The trip home is never so easy...

The taxi was projected to take an hour. It did not. Mercifully short, I arrive at the airport with plenty of time to spare. I'll need it. The ticketing goes with no problem. I have my boarding pass with directions to the de-tax office. This is how you get a tax refund for purchases within the continent... more specifically, France. Having bought an incredibly expensive pair of jeans and a shirt at a boutique, I was most interested in acquiring my refund. However the directions ultimately led me through customs. Then back through them (entering the country again) and back out again. Talk about a pain in my ass. Going through the airport security blows, even more so when you must accomplish the task twice. And re-entry of the country you just 'left' just the little tweak on your nose. Mis-directed by no less than 6 individuals, I finally find the tax refund office. Thankfully, I don't have to unpack my suitcase to demonstrate the goods I purchased as the law requires/mandates/allows for. The people in front of me did. Rebate on tax is deniable if the goods are not producible. God forbid you ship them. Finally, tax stamps acquired, I am free to re-enter the de-embarkation point. Through the bomb check with the cloth swipe is more severe the second time. I'm so beyond pissed at this point. I've gone through three levels of the airport looking for a path to the place I’m supposed to be, lugged my bags so much further than required, worked up a sweat in the process. Finally, I sink into a seat in the lounge. A glass of champagne, a chardonnay, a screwdriver and an armagnac (business class does have it's privileges after all) and I'm calm and relaxed for my flight. OK, the glasses are small, and it's past noon, I'm also well past the legal drinking age of 21. I board my flight on schedule and we launch into the air. I barely register the takeoff after my blood pressure has been so elevated. lol Dinner is served nearly immediately. The appetizer inedible after the meals I've consumed recently. The main course barely more so. The in-flight movie choices are Meet the Fokker’s (which I watch - and once in awhile laugh over the situations). And some Peter Pan flick with Johnny Depp... yes, I'm snoozing already.

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I'm ready to begin something new. Is that just going home to my job? Perhaps. It might be something else entirely.

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Sadly, I didn't snooze long enough. I still have to endure 2:40 hours of flight. I always wonder about the small things in our lives that cause us pleasure. How is a smile derived overnight from a particular source? Simply opening ones mind to these kinds of things doesn't seem quite enough, but I'm willing to accept it at this point. After a long time of not really smiling, it's the little things that seem to matter the most. The source of my smile shall remain private, but I'll acknowledge it nonetheless.