Not home yet, but home

I'm in Atlanta. So, not home yet but home in the country sense. Home in the "hey" sense as opposed to "bonjour." Thanks instead of merci. I love France, but I love America more.
I lost my passport in the Bordeaux airport (and then found it, obviously), and I nearly killed a Chinese man whose sheer travel ineptitude caused my brand new MacBook to crash to the ground off the security conveyer belt in Paris. Still steaming about that one. Also trying to figure out why I had to go through security three times today, having never left the secured area in any airport.
So, yeah, I'm really ready to be home. This last flight will be considerably shorter than the Paris-Atlanta route, during which I watched three full-length movies, read a bit, napped a bit, and waited for 20 minutes to use the lavatory. My goal in the lav is to get in and out of those things as quickly as possible. What do people DO in there?!
I return triumphant, though. I had escargot. I ate snails, and I liked 'em. Hard not to like something drowned in garlic and butter, though.