Longing for Libya (posting from the road)

Greetings all! I write to you this AM from my suite at a lovely hotel in the Red Sea Resort town of Eilat. After the standard hellish day travel it was a lovely suprise to find that our request for a simple room had surprisingly blossemed into the Honeymoon Suite that we slept in last night. It's your typical 4 room, 2 shower, 3 balcony kind of place (the balcony that holds the jacuzzi tub is actually larger than my living room at home)! But I digreess, for the suite was the nice part of the day. The day started, 22 hours earlier with the news that we would have to fly to Libya. I consider myself and adventerous spirit by connecting through a Libya really seemed like a bad idea. We lucked out and with a strong tailwind plus some airport sprinting on our part, we successfuly made our Tel Aviv connections. Five minutes after getting on the plane I was wishing for the flight to Libya.

The elderly A320 aircraft we were one was designed to be a moneymaker - tight rows with horrible seat pitch meant a very crowded and stuffy plane. A plane that after we were entirely loaded, and the doors closed, was told to remain on the ground due to air traffic problems. I started to hear the prayers of a jewish man ahead of me briefly before the baby started. Started and did not stop for close to an hour. Just screamed and screamed and screamed. I honestly do not know how parents do it, my ears we leaking blood in just 15 minutes.

At some point in all of this we must have taken off. I had tried to cocccoon myself into my own little world with my Air France issued ear plugs and sleep mask, just willing the torture that is air travel to be over. The clink of the service cart woke me up. Like a camel to an oasis...that service cart represented survival in the form of water. Normally I like to stock up on a bottle before the flight but the terminal that we were in in Charles DeGaulle had an astounding number of high end watch shops and chocolatiers but nothing so pedestrian as a shop selling water - ahhh the French.

So the service cart rumbled by, stopping briefly to hand out a shot of water and a shrinkwrapped meal of fish and cucumbers covered in a cream sauce. I really wish I had taken a photo of it...but it's vile appearance forced me to immediately return it before I started to gag at the sight of it alone (a response I might add that we shared by everyone in my row).

This was my first flight to the country of Israel. So far I was quite impressed with the security measures...from the security around our plane on the ground in Paris to the regualtion that prohibits anyone from getting out of their seat once we entered Israeli airspace. This hypersecutity continued on the ground as well.

Customs questioned us mainly about any intentions that we may have to enter Palisinian areas of the country and whether we had any relatives in the area. The customs man was actually quite helpful and gave us directions to our connecting terminal. The real scrutiny came there. I am not sure what triggered the senses of the Ben Gruin airport security to view Carrie and I was a potential threat (although if I had to guess it would be the official Turkish Airlines, Istanbul flight bag of Carries that she bought in a shop in France...it was getting several inquisitive glances) but we had the opportunity to experience the most thorough historical screening ever, for a domestic flight.

Initially we were questioned by 2 individuals after giving them our itinerary "why are going to Petra", "are you going to make a bomb on the plane", "did you learn Hebrew as a child"...the quesitons went on and on while our passports went away for a bit. Then our luggage was x-rayed before being completely disassembled. Think of the time you spend tightly packing your suitcase with your personal items...now picture it spead out on a table with 5 secrurity personal swiping it with sniffer wands while the curious lookers who arent' being searched snicker at your possessions. A new level of humiliation happens when the man says "I can't seem to get your wetsuit and Cheese-it crackers to fit back in".

So after our bags have been reassembled, re-xrayed and we have been sniffer wanded for bombs, we are taking individually to a seperate room. This room, which I think would be a janitors storage closet at other airports, houses a metal detector machine, a plastic chair and a door to another area. After I pass through the metal detector I am left sitting on the chair while my jacket leaves to go behind the door. A few minutes later my jacket and I are reuntied with Carrie and our suitcases and we are personally escorted to the gate. A little surreal but at least there was no wating in line.

The final flight is the shortest and the most comfortable. The wierd starts as we land. I am predicting based on the flashy lights that we are now in the Vegas of Israel. Palm trees, swimming pools and massive hotels dot the landscape as we touch down. The small terminal is home to a room with nothing more than a conveyor belt and a wax figurine of Brad Pitt.

But we made it...and after a mediocre lobby dinner with a Zither music band in the background and screaming children underfoot, we crawled into our honeymoon bed and collapsed - at least it wasn't heart shaped.

Toe-dah for reading!