NOTE: This is the last entry in my “From Main To Morocco” blog series, chronicling my ten-day trip to various cities in the country of Morocco. Click here to read more entries in this series.
Two months ago, I ended my Day 10 post with this little gem:
(This isn’t the last entry in the series, by the way. I have at least one more planned — one where I wrap things up, tie up loose ends, and do all those things that so many authors nowadays just don’t understand … and actually end the story.)
Yeah … so much for that.
What can I say? After such an amazing trip, I was ready to come home and just … be home. I missed my wife and my little boy terribly, and I was ready to dive back into our life. I kept telling myself that I needed to write the last entry in the series, and I even almost did a few times. But, in the end, living in the present won out.
Plus, I started working on my eight-years-in-progress novel again. (I’ve actually made a lot of progress on it since then, thank you very much.)
Also, Batman: Arkham City came out. I couldn’t pass that up.
But, alas, here I am, returning to my blog after a two-month hiatus to finish the series and start chronicling once again. So, first … let’s finish the series.
Our journey back to the States was not what you could call smooth. One could go so far as to say it was the exact opposite of smooth.
[Insert Firefly quote: “How come it never goes smooth?”]
The trip back started out okay. Our flight from Marrakech to Casablanca was rather uneventful, and the flight from Casablanca to New York was late. Even with how late it was running, we thought we would have plenty of time once we got to JFK.
Oh, how we were wrong.
The layout of JFK makes no real sense. With many other airports, passengers can go from terminal to terminal without leaving the building, thus making any additional security checks unnecessary. However, that isn’t the case with JFK.
We arrived late, with less than an hour to get to the gate and catch our next flight. We had to go to a completely different terminal on the other side of the airport, and we were forced to go through security again. We reached the line … and it was 178 miles long.
(That might be a slight exaggeration. It also might not be.)
We stared at the line in disbelief. After navigating the airport, we had a little over half an hour to reach the gate before the plane departed. It looked impossible. Thankfully, the attendants were informed of the late flight in from Casablanca and started moving people from that flight — including us — forward. Long story short, we arrived at an empty gate, but the plane was still sitting on the runway. We weren’t too late — which, in itself, is a miracle, considering that the plane left early.
That’s right. I said early.
When in the history of commercial air flight has a plane ever left early? October 25th, 2011, that’s when. Our flight from New York to Atlanta left the gate a full fifteen minutes early. We almost missed the flight because of it. Once we were rushed through security, we actually thought we had some time to breathe. We contemplated grabbing a quick bite in the terminal or, at the very least, stopping by the restroom. I’m glad we decided to check the gate first; otherwise, we would have stayed the night in New York, and I wouldn’t have been home until a full day later. As much as I loved the trip, it was time to be home.
So, there we were, in the air above the Appalachians and heading toward Atlanta. Unfortunately, our bags were not.
You see, we wanted to go to home. But it seems that our checked luggage wanted to stay in New York for an extra night. Maybe our bags really liked the airport. Maybe the airport really liked our bags. Nonetheless, they didn’t join us for the return trip, and we arrived in Atlanta missing the majority of our luggage.
At that point, however, we really didn’t care. Once we figured out what had happened, we got on the shuttle to Chattanooga and headed back. I was back in my home sweet home by a little after one in the morning, and I was back in my bed about five minutes after that.
No worries, though. Our luggage arrived at the Chattanooga airport the next afternoon. Their vacation wasn’t what they expected, and they decided it was time to come home, too.
And that does it for my trip to Morocco. It was an amazing experience, and I can only hope to have dozens more like it over the course of my life. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about it, and I hope you’ll continue to read.
After all, I still have plenty of adventure left to write about … even if it does take place here at home.