Flight
I left Provo at 6:30 Friday morning headed for Tel Aviv. After 2 1/2 hours I landed in Minneapolis with a 45 minute layover. I dinked around and lost track of time. After a bit I decided I should wait at my gate. I headed over there, and saw the desk clerk I had checked in with standing near the door. I had almost missed my flight! "Sorry!" I exclaimed as I ran past him. "I wouldn't be sorry. We would have put you on the next flight." 2 1/2 more hours and I ended up in Newark where I had a 5 hour layover there. I was tired, and all I wanted to do was sleep. Instead I bought 2 magazines and set about devouring them. After that, it would be a short 10 1/2 hours before I would be landing in Tel Aviv, Israel.
I talked to Mumsy while I waited for my flight. "Are you excited!?" She demanded. "I'm so excited for you I hardly got any sleep last night!" (She speaks in exclamation marks, trust me.)
After we got all situated on the plane (a 777, in case you care) and took off it was meal time. As the flight attendants went around I silently kicked myself for not requesting a special meal. But, I reasoned, this was a flight to Israel. Surely there would be Kosher meals to be had. Sure enough, there were. I could have chicken or lasagnea. Um... no, actually I couldn't. I apologized to the flight attendant and asked if they had any vegetarian meals. She was fresh out, but we could take everything off the tray that I couldn't eat. Deal. After we did that I was left with — literally — a brownie. Even the salad had fish in it. She said when they were finished serving everyone else she would see if she could find some fruit in first class. I thanked her. Drinks came around and I asked for tomato juice. She left me with the whole can — perhaps that could hold me for a while. When she realized that she wouldn't be able to get to first class for a bit she came by and handed me some fruit bars and pretzels. On her way back through picking up drinks, etc. She offered me another drink. Bless her heart! I was starving! Finally I had enough to sleep on, and I was ready to hit the hay. After I feel asleep I felt a hand gently shaking me, it was the stewardess. She had raided first class and prepared a plate with grapes, crackers, and cheese. I inhaled everything but the cheese. So grateful. I thanked her profusely, to which she responded, "I'm from Denver, Colorado. I know how it goes, nothing with a face." I didn't want to explain, so I let that be.
Then I tried to sleep. The one baby on the plane happened to be in my section. It also happened to cry all night long. The poor mother. Every time the baby would wake me up I would look over and see her patting it comfortingly while whispering "shh" into its ear. That still didn't help me sleep. Finally the lightbulb over my head turned on — I plugged in my ear phones and turned up the hold music. I've never been so grateful for elevator music in my life.
Breakfast was much better — I had curry. Never mind. At least it wasn't eggs.
When I finally touched down in Tel Aviv and headed out, I was really surprised to discover that my venture through immigration was simply, "Why are you here?" and "Where are you staying?" Wow. I had a tougher time going to Canada!
My Aunt and Uncle picked me up at the air port and drove me back to their place — the Mormon University. For those of you in the "know" the real name is "Brigham Young University Jerusalem Centre for Near Eastern Studies". Now you know why everyone calls it the Mormon University!
I talked to Mumsy while I waited for my flight. "Are you excited!?" She demanded. "I'm so excited for you I hardly got any sleep last night!" (She speaks in exclamation marks, trust me.)
After we got all situated on the plane (a 777, in case you care) and took off it was meal time. As the flight attendants went around I silently kicked myself for not requesting a special meal. But, I reasoned, this was a flight to Israel. Surely there would be Kosher meals to be had. Sure enough, there were. I could have chicken or lasagnea. Um... no, actually I couldn't. I apologized to the flight attendant and asked if they had any vegetarian meals. She was fresh out, but we could take everything off the tray that I couldn't eat. Deal. After we did that I was left with — literally — a brownie. Even the salad had fish in it. She said when they were finished serving everyone else she would see if she could find some fruit in first class. I thanked her. Drinks came around and I asked for tomato juice. She left me with the whole can — perhaps that could hold me for a while. When she realized that she wouldn't be able to get to first class for a bit she came by and handed me some fruit bars and pretzels. On her way back through picking up drinks, etc. She offered me another drink. Bless her heart! I was starving! Finally I had enough to sleep on, and I was ready to hit the hay. After I feel asleep I felt a hand gently shaking me, it was the stewardess. She had raided first class and prepared a plate with grapes, crackers, and cheese. I inhaled everything but the cheese. So grateful. I thanked her profusely, to which she responded, "I'm from Denver, Colorado. I know how it goes, nothing with a face." I didn't want to explain, so I let that be.
Then I tried to sleep. The one baby on the plane happened to be in my section. It also happened to cry all night long. The poor mother. Every time the baby would wake me up I would look over and see her patting it comfortingly while whispering "shh" into its ear. That still didn't help me sleep. Finally the lightbulb over my head turned on — I plugged in my ear phones and turned up the hold music. I've never been so grateful for elevator music in my life.
Breakfast was much better — I had curry. Never mind. At least it wasn't eggs.
When I finally touched down in Tel Aviv and headed out, I was really surprised to discover that my venture through immigration was simply, "Why are you here?" and "Where are you staying?" Wow. I had a tougher time going to Canada!
My Aunt and Uncle picked me up at the air port and drove me back to their place — the Mormon University. For those of you in the "know" the real name is "Brigham Young University Jerusalem Centre for Near Eastern Studies". Now you know why everyone calls it the Mormon University!
posted by granola girl at 10:12 AM
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