I’m at the Atlanta Hartsfield Airport in the boarding area for the flight back to Phoenix. After an exhausting flight from Johannesburg, at this point we’re roughly three-quarters of the way home.
The formalities in Atlanta were tolerable. The low point, as usual, was the TSA checkpoint. For the second time this trip, it was Kathryn, not I, who lashed out verbally at a TSA “officer”. The CBP folks, on the other hand, were both professional and personable. Even when a beagle signaled on someone else’s bag, the officers were courteous to the passenger involved.
We had told ourselves we would have McDonald’s exactly once while in South Africa, but somehow we were never near one at the right time. Instead, I had McDonald’s for breakfast here in Atlanta. They offer the chicken biscuit sandwiches here. They are no longer on the menu in Phoenix, so I had one. It should fill the gap until I get home. It was the first time I’d used U.S. dollars since Christmas Day, and I’m fairly sure I could have bought two McDonald’s breakfasts in South Africa for the price of the one I bought here.