An Adventure in Domestic Flying

We leave the hotel in Bar Harbor, Maine at 7:15 a.m. We soak in the beautiful fall colors during the peaceful drive to Bangor where we return the rental car without any difficulty. Our flight is not scheduled to leave until 1:10 p.m. so we nourish ourselves with food from a gas station with the plan to eat lunch when we arrive in Newark, NJ. We have plenty of time to kill and settle in for some people watching and internet surfing.

We overhear other people talking about having been put on this flight as United canceled the 6 a.m. flight that morning. No one knows why. I question the desk attendant around noon as our flight is not on the board. “It is delayed ½ hour,” she states but confirms that there is still a flight UA4299. It does appear on the board around 12:30 p.m. and indicates that it is “on time.” However, the boarding time passes and then another ½ hour and another ½ hour, and a third ½ hour. We are starting to get antsy along with all the other passengers. We only have a two-hour time frame in Newark and then we will miss our connecting flight to Chicago. No one has made any announcements or tried to update the waiting people. I finally wander over to the desk attendant again, “What is the holdup?”

“Traffic control issues in Newark,” she responds, “The wind is very gusty there and they have had to change runway directions.”

About this time, they announce that we will board in ten minutes. Finally, around 2:50 p.m., we begin boarding. I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe there is hope yet. Boarding goes smoothly and soon we are taxing to the runway for takeoff. The captains voice comes on the loud speaker, “Sorry folks, I have bad news. We have just been delayed for another twenty to thirty minutes.” I groan. Will we ever get off the ground? Finally, twenty minutes later we lift off into the air.flying1

I do some quick calculations in my head. We should arrive in Newark around 4 p.m. Our Chicago flight starts boarding at 4:10 p.m. How can I expedite this process? Hmm! Those magazines in the back of the seat pocket always contain drawings of various airports. I tear out the one for Newark. We will be landing at the B terminal and need to cross the airport to get to the C terminal for our next flight. “What is the best way to get to the C terminal?” I question the stewardess.

“Take the stairs at B28,” she instructs, “and get on the bus to terminal C.”

I am ready. Now I have a plan. Dave is seated further back in the plane, so I cannot discuss anything with him. My instructions on boarding to him were, “I will find out where our next boarding gate is until you can catch up with me.”

C95 is the gate listed for UA 1180 and it is currently boarding. Great! Down the stairs we go along with a bunch of others. The bus is waiting. Within a few minutes, we arrive at terminal C. We keep moving and arrive with a few minutes to spare. They haven’t gotten to Group 3 and 4 yet. Made it.

flying2I soon realize after boarding that we are also going to have a problem in Chicago. This one is my fault. I didn’t look close enough at the times when buying the tickets. It seemed like we had an hour between flights but now I realize that the distance between landing and boarding is only 35 minutes. The time is quoted for takeoff, but one needs to be on the plane long before actual takeoff. Oh dear! I hope our departing gate is close to our incoming one. If it is, we might have a chance. We do leave Newark on time and the pilot initially indicates that we will arrive in Chicago fifteen minutes early. Hurrah!

My cheers and feelings of hope are soon dampened when the pilot announces, “We have been doing some S flying to delay our arrival in Chicago.” This results in a loss of fifteen minutes. It is very windy and cloudy in Chicago we are told, and this is affecting flight times coming in. My stomach is tight, and I breathe shallowly as I alternate between hope and gloom. I do not have the boarding gate number for Chicago making it impossible to do any pre-emptive planning as I did with the last flight.

The pilot is still hoping to arrive by 6:30 p. m. The clouds hug the aircraft as we descend. We cannot see the ground for the thick white that surrounds us. All of a sudden, our downward projection is reversed and the engines roar as we begin an ascent. Now what happened? The captain’s voice soon comes on the loudspeaker, “We have aborted our landing. An animal was hit on the runway and they have to clear the runway before we can land. We will be circling until they are able to make sure the runway is safe.”flying3

Noooo! What else can go wrong? We might as well give up any idea of making the next flight. We might as well plan on driving home. We fly, what seems to us aimlessly, in the thick soup around us for what seems like an eternity but in reality, is probably about fifteen minutes before we get the OK to land. The clock reads 6:50 p.m. I search frantically for an electronic board to see what gate our Rochester flight will depart from. We are in C terminal and the board indicates our departure is out of F27. You have got to be kidding me!!! The only thing that gives me hope is that it doesn’t say that they are boarding yet. The problem is this is in another terminal as far to the end as is possible. We decide to give it a try anyway.

