If you can remember back to my final Japan post (perhaps it's been too long for most of you), I was super-stressed about making it home with the boys in one piece (well, actually in three pieces, but you know what I mean). I was so stressed that I didn't even give proper goodbyes to some of you--something I still regret. Knowing what I know now, I should have just sat back and relaxed, because my return flight home was going to be a destined to be a disaster, no matter what I did.
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ME A TERRORIST?At the Fukuoka airport, after managing to get the woman at the check-in desk to ask her supervisor if I was allowed to check my six large suitcases because I had purchased my three tickets through a U.S. company (she kept insisting I wasn't, which it turned out in the end I was), I was again delayed, this time by gate security. The women at the carry-on conveyor belt were saying that I had a knife in my luggage.
A knife? The only knives I owned were of the kitchen variety, and I was positive that I didn't pack those in my carry-ons. I told them that I didn't have a knife in my luggage, but they were positive I did and began asking me to search through the suitcase. I didn't find a knife, but they did confiscate my eyebrow tweezers that were shaped like scissors.
After running my suitcase through the x-ray machine several more times, they asked me if I would pull everything out of my suitcase and put it on the table. As luck would have it, this was the suitcase containing my bras and panties. I wasn't about to pull them out in front of other airline customers to find a non-existent weapon. I told them I didn't want to. When they questioned why, I told them it was embarrassing and that my underwear was in there. Probably because I was speaking Japanese and the Japanese seem to understand using embarrassment as an excuse, they let me get away with this (in the States they wouldn't have bought it, but then again, in the States they would have pulled me behind dividers away from the public before asking me to unpack my belongings). However, they continued to insist I had a knife and kept running my bag through the machine.
After about twenty minutes of me adamantly insisting I possessed no weapon and them adamantly telling me I did, they informed me of the knife's exact location and asked me to pull it out. I unzipped the front pocket of the suitcase and reached down to the bottom right hand side to pull out a knife...
Oops.
In my defense, I would I would like a chance to explain: My carry-on was the same piece of luggage my husband had used when he entered Japan, and he had evidently succeeded in smuggling this pocket knife aboard, only to forget to ever unpack it. It hadn't been disturbed since...until now.
I apologized profusely. The airport ladies were actually very understanding about the incident and asked me if I wanted to pick the knife up after the flight. I said no. I figured my husband at least deserved to lose his pocketknife after putting me through that ordeal.
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WHAT THE HECK?When I purchased airline tickets for me and the boys, I bought tickets from Fukuoka to Seoul to San Francisco to Boise, as this was the cheapest route. (I would then drive to my new hometown after visiting my Idaho relatives). I had to submit an agreement with the airline stating that my children would be supervised by an adult during the flight. I assumed this meant that
I was supposed to supervise them, but for our flight from Seoul to San Francisco, our three seats were spread completely apart on the plane, so I guess maybe they just meant my children were to be supervised by
any adult?
When I discovered how far apart I was sitting from the boys, I immediately informed the stewardesses and asked to be moved. They told me that this was impossible and that I should go sit down in my own seat. I explained that my youngest child was only four years old and that there was no way he would endure an 11-hour flight without me. They seemed completely unconcerned and told me to take my seat.
I decided I would have to take matters into my own hands. I explained to the woman seated next to Everett that he was my child and the airline had accidentally sat us apart--Would she mind trading me places? She said no, she wanted a window seat. (As if she was going to be able to enjoy that window seat next to a whimpering four-year-old!) Fortunately, some other, more compassionate passengers overheard my situation and we arranged to trade seats so I could sit by Everett. We even managed to get Jared sitting directly behind us. The stewardesses seemed annoyed that we had traded seats without permission, but they would have been thankful had they had realized how difficult the flight would have been for them taking care of a lonely and disoriented little boy.
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DAIJOUBUDespite my grumblings, everything turned out alright in the end, and the kids and I made it to the U.S. safe and sound (sound of body that is--I'll save the report on my state of mind for later).
I'm eager to hear what you've all been up to, so I'm taking a break to surf the blogs.
Until next time,
J-girl
