come back to San Diego ...
It was evening and the ordeal of my 12 hours flight from Taipei had ended with a bus ride from the airplane to a very large building that I later came to know as the Tom Bradley International terminal, Los Angeles.
Inside the huge building I got line for immigration, and what a long line it was. And there were so many more just like the one I was lost in. After shuffeling for what seemed like forever, with strangers bumping me, being rude with cell phone, coughing germs all over the place and doing other things people do in line, I finally was front and center. It was my turn! The INS officer official in his demeanor and smile, asked me several questions. I smiled at him and he continued as he smiled back...in his official way, big bright shinning badge, creased uniform and bald hair cut. "Mrs. Ton welcome back to America". I was a bit stupefied and tongue-tied. And his official smile....and that shining badge. A warm feeling and I realized that America has been always in my heart.
Through the fog of my jet lag, I followed the crowd to the luggage carousel and found out that my luggage would be on one of tow carousels assigned to our flight. What madness! There were lugages for the 400 plus passengers on my EVA 747 flight. I searched and searched for my luggage and it is not easy being 5 foot and searching for luggage in an American airport. Of course there were many other 5 foot Asians looking too, but we were bumping into one another trying to look under the arms of the Americans and everyone else over 5 foot 8. What a chore that was. I kept looking at the carousels, scurrying back and forth looking………there it is! Nope. OK, this is it! Nope! Finally I saw my bags on the floor. Someone had taken them off the carousel and when they discovered it was not their bags, they just abandoned them where they sat!
The next gateway to pass through was customs people...and in a very fast voice they fired at me: "Do you have any kind of food you want to declare?" "I have many kind of food but there are no meat, no fruits, no seeds or soil..." I replied in a dry pensive voice. And I thought for sure that they would open my luggage as the were doing that day to many other Asian travelers, but I guessed Buddha had heard my cry for help back at the luggage madness. The officer scribbled something on the form I gave him, talked softly to the lady officer standing there with him, and waved me on and away. I looked back and he was still talking to the lady officer and ignoring the family standing there ... I guessed he had important business to conduct with her, maybe at lunch time or when they got off from work. Maybe some undercover work they had planned. It was as I turned my head back to the direction I was walking that I realized I was returning to America. "Helly America, it has been a long time."
I asked for information for my next flight to San Diego with American Eagle Airline and was told to go to domestic terminal 4. Oh, and it was only 4 blocks away from the building I was in at the time, Tom Bradley International. In addition to the every present fog of jet lag I now had 2 very heavy suitcases packed tight with Vietnamese food for my sister. I wanted to dump it all right then and there in my despair. I was so tired and so confused, but I didn’t toss the food and I began to walk, still not sure if I was going in the right direction or not. Every fiber on my 5 foot body ached. I was just too old for this……Buddha, God where are you? Somehow I plodded on to Terminal 4 and wandered a little until I saw the light of American Airlines, I was there……almost. Well, I was on the second floor and I was told the check-in area was on the ground floor. NAMMO BUDDHA .. I was not allowed to take the rock filled luggage using the escalator so I had to search for the elevator. At the check-in counter I was told my flight was gone. I was late. My heart skipped a beat. I was given a seat on the next flight to San Diego by a very understanding lady worker who knew or suspected that my heart had stopped and tears were near. Soon enough I was aboard what I later learned Americans call a “puddle jumper” but I did not mind. I did not have the bags to wrestle and the seat of the small airplane was good for me, no problem. That was a very small plane with just about 40 seats. Seemed like it was DC 10. It was a very happy feeling when I was on the flight to San Diego. My parents and my sister, my only one dear sister, were so close and my heart started again, but this time it was happy. I was close and I had not seen my sister for years. The airplane rumbled down the runway and with a jerk the plane seemed to leap into the air and I said good bye crazy LA and then fell asleep.
Within what seemed like just a few seconds I was waken by a bounce and screenching tires as the airplane landed in San Diego and quickly taxied to the gate. So after I was out of the plane, I saw right away my parents. I could tell they were anxious and worried behind the glass wall, worried since I wasn't on my original planned flight. I was bursting with love and joy when I saw my parents and it was right then that I realized that I was so hungry, very hungry. I had slept through a meal on the plane and at LAX I was too busy, confused, frustrated and had no time to eat. Dad and mom were so relived to have methere that with their efforts on my behalf my luggage was retrieved quickly, secured in the trunk of the car and we were off in no time to the closet pho restaurant that dad knew in the area. The conversation was quiet, excited and then the pho bo was soon presented and I sucked it down in what seemed to be 30 seconds. My parents looked and smiled and I was again their little girl.
Finally I was home, it was about 11 pm. I was in my San Diego hometown, the place I left years ago and had no chance to return. My dear sister greeted me with glee but the food was her first love that night as she kept eating the whole night the treasure chest of food I brought for her from Vietnam. She missed me, but tonight she missed the Vietnamese food flavor more. Watching her eating I realized just how fast time had passed. Still there...the time we were together when we both just 2 little girls, arguing all the time. Then my sister was a mature lady with 2 children of her own and was pregnant once again…….and so was I.
