Ex-pat life involves airplane travel. Many lives do these days. Some of us live in New York and fly home to visit the folks. My brother travels all over Europe and the Mid-East for his job, squeezing in visits with his kids while balancing the duties of work. I’ve flown home to Minneapolis, on average, about once a year. Last year my life crumbled into a broken cookie, so I stayed put. Since then, I’ve been finding new ingredients and baking up a storm. We’re going to the homeland! Minnesota here we come.

Packing and planning for a trip to the States is an art. Not only do I have to survive a 12 to 13 hour day in airports with two kids, but I plan out my year for the “things I’ll need.” What do I need that Costa Rica couldn’t give me? Not much, but there’s a few things….and since I’m going to the land of plenty- it’s a great bonus to be able to haul them back in my suitcase. Most items I bring back are vitamin supplements that can not be sent here. I’d have to get special permission to get a box of food/vitamins/drugs, and well, nailing myself to a tree would be more pleasant than the thought of dealing with the government, it’s paperwork, and it’s spooky, deep love of stamping every thing with timbres (official seals). On past trips, I’ve hauled back a juicer, crib linen set, and all the Christmas gifts from the relatives. Everyone who lives here does it. Once, a friend told me he hauled down a side of beef. Another packed a bathroom vanity because the “selection was so awful here.”

My relatives are quite used to my odd urges of stuff I have mailed to their houses. A box will arrive; they’ll email me about the contents; I’ll check the receipt and make sure it’s all there; they place it in “my” corner and wait for the next package. Electronics are something we all haul back. On average, cameras, computers - all those kinds of things - cost an average of ten to twenty percent more. But before I can pick all that stuff up, I have to get there first.

Addison still can not swallow very well, so most of his food is blended goo of some form or another. He is also allergic to most food groups, especially grains, sugar, dairy, and so on. Liquids and gels are not permitted on flights over 3.3 ounces. Do you see the problem in this? I called the airlines to see if I would need special permission to bring on Addison’s food. When I finally found a human agent, she said I could bring as many 3.4 clear, ounce bottles of liquid I wanted. I hung up the phone and felt like I had been speaking in tongues. When I’m standing there at 6 a.m. in front of that conveyer belt and x-ray machine, the airline security guy/gal is going to let me pass with 20 bottles of liquid gels? I’m not taking any chances.

This is where that term “special” comes in with Addison. I fought it when I first settled into Down Syndrome , but now I have to admit we do need a word to communicate to security guards, educators, bus drivers, and others who don’t hang with Downs - or other kids with “special” needs that yes, we have these different needs that are out of the “normal” spectrum. My daughter will gleefully eat the disgusting ham sandwich we get on the plane for lunch, and I will be able to live on chips and a brownie. Addison, on the other hand, would choke if I gave him any of that. And if he did manage to eat it, he’d puff up like a porcupine under attack in a matter of a few hours.

Not trusting the airlines answer over the phone, I went directly to the Continental offices. Managers huddled and talked to other managers sitting somewhere in cubicles out of sight. I even brought a sample of the containers filled with Addison’s goo. The conclusion: They thought I’d be fine bringing the food on. The bottles of coconut water he likes to drink were another matter. A few scratched their heads.

Maybe you want to get a doctor’s letter about your son’s condition? Just in case.

So we’ve got a doctor’s appointment to get a letter in order to bring food on the airplane. This is what special is in the more literal sense: More time; more money; more running around. I’ll get the doctor’s note and all will be well. I’m ready to fight even the toughest, uptight, unsure, underpaid security worker out there. For I’ll be packing the best thing of all: my sense of humor. Like Twain said: The human race has one really effective weapon, and that is laughter. Now that’s special!