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'Where did you meet these friends?'
(Arr-g-g-gh!) 'At a knitting show.'
'You go to a lot of knitting shows, don't you? You were here two weeks ago, and I talked to you!' he says accusingly.
'Uh-h-h, yes, that was me.' (My heart has stopped and I'm expecting to be taken off to the Inquisition or the hospital.)
He says 'Well, have a nice time!' and smiles as he scribbles something on the customs form that I must turn in at the other end of the hall after retrieving my bag (which is huge and weights 64.5 lbs). Wow, feeling more than a little apprehensive, I make my way to the other end of the very long, empty room where these two guys have been watching my progress, it seems, every step of the way (mental note, try to look calm, cool and innocent). I look at the form to see if I can decipher what the agent has scribbled, but as usual, it must be in code and I have no clue. I make the choice to go to the guy on the right and he greets me with, 'I’m so glad to see you again. When you were here last week, (it really was two weeks ago, same day, same flight) I wanted to tell you how nice you looked, and you look fabulous again today. It's great to see someone all dressed up, especially on this flight. Usually people look like they just rolled out of bed.' My mouth is opening and closing, and I don't know what to say, afraid to take a breath. He, too, tells me to have a good time! I feel like I’m in the twilight zone!
I go through the doors (I’m free, no one has grabbed me from behind!) to put this bag on the conveyor to be checked through to Connecticut and the agent from the bus is there, grinning at me. ‘I guess I’m doing this a little too often if the Customs guys are recognizing me.’ I say.
‘Oh, I remember you too! Love your coat, it looks great!’
I finally arrive in Hartford, via Detroit, at 4 pm. The press isn’t there.