We never feel more like criminals than when we reenter the US. I have the stupidest reaction when I see immigration. I actually get excited. I think to myself, "Hooray, won't my country be so happy to have me back." Of course that's never the case. Suddenly no one will help my pregnant wife get overweight luggage off the conveyor belt while I am in the bowels of the Seattle airport, seeing our cat through his inspection by TSA, and aren't I an idiot for not immediately understanding that TSA approval is the same as clearing him with Customs. Everyone who's been awake for 22 hours knows that sort of thing.
This flight across the pacific was by far the most interesting I ever hope to have. Since J is pregnant it meant I was pretty much in charge of everything: bags, cat, customs, and making sure she had eaten and was comfortable. But despite unforeseeable things like a shin jarring landing in Taipei and 23 hours spent in what seemed like jail in a Taoyuan City hotel ("those transfer passengers attempting to escape will be escorted back to the airport by the border police and placed on the list of undesirable persons"), and a missing bag (the one we paid an extra ฿ 3,900 for) we made it back, and have been here in south-east Texas for a whole week now. In another week we'll be up in Dallas.