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When I left the hotel in Margao (which feels like a lifetime ago now), the strange man nearly started to cry. At the train station I had a bit of an argument with the internet cafe guy, who wanted me to keep my bag outside of the door and I wanted to keep it with me. I finally convinced him to let me keep it with me.

Then was a 14 hour train ride starting at 8:30am. I only slept 2 non-consecutive hours the previous night, but I was able to sleep an hour at a time on the train. When I got to Mumbai, I walked about a mile to another train station that would get me close to the airport. I met a guy on that train who helped me out. At my station I turned back to him and waved. He gestured, "Go, go," so I jumped off the train though it was still moving.

I got to the airport by midnight and waited until 3am to check in. The line to check in was long and filled with guys going to the middle east to find menial jobs. They asked me for help filling out their immigration cards to get out of India. Mahmoud from Hyderabad wanted to talk to me and asked if I spoke Urdu. He was disappointed when he learned David from Washington DC did not.

It was clearly the first time most of these men had been on a plane. The flight crew was overwhelmed and I tried to help get people in the correct seat. One guy sitting across from me kept watching me every time the flight attendants gave me something so he'd no what to do. For the previous 5 weeks, I would've been watching him for the same reason.'

I was very nervous that I'd miss my flight to New York and be stuck in Kuwait. The flight to Kuwait was delayed. Luckily they held the flight to New York. I can say now that it's over and I won't scare the hell out of my mom that we flew over Baghdad both ways. Donald Rumsfeld is right, the whole country doesn't look like it's on fire when you fly over it. It looks like clouds and sky.

I have a feeling that story will progress like this:

Me, now: I flew over Baghdad during the war. Kinda cool.

My kids: My daddy was in Baghdad during the war.

My grandchildren: My grandpa fought in the Iraq war and killed 23 people himself with his bare hands.

I made it to New York, stayed for a few days. And now I'm home.