Down the escalator we go, taking steps like a regular stair along the moving steps. Then I am trotting. I glance back at Dave to make sure he is keeping up with me. Through the tunnel and up the next escalator we speed. Next is the moving walkway and we hurry along it. Dave is puffing. I am getting hot and feel like I am burning up. My mouth turns dry and feels like it is full of cotton balls. Onward we race, as fast as two over sixty-year-olds can go. I am running out of breath and slow down to a more sustainable pace but there is no time for a bathroom stop. Where is F27 anyway? Of course, it is the last gate at the end of the terminal. We roll up just as the last two people are boarding. I need to get rid of some clothes before I melt.

“I bet you $100 our suitcase won’t make it,” I comment to Dave. But we have MADE IT!

flying4The flight to Rochester is uneventful and we soon stand back from the luggage conveyor and watch others collect their baggage. We do not expect ours to be there. Soon the bags have all disappeared and the conveyor stops. We stand there along with another young man.

“That’s it,” I say to no one in particular.

“You’re joking, right?” the young man responds.

“Nope.”

“But my clothes for the wedding tomorrow are in there,” is his anguished assertation.

Well, at least all ours contained was dirty clothes and a few personal items. Soon we are filling out forms documenting our lost luggage.

“It should be here by tomorrow at noon,” the airline agent assures us. “Where do you want it delivered?”

“My house??”

At 11:00 a.m. the following day, the med-city taxi glides to a stop outside our house. “Here is your suitcase.” I’m impressed. Now, that is service.

 

The Final Day – Traveling Home

11-17-2016 Thursday

Today is our last day in Israel. It is chilly and only partly sunny. Our first stop today is at an archaeological dig site to shift through debris from the temple mount. The temple is occupied by the Muslims and apparently, they decided to expand their mosque without contacting the antiquities authority as required. Truckloads of artifacts and debris were hauled away in the night and dumped on the Mount of Olives.

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Lecture with Directions

Sifting through buckets of stones is not really my cup of tea but we are here so participate we do. We are assigned to a sieve kind of thing in groups of four. Son-in-law, Daughter, Hubby, and I are a group. We are to dump a bucket of the debris on our wire sieve, wash it with a garden hose and then sort through it. Things that we find that are old metal, pottery, mosaic, glass, bone, or unusual stones are to be picked out and put into a muffin tin. The whole mess looks like regular old stones to me and what little interest I had is soon gone. Hubby sticks with it.

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Sifting rocks

Picking up pretty stones is more his thing. Other groups have some success with finding valuable items. Our picking is mostly a failure.

We board the buses again about 10:30 to make our way to the Holocaust Museum in Jerusalem. It is a somber experience as we remember the many lives lost through the cruelty of the Germans. The sad reality is that world leaders are now trying to tell people that it never happened. I cannot understand this phenomenon – how educated people can deny this tragedy. It is also unfathomable to me how men can be so depraved and heartless on one hand and on the other, there were those who risked their own lives and futures to save as many Jews as possible. What I am most shocked by is that Christians in the early centuries after Christ returned to heaven (200-400AD), considered the Jews subhuman and persecuted them for not accepting Christ as the Messiah. We eat our noon meal at the Holocaust Museum then relax for some time standing in the sun until everyone is ready to go.

Our last stop of the day is in the garden which contains one of the places believed to possibly be the burial site of Jesus. Our tour guide is a Swedish gentleman who talks to us about the garden and about Jesus sacrifice for us on the cross. As he is explaining about the Hill of the Scull

where Jesus was crucified, a booming loud speaker blares out the Muslim call to prayer. It is so loud we cannot talk above it and need to wait for the call to be over. Often, we are told, the Muslims call their people to prayer more than the 5 times required by their law just to interfere with the Christian activities such as this. Trying to protest or stop this kind of behavior would result in WW III so the behavior is quietly tolerated.

We make our way to the garden tomb and each one of us gets a chance to take a look into the empty tomb. Then we gather together on some benches to sing hymns and worship. Pastor Mark brings us a short message and then communion is shared together. The communion cups are made of olive wood and we can keep them as a remembrance. The wind has started to pick up and it is quite chilly as we sit there. It is 4 pm by the time we wrap up the service and head back to the bus and the hotel.

Several people, including Daughter and son-in-law, want to get off at the Jaffa Gate to do some last minute shopping so the bus makes a drop off stop there. The rest of us go back to the hotel to rest until the 6:30 drop off time for taking our suitcases to the bus. Then it is time for the last supper. A gourmet meal it is.

