Klaus made us a terrific breakfast fit for a king and queen. The eggs he served up were delivered with “Pfeffer Himmel,” a pepper blend from a favorite shop in Fulda, Germany, called Der feine Vanilleladen. Instead of waiting for a package to arrive from the Engelhardt’s with my own personal supply of  “Pepper Heaven,” I ordered 6 x 90-gram bottles after getting home. I’m guessing that a pound of this stuff should last me a few months at least.

The Engelhardt’s brought us to the airport on time even though we knew our flight was late just in case it was somehow moved forward. While we would leave more than an hour and a half later than scheduled, we still landed three minutes early in the States.

Our flight was unspectacular and long, with practically no turbulence. Previously, on winter trips, we’d have some of the worst turbulence. We flew Condor Air as it was nearly a thousand dollars cheaper for the two of us round trip from Phoenix to Frankfurt.

We managed to stay awake for the entirety of the flight to Washington. Every so often, I’d sneak a peek out the windows although we were asked to close the shades for the “comfort” of the other passengers, but I didn’t want to get sleepy. Opening the shade from time to time was a blinding experience after my eyes had adjusted to the dim display of my notebook. I suppose keeping the shade closed was a good thing as it forced me to spend more time writing. With the display at 25% brightness, I had power for nine hours on the flight and still had power to spare when we landed. Isn’t the Earth beautiful?

Coming in over southwest Canada and entering Washington and Northern Cascades, we must be landing soon. I was hoping for a glimpse of Mt. Rainier over the clouds, but no luck.

This has been the most godawful reentry into America I have ever had. We Americans are fat in the most horrible of ways, and it’s spread out across the terminal like the plague. People are in the gate area, slopping up their gruel wrapped in paper with their bucket-sized cups of soda. The first nearly dozen electric outlets we tried were dead. We’ve just landed in Seattle, the home of Amazon and Microsoft, and we can’t recharge our mobile devices. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread that I’d fallen into a bucket of stupidity.

I left a different Frankfurt than the one I lived in more than 20 years ago. Gone is the Frankfurter with the clenched jaw and stoic, almost angry look that has been replaced by the happy American look. I understand that Seattle sees a lot of gray skies, but it’s the second week of June, and we came into partly sunny skies and beautiful weather; winter is long gone. The people in this airport look grim and morose.

On my way to get something to eat, seeing we’ll be arriving in Phoenix shortly before 23:00 when NOTHING is open in our hometown, I passed dozens of people eating out of paper and plastic. Compared to the dining situation at the Frankfurt airport, it is primitive beyond belief here. At Wolfgang Puck’s, I ordered a sandwich delivered in a plastic box on “Italian” white bread with a few slices of salami and eight pieces of pepperoni, some cheese, tomato, and banana peppers for nearly $17.00. This was the concept of an “Italian Meat” sandwich.

A man behind the pizza counter languidly makes pizzas. I’m struck as to why he’s working what must be a minimum-wage job. I ask him his age, and he tells me he’s 67 years old; what’s he doing in a teenager’s job during retirement? I’m not in awe of his industriousness, as I’m too taken aback by our lack of a safety net for seniors.

The more I look around me, the more I see the look of uncertainty on far too many faces. Clothes are sloppy and loose, as are the intellect and bodies. Someone who overhears a small part of my lament as we are waiting to board our flight to Phoenix chimes in with his own take on why America has gone “downhill,” and it has to do with “Minorities and the lack of English being taught to our children by foreigners.” WTF we are being assaulted with blatant racism by a total stranger. Pass me a barf bag.

After getting into Europe, I had some jet lag; upon the return to America I’m reeling in cultural jet lag.