Acapulco was the grand finale of an exciting week; white sand beaches above a frothy surf, cool draughts beneath rustling palms, tempting meals and flea market sprees, and a special evening roving the quiet shoreline after sunset. It all seemed an incredible fantasy, especially in retrospect, having spent a week apart from familiarity. Only one aspect of the days in Acapulco could have been channeled into a category other than fantasy; after days of careful food consumption, the inevitable curse of Montezuma fell upon me. Luckily, I was not so horridly afflicted that it made any appreciable difference in my plans; perhaps after so many years, Montezuma's need for revenge had become less poignant. Or it could have been the Kaopectate. Of course, I do not support superstitious curses as being the cause. . . but when the affect is of such magnitude, I bear arms to combat the siege. On Easter Sunday we boarded a jet and headed for Chicago. Between shifting positions, stretching, peeps out of the porthole windows and in-flight snacks, the hours drifted past. Somehow, the holiday itself was lost. I simply was not accustomed to spending spring break away from home, let alone Easter in mid-air. It reminded me of the Christmas my family spent in Florida; I felt cheated even though I had fun. My mild depression left with the landing in Chicago, where we deplaned and motored the remaining distance. Norm met me in his old Belvedere. He and his fish car were a welcome sight as I stepped into the frigid air. It had even snowed since I was last home. This was reality, I thought with a smile. The trip ended as suddenly as it had begun, taken in the wintry gusts and buried beneath the joy of homecoming. I watched the others as they turned and whirled, anxiously seeking their families and securing their luggage in a wild flurry of activity. This was the world I knew; Mexico was far away, and soon its memory would be a distant, clouded image, destined to share only the past. For the present I shared the glowing impressions in my mind, relating the vast differences amid basic human cohesiveness. Despite various cultures, people remained relatively the same; I thought of the curiosity of the child and the calculating hatred of the patriarch, knowing that such people existed in every city. Well into the night I rambled excitedly of my experiences abroad, content that I was home. I might fit in many places, but home was where I belonged.