Last night or rather yesterday morning we made our way back to Camp Rousseau. Everything has gone as I suspected. The lines, the waiting, the inspections.
If one has never gone through a military customs, one cannot appreciate what boredom and waiting in line is really like.
Last night they gave us a customs form to fill out. On it we put down what we bought while in Panama. The only thing I had to declare was a machete. Later that night Jerry and a couple of others went to the local VFW down the road, drank, ate and watched the news. We got plenty of each.
Before that however we were all herded into the "bubble." The bubble is sort of like a Quonset hut but kept erect by blowing air inside it. There we were instructed to dump our duffel bags on the floor and stand behind it. Custom agents went through the baggage confiscating some objects or making sure other items were cleaned properly. No amount of dirt or mud was allowed to be taken out of Panama.
At 9:30 we emptied our carry on bags on the cots we slept on and made to stand in line and they searched them and any carry on packages we might have had. They then conducted a personal body search.
We were taken to the plane, piled on and I went to sleep. As I was drifting in and out of sleep I heard a bell go off. I looked up and saw a sign that read, "fasten seat belt, Life vests under seat. I thought we were going to crash because we started banking to the left at the same time. I could not get the life vest free from under the seat and noticed that no one else seemed to be in a panic. I was puzzling what to do when the Captain of the plane came on and announced we were making or decent into Birmingham. We landed with out trouble.
Note: We flew from Birmingham to St. Louis, caught a truck and headed back to Independence. The trip was over. The adoption thing never happened. I never got called up.
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