As the fog lifted from my head I think it was the second day in San Diego that my sister took me shopping. She told me that my English was a bit weird. It was easy to understand her insight as I had not had many chances to speak English with Americans in Vietnam. I mostly spoke English with Europeans and Asians in stead and of course I had an accent that seemed wierd to my sister. As I listened to the sounds as we were shopping I discovered that the unique American English was and accent full of warmth, was enthusiastic, and even full of musical tune. I was happy. All was right with the world while we shopped and there was nothing sweeter than being with family in San Diego.
tpt
Inside the huge building I got line for immigration, and what a long line it was. And there were so many more just like the one I was lost in. After shuffeling for what seemed like forever, with strangers bumping me, being rude with cell phone, coughing germs all over the place and doing other things people do in line, I finally was front and center. It was my turn! The INS officer official in his demeanor and smile, asked me several questions. I smiled at him and he continued as he smiled back...in his official way, big bright shinning badge, creased uniform and bald hair cut. "Mrs. Ton welcome back to America". I was a bit stupefied and tongue-tied. And his official smile....and that shining badge. A warm feeling and I realized that America has been always in my heart.
Through the fog of my jet lag, I followed the crowd to the luggage carousel and found out that my luggage would be on one of tow carousels assigned to our flight. What madness! There were lugages for the 400 plus passengers on my EVA 747 flight. I searched and searched for my luggage and it is not easy being 5 foot and searching for luggage in an American airport. Of course there were many other 5 foot Asians looking too, but we were bumping into one another trying to look under the arms of the Americans and everyone else over 5 foot 8. What a chore that was. I kept looking at the carousels, scurrying back and forth looking………there it is! Nope. OK, this is it! Nope! Finally I saw my bags on the floor. Someone had taken them off the carousel and when they discovered it was not their bags, they just abandoned them where they sat!
The next gateway to pass through was customs people...and in a very fast voice they fired at me: "Do you have any kind of food you want to declare?" "I have many kind of food but there are no meat, no fruits, no seeds or soil..." I replied in a dry pensive voice. And I thought for sure that they would open my luggage as the were doing that day to many other Asian travelers, but I guessed Buddha had heard my cry for help back at the luggage madness. The officer scribbled something on the form I gave him, talked softly to the lady officer standing there with him, and waved me on and away. I looked back and he was still talking to the lady officer and ignoring the family standing there ... I guessed he had important business to conduct with her, maybe at lunch time or when they got off from work. Maybe some undercover work they had planned. It was as I turned my head back to the direction I was walking that I realized I was returning to America. "Helly America, it has been a long time."
I asked for information for my next flight to San Diego with American Eagle Airline and was told to go to domestic terminal 4. Oh, and it was only 4 blocks away from the building I was in at the time, Tom Bradley International. In addition to the every present fog of jet lag I now had 2 very heavy suitcases packed tight with Vietnamese food for my sister. I wanted to dump it all right then and there in my despair. I was so tired and so confused, but I didn’t toss the food and I began to walk, still not sure if I was going in the right direction or not. Every fiber on my 5 foot body ached. I was just too old for this……Buddha, God where are you? Somehow I plodded on to Terminal 4 and wandered a little until I saw the light of American Airlines, I was there……almost. Well, I was on the second floor and I was told the check-in area was on the ground floor. NAMMO BUDDHA .. I was not allowed to take the rock filled luggage using the escalator so I had to search for the elevator. At the check-in counter I was told my flight was gone. I was late. My heart skipped a beat. I was given a seat on the next flight to San Diego by a very understanding lady worker who knew or suspected that my heart had stopped and tears were near. Soon enough I was aboard what I later learned Americans call a “puddle jumper” but I did not mind. I did not have the bags to wrestle and the seat of the small airplane was good for me, no problem. That was a very small plane with just about 40 seats. Seemed like it was DC 10. It was a very happy feeling when I was on the flight to San Diego. My parents and my sister, my only one dear sister, were so close and my heart started again, but this time it was happy. I was close and I had not seen my sister for years. The airplane rumbled down the runway and with a jerk the plane seemed to leap into the air and I said good bye crazy LA and then fell asleep.
Within what seemed like just a few seconds I was waken by a bounce and screenching tires as the airplane landed in San Diego and quickly taxied to the gate. So after I was out of the plane, I saw right away my parents. I could tell they were anxious and worried behind the glass wall, worried since I wasn't on my original planned flight. I was bursting with love and joy when I saw my parents and it was right then that I realized that I was so hungry, very hungry. I had slept through a meal on the plane and at LAX I was too busy, confused, frustrated and had no time to eat. Dad and mom were so relived to have methere that with their efforts on my behalf my luggage was retrieved quickly, secured in the trunk of the car and we were off in no time to the closet pho restaurant that dad knew in the area. The conversation was quiet, excited and then the pho bo was soon presented and I sucked it down in what seemed to be 30 seconds. My parents looked and smiled and I was again their little girl.
Finally I was home, it was about 11 pm. I was in my San Diego hometown, the place I left years ago and had no chance to return. My dear sister greeted me with glee but the food was her first love that night as she kept eating the whole night the treasure chest of food I brought for her from Vietnam. She missed me, but tonight she missed the Vietnamese food flavor more. Watching her eating I realized just how fast time had passed. Still there...the time we were together when we both just 2 little girls, arguing all the time. Then my sister was a mature lady with 2 children of her own and was pregnant once again…….and so was I.
As the fog lifted from my head I think it was the second day in San Diego that my sister took me shopping. She told me that my English was a bit weird. It was easy to understand her insight as I had not had many chances to speak English with Americans in Vietnam. I mostly spoke English with Europeans and Asians in stead and of course I had an accent that seemed wierd to my sister. As I listened to the sounds as we were shopping I discovered that the unique American English was and accent full of warmth, was enthusiastic, and even full of musical tune. I was happy. All was right with the world while we shopped and there was nothing sweeter than being with family in San Diego.
tpt
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