Journey to Palestine: The Flight

30 June 2011

It was the day of my flight and I can’t really explain my thoughts on that day.  Don’t you just hate it when that happens?  I found myself overwhelmed with a bittersweet cocktail of emotions but then again, I did just have a haircut after almost two years and oh yeah, urm, just the small matter of going to Palestine! What the frick! I wasn’t scared but a part of me no longer wanted to go, almost as if it was some sort of a defence mechanism, a part of me I had to tame as I was at the point of no return.

An evening flight meant that I didn’t have to rush to the airport. On arrival, there was a real sense of comfort and glee on seeing my travel companions that briefly overshadowed the questioning we'd soon have to face.  I think I was so engrossed in my preparations that I gave no thought whatsoever at the fact that I hadn’t seen these guys in a while. We were all excited and more importantly, it meant that I didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.  The pleasant hubbub was short-lived as our eyes met with the airline officials we were going to have to meet ­– ELAL – the Israeli airline with its own security and jurisdiction.  Uh oh.

We soon had to check our luggage in and I knew it was not going to be in the conventional way. Plus, I swear I’m not paranoid but they were all staring at me! I kept telling myself that I was not doing anything wrong but the more I said it, the less convincing I sounded, even to myself.  We silently stood in the queue, trying to look casual, and failing.  I stood there with another guy, now a friend. We were all put into pairs or smaller groups and this made me a little uneasy, as I’d been paired up with Pete, an Arabic Language student who has previously lived in Egypt and Syria.  Maybe this was done to make me seem like the innocuous one to completely bamboozle the authorities or maybe it was done to put the ‘risky’ ones together for whatever reason but still, I was anxious.

Pete and I reached the front of the queue to encounter two women who looked as though they were expecting us.  I can’t explain how I was acting but in my head, it was something akin to Lenny from Of Mice and Men – a vulnerable, slightly clueless bloke with a wry smile that says, “I need to pee, please let me through.” Anyway, I think it was very clever that they asked, “Hebrew or English?” – basically saying, “How long are we going to question you for?”  Thereafter, Pete and I were taken our separate ways to enter the pointless questions competition.

It was no surprise that it was the head of security who interviewed me.  He was over six foot, bald and had the build of a marine, reminiscent of a Russian hitman.  Someone needs to teach that guy how to smile coz seriously, he was a big ball of grump! He asked me a bunch of questions:

Where I was going to stay and why; if I knew the origin of my name; my religion; my political stance; my thoughts on the conflict; he knew things about my family and my personal favourite question:

Do you think it’s possible that someone has given you something disguised as a gift but might be a bomb?  No, dickface.

I kept a straight face, stuck to my guns (figuratively), and stuck to the truth on the most part. One of the ladies was kinda nice and she believed me, I could just tell. They took away our luggage and sent us to the boarding area. Yay! As we were walking out, the look on the director’s face silently screamed relief; I think she was more relieved than I was but I guess it was worse for her to be watching.  It brought back memories of the training day when she said:

“Next topic on the agenda: Security. Right then, what are we going to do about this one?” *diverting attention towards me* Aha, jokes.

What happened next was quite a surreal part of the night. It took place as I arrived at the boarding lounge. There was a help desk situated adjacent to the ELAL check-in area, operated by two Muslim guys with long beards. Seeing them made me smile and I had high hopes for them until a female Israeli worker walked by them. They greeted her but it didn't stop there. This was followed by a cheeky whistle and a fixated, definitely haram, stare at the junk in her trunk as she disappeared in the distance. I don't mean to sound judgemental but I was just like, Whoa! Where did that just come from? My entertainment for the night I suppose.

Just as I thought it was all over, they swabbed my hand luggage and I was taken into a little booth to be further searched. He frisked me and then questioned what ‘this’ was...When I indicated that it was my calf muscle, he replied, “You have to take your clothes off.” I thought he’d never ask! And then had the nerve to turn his nose up at me when I asked him to enclose the booth so that no one could see me. Me and my demands eh? He reluctantly obliged.  It was not really that much of a terrifying ordeal to be honest as it was nothing more than what I had prepared myself for.  'Ordeal' is a bit of a strong word actually but they did strip me, very slowly...well, with their eyes anyway; I took my own trousers off - you just have to laugh. In all honesty, I had prepared myself to be stripped naked, peppered with spices and have a hungry, rabid dog set upon me. After he was done, I asked if I could pray Maghrib but I was told that maybe I would feel uncomfortable with all the people watching me.  I reassured him with a smile saying, “I like it when people watch.” After getting the nod from a senior official, I prayed and soon after, was escorted onto the plane.  As I sat in my seat, I felt two things: relief at making it onto the plane and anxiousness about who was going to sit next to me. Knowing my luck, it was going to be a big, rotund, smelly gunge of a guy who was going to make this a very uncomfortable trip. I looked up and a guy called Darren graced me with his presence. And guess what, I love Darren!

To Palestine! ❤