The trip -- and home

My return to the United States from Arequipa, Peru, was something of a long, strange trip. I left Arequipa on Sunday, Feb. 5, at 6:40 p.m., taking a Taca Airlines flight to Lima. Once I picked up my luggage in Lima I had some real time to kill. My next flight, to Panama City, departed at 3:04 a.m., meaning my layover was something like seven hours. Dullsville but uneventful. The flight to Panama was equally uneventful, other than the fact we got a pretty darn good roast beef sandwich on the plane. I had a three-hour layover in the pleasant Panama airport before departing for Nassau, Bahamas. The excitement, such as it was, took place at Nassau Airport. I was told to pick up my luggage, even though Taca told me my luggage was heading all the way to Philadelphia. A lady in Nassau was taking luggage off the conveyer belt and rolling it out onto the floor. All the bags looked pretty much the same, and I didn't see my bag. Time was ticking and I was getting a wee bit nervous about catching my flight to Philadelphia. Finally, I heard the woman screaming my name -- she had found my bag. I went through the British/Bahama customs aisle without incident, but I wasn't allowed to head toward U.S. customs. The gentleman there told me my ticket was not valid, and that I needed to be reissued a new one. I went back to the ticket counter to get a new ticket, but the lady told me the flight to Philly was closed. After some haggling, I convinced her I had reserved a seat, so she poked around on the computer, found my name and issued me a new ticket. One of the airline workers commented to me: "At first I thought you would be OK, but now I think you're going to miss your flight." I had less than 30 minutes before takeoff, and I still had to go through U.S. customs. The line was huge, of course, and there would be no way to reach my plane on time if I waited. So I walked to the front of the line, turned to the crowd, and pleaded my case. "If I don't cut in line, I miss my flight. I miss my kids." Everyone said they understood -- "We've all been there," one lady said. Awesome. I get to the customs agent about 10 minutes before takeoff. The little interview seemed to go OK until the guy keeps asking me why I was in Panama.  I told him the truth. That's the flight Orbit lined up for me. I tried to change it but had no luck. He told me to go into a side room. I go and there's two guys there. One takes my backpack and runs it though a scanner (about the fifth time it was scanned on the trip) and asks me if I know what's in there. I tell him some books, my computer, and a crucifix I bought in Peru. The other guy, who tells me his father was born in Peru, asks me what I was doing in Peru. I told him I was helping children .... learn English. I'm resigned to missing my flight at this point. But the guys tell me to go ahead and catch my flight. Turns out they were holding the plane for me. As I ran toward gate 41C, a lady yells, "It's Lord Millman. Lord Millman coming." Lord Millman. My family and friends would have been so proud. When I entered the plane, everyone gave me the awkward eye, obviously not pleased to have their flight held up. I'm thinking, "But I'm "Lord Millman." After the little drama, my uneventful flight landed in Philly at 4:40 p.m. on Monday, Feb. 6. Back in the U.S. after seven wonderful months in Peru. It snowed Tuesday here, and it's snowing, raining and sleeting tonight (Saturday, Feb. 10). No place like home.