Where is my bunting?

Where’s my bunting?

I had a pretty good time around the world. I traveled a lot and had to pass through a number of different airports and customs/immigration checks. So when I finally arrived home after a month of being away from the US of A I was expecting some serious fireworks. I’m saying that I want a fucking sign that says “welcome home patriot” or something with my name. I want fucking ice cream to be served for American citizens when the get off the plane in the US. There should be a fucking brass band and it should be playing the fucking star spangled banner. Because what the fuck is it that makes the US such a great place to be? I mean besides the white women. But you know what? When I got to immigration there was one line for citizens and there was one line for foreign passports and they both seemed to be moving at the same pace. And you know when I got to that line I did not receive a complimentary massage because of my status as an American citizen. The guy behind the counter did not give me a hearty handshake and say welcome back to the land of the free, friend. No. It was just another dingy immigration check with no red, white, and blue bunting. When I was through it I had to walk along to pick up my bags just like every other country I had been through. I was not impressed.