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And here I am safe and sound, typing away in shorts and a tank top in Tucson, Arizona! I made it! And do I feel shell-shocked, overwhelmed by the flash and speed of America? No! Okay…a little. As my plane was descending towards JFK airport, I couldn’t believe how fast the cars were zipping around on the little streets below. But I was thrust right back into the rush- I had only two hours to make it from my Morocco flight to my Phoenix flight! I knew that everything had to go perfectly for me to make that Phoenix flight. And things did not start off perfectly- no, not perfectly at all. The plane sat on the runway for forty-five minutes before getting to the gate because of congestion! Aiiggghhh!! But because I knew that perfection of timing was indeed essential in me making the PHX flight, I accepted that I was just not going to make it. I was resigned to the idea of spending the night on the floor of JFK. But when we finally taxied to the gate, I had a change of heart and took off like only a hurried Van Roekel can. Holding my cheap-o African carry-on on my hip because the handle Was about to break, I sprinted to customs, where I explained my situation to the officer watching the line snake through the poles and asked if he could help me out. He replied, “No can do. Your flight’s at six? Ehh…you might make it.”

After customs, I lit out for the domestic terminal and realized with dismay that I had to get on a train to get there! Aiggghh! But luckily my terminal was only two stops away. As soon as the doors hissed open, I took off. I screeched to a halt when I reached the teeming check-in area. I was standing there, bewilderedly searching for the USAirways check-in, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I had dropped my passport on the train and some kind man had sprinted after me to give it back! Aigggh!

From there on, it was pretty smooth sailing. I found the check-in counter, checked in, and proceeded to security, where I stood shaking, trying to calm my pounding heart. Had I really made it? Was I really almost home free? Friends, I was. I made it to the gate just as boarding started and after a quick “Mom! I MADE IT!! See you soon!” phone call, took my place in line. My seat was next to these nice old people and as I sat down, I was thinking, “Kate, don’t be weird, don’t be weird, don’t be weird.” But I couldn’t help it! I’ve spent two years greeting people with long, extended, rambling questions. I’ve spent two years starting conversations with strangers because there’s nothing else to do but talk. No sooner had I buckled my seat belt than, “Hi, how are you? Where you from? Where you going? Oh, that sounds nice,” had popped out of my mouth. Dang it! They didn’t talk to me for the rest of the flight.

The five hour flight to Phoenix was much more torturous than the ten hour flight to New York had been. I’d been up for about 36 hours (Thursday night we had toasted some volunteers finishing service; Friday night my flight left at 2:35 AM, and now here it was Saturday night) and felt sick-to-my-stomach tired, but couldn’t get comfortable. But exhaustion and discomfort paled in comparison to the bubbly joy I felt in my chest thinking about stepping off the plane.

I saw my brother, Aaron, before he saw me, and my heart did a happy little flip flop. His face cracked into this huge grin when he saw me. He strode towards me, gave me this cute little embarrassed one-armed half hug, and said something like, “Welp, the car’s this way.” It was so cute! The hour and a half drive down to Tucson seemed very short. We were going so fast! Everyone was going so fast!

Mom and Dad must have been crouched in the laundry room waiting because as soon as the garage door started opening, they burst through the door into the garage. I hugged my sweet little momma and then my sweet ol’ dad as Buddy yapped and ran around our feet. At first he barked at me as if I were a stranger on his turf, but then his ears went back and sniffsniffsniffed me and went crazy. Barking and wagging his stubby tail, he looked over at Mom with this “I know her!’ grin on his face.

Ahhhh, I made it!! I’m home!!

For the most part, adjustment has been going fine. It kind of feels like I never left, or as if I’m visiting Mom and Dad after a semester at school. On the other hand, little things have gotten to me. Aaron was patient enough to take me out iPod shopping on Sunday. Rain dripped through my roof and fried my CD player. I haven’t had any music for a month, so I was insistent about iPod shopping ASAP. Stepping into Target was wild. I trailed behind Aaron, blinking and mute. I was completely overwhelmed by all of this stuff. What is all this stuff?? We continued our iPod search at Radio Shack, but I left the US back in 2004 before iPods got big and I knew nothing about them. I tried to ask the salesman at Radio Shack something and it came out all gobbeldygooked. I looked pleadingly at Aaron for help and he rephrased it into normal English. We then continued on to Blockbuster and as we were checking out, I simply could not say anything. I couldn’t remember how that checking-out-a-movie encounter was supposed to go. What do you say? What do you do?