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Bus 2 Group Photo

We board the buses at 8:30 pm for our trip to the airport where we say Good-bye to our bus driver, Shalom, and our guide, Eli. Our excursion through the airport turns out to be a stressful challenge. We are first told to get our boarding passes at the many kiosks designed for such purposes. Brother, his wife, Hubby, and I are successful at doing so. However, by that time, we realize that all the other 100 some have been told to just get into line and we are left at the end of the line. Son-in-law and Daughter have left us in the dust. They are far ahead at the front of the line. I keep thinking having our boarding passes and luggage already checked should allow us to bypass some of this line but it does not seem so. My stomach muscles are getting tighter and tighter as this line progresses with the speed of a turtle. I keep looking at my watch and thinking that we are going to end up missing the plane. As we are all standing in line, we find out that El Al Airlines have overbooked the flight by at least 15 – 20 people and they are asking members of our group to stay. Apparently, the pilots have also been on strike since Sunday which we knew nothing about. Just last evening, all flights were canceled.

The clock has ticked away an hour and a half before we finally reach the first security point where they compare our passport with our face and ask numerous questions. This one we zip through. Then we are told to get into the line for checking our bags in.

“Can we check our bags in somewhere faster?” I ask “since we already have luggage tags.”

Of course the answer is, “No, you need to get in that line.” As the man points to the line that snakes around 3 rows of slowly crawling snails. I am starting to feel somewhat panicked as we wait again for 30 minutes. Finally, we head for the next stop which is the physical security checkpoint where we need to go through the metal detector. We are allowed to keep our shoes on which makes this line move at incredible speed. As we leave the metal detector, I look around for the signs pointing to the D concourse. I see nothing like that. Confusedly, I lead my pack of four around in circles. Finally, I decide to ask. The TSA agent I ask is visibly irritated by this ignorant idiot, “You have to go through passport verification first,” she snaps. I have no idea what that means but head towards a line marked “foreign passports.” Another official looking lady waves toward some strange machines on the wall,” You can use those automatic ones over there.”

OK, I have no idea what to do with those things but I wander over and read the directions which say, “Put passport under scanner.” Amazingly, it likes my approach and prints me a little ticket. Feeling confident that we are now on our way, I tuck everything away and we are funneled through 1 small opening towards the boarding area.  No wonder I could not see it before. We have not gone more than 20 feet and we come to more machines that indicate we need to scan our pink card to get through. “Pink card? I don’t have a pink card.” Then I realize this must mean the little slip of paper we just got. It has a faint ting of pink across the top. Finally, we reach the boarding area. Are there any more hoops to jump through I wonder? We have about a ½ hour wait before boarding the plane. They make an announcement that any liquids we have bought cannot be brought on the plane and that they will be going through our carry-on bags looking for liquids. You can’t be serious! Again? This line moves quickly as the search is not terribly thorough. The last straw awaits me on the plane. We realize Hubby and I do not have exit seats as I paid for and we are stuffed into the middle of the plane with someone between us. I make myself at home in the middle seat regardless. It makes no sense for someone to want to sit between us. When that person finally arrives, she is fine with our arrangement as it will put her husband just across the aisle from her. In all the confusion of the Airline’s overbooking and moving people around, we are left to stuff ourselves in the regular seats for 12 hours and the money I paid extra for exit seats has been swallowed up in the mess.

Other than being unable to breathe or move properly for 12 hours, all goes well with our flight. We land in Newark, NJ 45 minutes late but safe and sound back in the US. Our connecting flight to Minneapolis is uneventful. We break through the heavy clouds into light rain. By the time we retrieve our bags, it has started to snow heavily. Welcome to winter in Minnesota.

This time the hare beat the tortoise as we get home before my brother and his wife who drove home from the Newark airport.1313

Traveling to Israel

325 I lay awake in bed waiting for the alarm to go off as I am slightly anxious about our upcoming trip. The phone rings at 6 am. I stumble out of bed to answer it as I can’t figure out how to answer the bedroom phone anymore. It is my brother. “We are leaving,” he tells me. I am not even out of bed yet. It’s like the tortoise and the hare. He has 6-7 hours to drive to Newark, NJ and we have 3 hours to fly.001

Son-in-law and Daughter arrive at 7:45am and we are soon on the road to my husband’s sister’s house in Richfield. She will drive us to the airport and then store our car until our return. I googled her address for directions last evening. Somehow, though, we miss the exit indicated and find ourselves having gone too far. We swing around and go back the way we came. I have a set of directions from 2007 that mentions one of the exits we have passed. We exit following the older directions and soon find our way. We are all somewhat tense and on edge. It doesn’t seem like we can travel without this anxiety.

