DAY 8 - August 21, 2004 - Homeward Bound

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” – Nelson Mandela

Granted, Nelson Mandela probably meant the years of incarceration he had to endure, but I came across that quote in a novel about a woman who went away on vacation and I kind of felt like it applies to anytime anyone goes away.

You might only have been gone for a week, but sometimes, it seems like a whole lot longer.

And maybe the changes are subtle --- maybe all you feel is recharged and not so mindlessly stuck in the daily routine that makes up your life --- but the change is still there...for awhile, at least.

Since we were supposed to be among the first batch of people to get off the ship, we had to be up extra early.

You have no idea how torturous that is. Waking up every morning in the pitch black darkness of the cabin has a strange and weird effect on you. I could have slept 24 hours straight and still felt tired because it always felt like it was still the dead of night.

You end up stumbling around at first like a zombie and it's always a little surprising to see it's light out.

The Windjammer Café was even going to be open an hour earlier at 6 a.m.

Our assistant waiter, Ramon, spotted us and helped me look for a table that was big enough to seat eight near the window. When he couldn’t find one, he pushed several tables together and got us some coffee and juice.

“He must have really liked his tip,” I joked lamely to my sister.

Some people like to be served. I still find it awkward and weird.

Knowing this would be my last “big” breakfast in awhile, I loaded up on all the greasy stuff I could find. I got sausage links, bacon, hash browns, scrambled eggs, pancakes and French toast.

I also grabbed some skim milk --- you know, to be healthy.

As we started eating breakfast, I looked out the window and could see the skyline of Miami.

Throughout the whole week, I'd never managed to get up early enough to see the sun rise. And today, when I looked out the window and the world still looked like night, I realized we were in for a rainy day and wouldn't be seeing any sun rise today, either.

It seemed fitting in a way.

It would have been hard to leave if the sky was clear and the sun was shining.

We didn’t really talk it over, but Flo was the one who had to scout for our forest green suitcase while I stood off to the side with Aunt Ying and Uncle Wei Kuo while they waited for their two boys to lug over their heavy cases.

I was briefly worried about the fact that our plane was leaving from Fort Lauderdale at 11:30 a.m. (I wasn't so worried that I didn't manage to pass out the minute the bus started moving. And yes, I do realize that it seems like I was always sleeping on this trip.)

It didn’t seem like there was a lot of time for the bus to drive from Miami to Fort Lauderdale and then clear through all the security checks and customs points at the airport.

But we found ourselves sitting by our departure gate with 90 minutes to spare.

Sprawled out with all of our carry on luggage around our feet, we sucked on these mint jellies that Aunt Ying had brought with her while we talked about all sorts of things.

Anybody eavesdropping would have thought we were all crazy...but crazy in a good way.

Flo was busy snapping pictures of the view from the window as soon as we got onto the plane.

As the airplane started to lift, I got that queer feeling in the pit of my stomach and tried not to look at my sister. It's weird, 'cause when you start thinking too much about how you're trapped on a plane, with nowhere to really stretch your legs, a mild sense of panic sets in.

But maybe that's just me.

I was sandwiched between Flo, who was by the window, and by Aunt Ying.

She’d made it a point to put Theresa and Uncle Wei Kuo by the side seats as well because those two “love to pee.”

On West Jet, they give out snacks and lunch — thank God. We were so hungry by the time they started handing out those lunch boxes that it didn’t matter that the food wasn’t all that good. Aunt Ying kept making these jokes about how it was just like the cruise food and that it was “so good.”

There was chicken pasta salad with really dry slabs of white meat. There was also a kidney bean and green bean salad. Lunch came with a slab of brick cheese, crackers and a brownie.

The way I was wolfing everything down, you’d think I’d been stranded on a deserted island for the last couple of weeks and this was the first time I was eating.

I was passed out again right after eating, trying to will away the two and a half hours it’d take for us to get back to Toronto.

Nearing Pearson Airport, the plane hit a rough patch of turbulence that shook the cabin, making everyone jolt upwards in their seats and grab their arm rests as people shrieked in panic. When the wheels of the plane finally touched ground, the whole cabin erupted in grateful, enthusiastic applause.

The flight attendant was amused.

“Well, well,” he said into the intercom, clearing his throat and trying not to bust out laughing. “How’d you all like that little stomach adjustment back there?”

He tried to assure us it was perfectly normal, but I don’t think anybody was listening at that point. We were more concerned with getting off the plane and heading home.

Our luggage hadn’t even arrived on the conveyor belt when we went to collect it.

There were trolleys available for us to use. Uncle Wei Kuo commented it was so much better than in Florida, where there were porters standing around with the trolleys and you had to tip them.

I think that’s where most of your money goes on vacation — towards tips.

A lot of people had tied something to their bags so they could spot them more easily.

All of our bags had come back to Toronto without any locks on them.

Because our flight was leaving so early, the airport people told us to make sure the bags weren’t locked so they could riffle through our underwear and clothes to make sure we weren’t hiding weapons of mass destruction under our socks.

We were all pretty quiet and subdued as we made our way out through the arrivals area and waited for my dad and for Sheng to arrive to collect us.

As we climbed into the van, Daniel and Darren sat in the back while Flo and I were in the middle and Uncle Wei Kuo was up front with dad, going over how our trip was.

There was a long traffic jam and we all dozed off — as if we didn’t get enough sleep on the plane already.

When we said good-bye, it was a little weird. You’ve only spent 8 days with a group of people, but it seems like a lot longer. (Trust me. It feels a lot longer.

But then time passes and you look back and everything seems...welll...better than it really was.