"dude... if i were a celebrity, i wouldn't have sat in business class for eighteen hours."

I have been awake since 3:39 am.

Not even like a little awake or sort of drowsy. I am talking wide awake, reorganizing photos on the computer, making slide shows of the wedding and honeymoon, writing a grocery list. Yeah! Wide-the-fuck awake. So much for bragging about not being jet lagged.

We got back from our honeymoon yesterday. Our flight left from Cape Town at 3 pm on the 5th, to Johannesburg. We transferred in Jo'Burg onto a flight at 7 pm to JFK in New York. We arrived at JFK at 7 am yesterday morning. Basically, the entire trip to South Africa requires about seventeen hours in the air all together.

It sounds like a nightmare, but to be honest it wasn't as bad as I thought. First of all, they feed you a ridiculous amount of food. And it is actually pretty decent. I did get to catch up on some reading and a few movies while I was at it.

Its funny how much I cannot stand flying. When I was younger, I could jump on a plane anyplace. Suddenly, I have developed this incredible fear of flying. Kind of like Meg Ryan in French Kiss:



Even as I am boarding the plane, I am imagining it snapping open and the strong winds whipping us through the plane, baggage crashing all around. I even scan faces around me, wondering if they are thinking the same. I even looked at the people next to me, assessing their personality, thinking, "Well, he seems like a decent enough chap to die with today." It's really insane.

Whenever the wheels touch down on the ground of whatever destination we are going to, I always turn to B and say, "We made it!!!" It's like the biggest feat of my life, that I have risked my life to travel in a plane over an ocean. Let me tell you, I was stocked with prescriptions for this flight. God bless Dr. Susan Park. While I thought I would be popping a tranquilizer (or six) to help my nerves, they went untouched. I did perfectly fine. I didn't even have to hold B's hand at all of the take offs or landings. (Well, maybe a little through turbulence.) All in all, I was pretty proud of myself.

Halfway through the flight home, we realized that Brian had a fever. This did not make for a good flight for him. He was full of body aches and just didn't know what to do with himself. All he wanted was to be in bed.

When we got into JFK, we tried to get out of there as fast as we could. When we approached "Passport Control" B was asked why he had his hat and sunglasses on. Basically, he had them on for the main fact that he was barely walking and was hiding his pale face from everyone. He looked at B and asked, "Are you a celebrity or something?"

I could see that B's patience was slowly tattering away. This poor man just needed to get into bed. He took off his hat and sunglasses and replied in a low tone, "Dude... if I were a celebrity, I wouldn't have sat in business class for the past eighteen hours."

The guy at the booth chuckled. I shot B a glare, and we both sort of giggled nervously. The man scanned his passport and the computer apparently said something inappropriate, and he said, "Well, you're a celebrity now."

He got out of the booth and took B's passport, and threw it into a folder. We were taken to a room, where B was interrogated and searched for identifying tattoos. One of the dip-shit customs cops even asked, "Have you two had any domestic disputes?" I shook my head emphatically no. But B, always the funny guy, says to him, "Well no... unless you count a can of parsley being thrown at my head a time or two." I almost strangled him.

This whole time, my heart is pounding. Poor B is sweating, not out of nerves but for the simple fact he had a fever. My nervousness was giving way to protectiveness. I just wanted to get him out of there, and help him get better. I was about to become a bulldog when the guy simply said, "Alright. Sorry for the inconvenience. Welcome back to NY."

So... home sweet home we finally are. Sifting through dirty laundry, souvenirs and hundreds of pictures. I can't help but feel a bit disappointed that its all over.

I have been up for three hours now, looking through photographs and wanting more than anything to go back for just one more glass of wine at Cape Grace, overlooking the harbor.