I’ve been traveling/awake for nearly 36 hours, oddly developing a chest cold (thanks for nothing Swiss Air.) But I’m alert and hyper. Two cancelled flights, three gigantic cups of coffee, munificent amounts of snow, a quick visit to The Met, a Melon burger and a Budweiser, this American is happy to be home.

I hate to travel. With the combination of anxiety and motion sickness, I get incredibly testy, incredibly quickly. The flight from Zurich to New York, with it’s prolonged departure and jostling ride, put my nerves on edge, and sent tears down my cheeks. But we arrived safely and weeded our way through customs. It’s funny how a single string of words can make you feel better, you know, raise your spirits a little. For me it’s the customs stamping of one’s passport accompanied by the “Welcome Home” that never fails to make my heart feel hopelessly big.

As many have probably read, seen or heard, a large snowstorm hit the North East yesterday, coating every inch of everything in thick, white and (in this Mainer’s opinion) exquisite snow. It was like flying home into a veritable snow globe. Chase and I both had connecting flights in JFK, but quickly learned that we wouldn’t be making it home to our homes that evening and had to make alternate plans in the City. Many sad tears were shed, for after traveling for 24 hours, incurring the curt Swiss and eating cold plane food, all one wants to see is their mama.

Everything is dusted white in New York, the Rockerfeller Center Christmas Tree, Madison Avenue, the Saks store front all lustrous and magical seeming. So although stranded and missing my home and mama for a night, New York seems to be a perfect substitute.