- I realised I'd left my kilogram of duty-free Jelly Babies on the plane
- I was asked awkward questions by immigration about when I'd last been to South or Central America. My answer ("Never") seemed strangely inadequate, but they let me past eventually.
- I had just shared my relief with tinyjo when we hit another check-point, at which I was whisked away to a 'verification area' where they took my passport and told me to sit down and wait. And that was all. After half an hour, I was called up and asked how long I was staying in the US, several times, with exactly the same intonation each time. I guess I passed this test, because with no further ado, they released me. I dearly wanted to ask if this was going to happen next time I tried to get into the US, but I really didn't want to draw any more attention to myself than I had already, so instead I fled with what I judged to be an optimal combination of innocence and speed into the waiting arms of a very worried tinyjo.
After that, things picked up. We picked up the rental car which was the smallest that they do, i.e. 4 doors and a vast
And what a place to arrive to! rahaeli and sarahq live in a vast and gorgeous book-lined studio apartment in a converted pajama factory, which is in fact as cool as it sounds. By the times we arrived, we'd been travelling for about 16 hours, so were somewhat zombified. Our gracious hostesses provided us with the necessities of life: hugs, cats, conversation, beer, rare steak, and a very comfy bed. The Great American Roadtrip had begun.