Addendum: Home is ever so sweet.

Yesterday, our Riad owner delivers us to the Casablanca airport (named Mohammed V) airport after a lovely breakfast. The Riad owner, by the way, has told us about Mr. Peacock. You can’t cage him up or he will wither and die. And a female needs to be out with him so he will spread his feathers and do his dance. A female human doesn’t have the same effect…apparently.

Flying out of Casablanca…be warned…just to enter the airport, you have to go through an army checkpoint and everything is screened via X-ray. By the way, all these army guys are tall and slender. In fact, mere observation, there are many tall Moroccans – the 20s and 30s crowd. Older generations, much shorter. It’s a marked difference. 

Grubb’s hip sets off the xray detectors. He tries to communicate he’s got metal in his hip. The guard/screener stares at his hip then shrugs and waves him through.

Okay, now we’re cooking. We are in the building.

After checkin at Air Canada, head to airport security where Grubb’s pack is emptied and scrutinized because the scanner has revealed scissors in Grubb’s pack. Yep, there is a tiny pair of blunt-end scissors in his mini first aid kit. The metal in his hip replacement sets off the alarms and gets another mere wave. 

Then passport control. Slow as molasses. But, the Moroccans love babies. Anyone with a baby or young child is escorted to the front of the line. As are older folk with canes. The seas parted. Barriers opened. The line kept growing in front of us. A little surreal. Like a reverse timeline? I could visualize a scenario in which we never get to the front of the line. We do finally have our turn to be scrutinized. And were found unremarkable. Go…git!

Just when we think we are home free, we see there is yet another checkpoint at our gate area. Another passport and boarding pass check. Some were pulled aside for a pat down. Not us unremarkable folk.

Took us about an hour and a half all together from airport entrance to gate. And the place wasn’t even very busy. Could easily have been 3 or 4 hours had the airport been a little busier.

7.5 hours to touchdown in Montreal. 6 hour layover. If you are continuing to the US, you go through security, passport control and customs to serve as clearing you to enter the U.S. So on arrival at LAX (after a 5.5 hour flight), nothing to do but walk off the plane and out to the hotel shuttle. Which happened to be the party bus. Disco music blasting, psychedelic light show spinning on interior roof. Passengers rockin’ Disco down dude.

Homewood Suites overnight. Super quiet, comfy bed, sufficient hot water, good WiFi. What else can you ask for? Oh, and a respectable breakfast.

This morning, amazing…hotel to gate…15 minutes. Really! Including Grubb’s pat down at security. That damned metal hip. Here, TSA takes it seriously. Gunpowder residue check on fingers. The whole thing. Finally, Southwest flight to Albuquerque.

Take a deep breath. Home. 

We are so lucky to be able to travel. But homecoming is always so sweet.

See you on the next journey!