Randy steps into the lane. He wants to just bolt through and head straight for Amy, but this would be a bad idea. But it’s okay. Anticipation never killed anyone. Anticipation can actually be kind of enjoyable. What did Avi say? Sometimes wanting is better than having . Randy’s pretty sure that having Amy would not disappoint, but wanting ain’t such a bad thing either. He is holding his laptop bag out before him and drawing the big duffel behind, slowing gradually to a stop so that it won’t roll forward under its own momentum and break his knees. There is the requisite long stainless-steel table and a bored fireplug-shaped gentleman behind it saying, "Nationality? Port of embarkation?" for the hundred thousandth time in his life. Randy hands over his documents and answers the questions while bending down to heft the duffel bag up onto the metal tabletop. "Remove the locks please?" the customs inspector says. Randy bends down and squints at the tiny brass wheels, trying to line them up into the right combination. While he’s doing that, he hears the customs inspector working right next to his head, unzipping the tiny, empty pocket on the top of the duffel bag. There is a rustling noise. "What is this?" the inspector asks. "Sir? Sir?"