last couple hours of the return trip I ALWAYS get impatient to be home.
Through the airport, out to the car, and we're on our way home. Barring a stop for dinner, we drove through.
Couple days after getting back, Mom asks if we're ready to do it again. I just smile, and ask when she wants to leave... ;)
*For the record, I love my wife. And she's normally VERY intelligent. But when her blood-sugar tanks, you might as well remove her brain from her skull. No biggie, I'm the same way (although she gets bitchier than I do).
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