After an excruciating 90-minute ordeal to clear Immigration in Orlando (see part 1 of “Welcome Home”), I decide I’m not going to take the Avis car I’ve reserved.

I’ve just traveled from Germany. I’m hungry, tired, crabby and just want to go to bed. I’m in no mood to drive anywhere. Taxi fare is outrageous, so I opt for a shuttle.

The sun is setting as I drag my suitcase to the pick-up point where the dispatcher promises me they’ll depart, “in 30 minutes or less.” Grrrr. I steel myself for a 29-minute wait.

My destination is the Blue Heron Resort – a condo complex that looked like a good value on the Expedia website. Hope so . . . my stepdaughter and grandkids are driving from Jacksonville in the morning. They have high expectations of me – the seasoned travel professional.

Within five minutes, a young Asian couple arrives with their son, and we climb aboard. As the driver loads luggage in the back, the young woman taps me on the shoulder and asks, in broken English, “Excuse me, how much tip for the driver?”

“Probably about three dollars,” I reply.

She gives her husband a despairing look as she pulls out two wrinkled dollar bills from her purse. He shrugs.

Where are you from?” I ask.

“We are from China.”

“Welcome to America.” I hold out a dollar bill.

She shakes her head, laughing nervously. “Oh, no … no.”

I insist, “When I visit your country one day, I hope that someone will extend such a kindness to me.”  I press the bill into her hand.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you!”

I relax into my seat, thinking about how easy it is, as an English-speaker, to navigate the world. We really do have it easy. How challenging it must be to come here, speaking very little English. I wonder what kind of an impression this young couple has of our country so far – especially if they had to endure a similar Immigration nightmare.

She taps me on the shoulder again. She’s holding out a pretty blue thing. It’s a silk tassel that she’s taken off her cell phone – her gift to me.

I am so touched . . . I thank her profusely for her sweet gesture of reciprocity as I attach it to my key ring. I notice a small Chinese character and ask, “What does this say?”

“It’s the Chinese symbol for happiness.”

Every day since then, at least twice a day, as I locate my car keys in the bottom of my purse, I see that bright blue tassel . . . and smile. Such sweet, simple kindness. Happiness . . . indeed.