Israel: Part 1

I wasn't sure I was going to make it to Israel with my sanity intact. The few days before I left were crazy and stressful; I was working late, trying to finish my Christmas shopping, scouring the stores for thermal underwear (which was no small feat--I finally outfitted myself in a pair from the little boy's department), unsuccessfully trying to get packed, and throwing together a Sunday School lesson, as I had to teach a few hours before my flight left. It was not a fun send off.

My hotel provided me with a courtesy airport drop-off, which was a pleasant surprise. The driver assumed that I was flying 1st class, and tried to take me to the 1st class terminal, but I told him I was headed for the economy terminal just in time for him to slam on the brakes and get me to right curb. He loaded my luggage on a cart, and I was off.

The Bahrain airport is an interesting experience, especially when you are flying to Israel. First, you wait in line for your bags to be scanned. Once they are scanned, they put a band around each bag so that you cannot open it again. Then you take all of your banded bags to the ticket counter. Despite the fact that I had my e-ticket confirmation, they could not find my reservation. The first problem was that they assumed I was going to London (by this point, the white stereotypes were starting to get old). I was, in fact, going to Jordan, I told them. They yelled back and forth down the aisle at each other, until finally a supervisor came over, and told me that I had to go to customer service. I will spare you the back and forths, but let's just say that it took me about 45 minutes to get checked in, despite the fact that there were only about 3 customers to be helped. I learned that this is what happens when Bahrain doesn't want you to go to Israel, because they hate Israel. When you try to be sneaky and fly through Jordan, you have to code share the first leg of your flight with Gulf Air, and that causes all sorts of problems (and you get a lot of dirty looks and decreased service as soon as they see that your final destination is Tel Aviv).

Then it was off to passport control. In Bahrain, every flight is an international flight. After a long line, and a quick stamp of the passport, I endured another x-ray screaning of my carry-on luggage, I then I was free in the terminal. I really appreciated the fact that I didn't have to take off my shoes, or my coat.

But my shoes were starting to give me blisters, which is not a good sign when you are only 2 hours into your trip, so I took them off at the terminal. It turns out that one is a size 9 and the other is a size 10. My feet are size 8.5. I'm not sure how I didn't catch the difference, but I guess that's what happens at the TJ Maxx clearance racks. Soon my friend Cristina showed up, and before we knew it, they were announcing the final call for our flight. I was still trying to get a hold of our travel agent to find out who was picking us up in Tel Aviv, but we rushed to the gate, only to be some of the very first people on the plane. It turns out that in Bahrain, "final call" really means first call.

The sad thing about our situation is the fact that if we could have flown directly to Tel Aviv, we could have been there in under 3 hours. But we got the pleasure of an 8 hour overnight layover in Amman, Jordan. I can safely say that the Reno airport is no longer the worst airport I have ever had the unfortunate experience of laying over in.

It was a very long night, and after the first hour, I pointed out to Cristina that had we flown to Jordan and then rented a car and driven to Tel Aviv, we could have been there and back in the time that we would be waiting. After about 3 hours, we managed to find the haven of Starbucks. Not only did they have comfortable chairs that could be pushed together to make small beds, but they had powerful overhead lighting which kept us warm, chamomile tea to keep us calm, and very friendly staff (which is a rarity around here).
Our Tel Aviv destination was not a popular one in Jordan, either. First of all, they changed the gate we would be leaving from, and didn't bother to make an announcement or change it on the screens (like they had for every other flight that had been changed). Second of all, security wouldn't let us through to our gate, when we finally figured out where we had to be. I thought I was going to witness a riot or a stampede when everyone flying to Tel Aviv was facing off with the security guard who wouldn't let us in, and wouldn't get his manager for us to speak to about why he wouldn't let us in. At about the point it was going to get physically violent, the security guard wised up and let us through. Then they changed our gate again, and we were also delayed for no good reason for about an hour. All I can say is no wonder there are tensions in the Middle East. Seriously.