“THIS WAY, SIR,” an airport agent calls to me as I stand jet lagged in the US citizens line. I approach a booth and am prompted to print out a photo of my face, which is a completely new process to me. I then bring all of the required papers to the customs officer, and had an odd sense of worry about what he might ask me.
“So, what are you bringing home, son?”
“Uh, treats, candy and other stuff like that.”
Then he waves me off with a most halfhearted, “See ya.”