We make our way through security without incident. The TSA lady tells us we can leave our shoes on. I feel like an idiot after I realize all of us have pre-checked TSA status. The flight leaves a little after 1 pm after a slight delay because the flight attendants arrived late on another flight. Our 3-hour flight arrives in Newark, NJ at around 4:45 pm. It is getting dark. We have no problem retrieving our luggage. In fact, ours is first and within 15 minutes, we are ready to look for the hotel van. I realize my TSA approved lock on the big suitcase along with the zipper tags are gone again. This is the same thing that happened in January when we traveled to Florida.

We ask a lady at the information desk where to catch the Best Western bus. She says, “Go out that door and wait for the bus in lane 2.” As we stand along the curb, we have a group discussion about what “lane 2” means. We are standing at “pickup 2”. After little agreement, Hubby instructs me to return to the information desk to re-inquire. The man this time tells me that I need to go up 2 flights on the escalator and catch the Air train which will take us to “pickup 4.” This is a totally different affair than previous. Back inside we go and back up the escalator to the train. His instructions are correct and we soon find ourselves where the hotel buses actually pick up people. 5:30 we pull up outside the hotel and there is my brother waiting for us in the lobby. The tortoise has beaten the hare. After acquiring our rooms, we all gather in the restaurant for a well-deserved meal. We soon discover that all the other patrons there are also going on this trip. Then it is time to relax.

11-9-2016  Wednesday Continuing Journey

After a somewhat restless night during which I keep falling toward the middle of the bed, the alarm bids us to awaken at 6:15. Our agreed upon breakfast time is 7 am. Brother and his wife, Son-in-law and Daughter are already there when Hubby and I arrive. For me, it is a breakfast of yogurt, coffee cake, a bun, and milk. Son-in-law and Brother and Hubby pile on the potatoes, eggs, sausage etc. Brother and Son-in-law have seconds. A short relaxation period follows during which we watch all the hype and reporting about the election in which Donald Trump is the winner. “Such an unexpected upset,” the commentators say. By 8:30am, it is time to meet the hotel van for a ride back to the airport. The van driver drops us directly off at the El Al airlines. This is an unexpected nice touch. Potential passengers are starting to mingle around but nothing seems open and/or ready for business. I spy some self-service machines and we are all able to get boarding passes printed with no problem. That is the last of our check-in that goes smoothly. One of the security people tells waiting travelers to line up in the strapped off lanes and to make two lines. The line, we choose, does not seem to move. The security agents set up temporary podiums and start to call couples from the other line over and over. The guy behind us sneaks over to the other line and soon so do Son-in-law and Daughter. Hubby thinks it is rude to jump lines and insists that we stay where we are. I am just getting frustrated by this lack of progress. Soon it is Son-in-law and Daughter’s turn and I can see within the first five minutes that they are having trouble. They nod towards us and the agent goes to talk to another agent over and over. Soon we are asked to join them at their podium. They have told the agent that they are married and that they are living with their parents because the addresses on the passports are still their pre-married addresses. Because they got married in September and I knew this trip was coming up in November, I had advised Daughter not to try to change her name on her passport lest they not get them back in time. I never realized that the addresses might be a problem too. Of course, I do not know that they have said they are living with parents so now I tell the agent that they live together in their house at a different address. What a tangled web we have weaved. Oh dear! The next question is, “Do you have a marriage certificate with you?” All of us shake our head, “no.”

“Do you have some way of proving you are married?” is the next question. Ah, social media does sometimes come in handy. Son-in-law is able to pull up on Facebook a picture of them just after they have been proclaimed husband and wife standing in the front of the church. This the agent accepts. My stomach by now has turned into a knot and I am starting to feel hot and suffocated. I have visions of Son-in-law and Daughter being sent back home. Finally, I think the Israeli security people are satisfied and Hubby and I move on to checking our luggage. But Daughter and Son-in-law still are not being allowed to go. They have confiscated their carry-on backpacks so they can search them. They are instructed to wait. We decide to wait with them. “Why did I think this trip was a good idea?” I ask Daughter. The cell phone dings and the message from Sister-in-law says, “We are through security. What is happening?” As time ticks on for over an hour, I am becoming increasingly restless by the minute. Son-in-law starts to pace. Finally, the bags are returned and we are on our way to the real security check. That goes well except for forgetting to take the laptop out of my bag.

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On the plane to Tel Aviv

Around 12:30pm, we begin boarding. Poor Daughter has ended up in a seat between 2 random guys far from the rest of us due to Hubby and I switching to the exit row seats. I did not realize that she was the one between us and that Son-in-law had gotten seated with Brother and his wife.

Take off is smooth and supper is served at 2:30 pm Eastern Time. I have figured out that we will get to Tel Aviv at 11pm eastern time but it will actually be 6 am Tel Aviv time. We will have missed the night.

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Tel Aviv airport