Home Sick

I never should have walked into Fred Meyers department store. I was lured in by the 'One Hour Photo' sign and the promise of getting my latest roll of film back with virtually no wait. It was too great to resist. My heart sank though when my one hour was stretched to seven days due to the special E-6 processing required for slides.

I turned to go. Why I chose turning to my right instead of my left, I'll never know, but when I turned, there in front of me was row upon row of bright colored screens, all screaming images of Deep Space Nine. I should have averted my eyes. I shouldn't have allowed them to register anything more than a series of blinking dots. But I couldn't.

It was at that moment that I realized how much I missed sitting on my leather sofa, watching my own 27" color TV, listening to my surround sound and eating a slice of my Grandma's apple pie. Could this be the first sign of home sickness? Something had to be done.

I left the store, but the memory of what I had seen haunted me. There was only one thing I could do; one cure. With the VISA handed over, I accepted the keys to room 209 at the Shilo Inn. I threw my pack on the floor and raced to the TV. The color was bad, it was too bright, the sound only mono; but it didn't matter. Janet and I sat there in that room, mesmerized by the glow, soaking in two hours of the 25th century and finally feeling closer to home.