Just thinking about writing this blog makes me kind of angry, so I'm listening to happy music and watching the Flames lose to try and make sure this episode doesn't come off as too vindictive or bitter. I know "happy music" is pretty stupid, since most of you know the shit I listen to is pretty lame anyway...but it's either this or kick a foreigner. And there aren't any foreigners here right now (who needs a gardener in the winter?) So...here we go.
Since the airport was about 5 minutes away and the flight didn't leave until close to noon, we decided the night before to sleep in and head up there not long before the flight. The airport was super small, so we figured we didn't have anything to worry about, right? I'll take foreshadowing for 400, Alex. Luckily we both woke up early anyway and headed up there 2 hours early. Because apparently the full two hours were going to be necessary. Bastards.
First off, we had to show our passports to the guard at the front gate - of an AIRPORT. That should have clued us into something, but nooo...we're just innocent Canadians trying to get to a city within the confines of Israel that was 350km away. This aiport is TINY...our hotel was bigger. Domestic flights are a breeze everywhere I've ever been. We got into the country super easy. This is fuckin nuthin, right?
You think I'd be leading up to impending doom so much if it was that easy? Bitch please.
After showing our passport again to someone guarding the front door, we walk inside. Two steps inside is the metal detector thinger. Hand over passports again, bags on belt, empty pockets, don't beep, voila. Hey, why aren't our bags coming out the other side of the machine? Odd. We don't have anything in there that's weird...
A voice emanates from a booth off to the left. "Excuse me, Mr...Burkey?"
"Uh...yes? That's me."
"Come over here please. And bring that bag (my daypack)."
"Er...okay."
3...2...1...the infamous Israeli verbal assault begins. Imagine this staring at you: A fairly pretty 19 year old girl wearing a big fuzzy brown sweater, with matching brown eyes and hair, and a nose that a toucan would be proud of. And she's got a look on her face that alternates between "I hate foreigners" and "My period just started and my tummy hurts".
I paint a pretty odd (yet vivid) picture with words, don't I? Anyway, it begins...
"Where are you flying? (the airport only offers flights to one destination - Eilat).
"Eilat?"
"How do you know about Eilat?"
"What? Uh...I've seen a map of Israel?"
BZZZZZT WRONG ANSWER! PROCEED TO ISRAELI DEFCON 2!
"Mr Burkey, I will be conducting a line of questioning in regards to why you are in Israel, what you are transporting, and your future travel plans. Is this acceptable?"
"Uh, yeah?"
"Fine. Do you know anyone in Israel?"
"No."
*her eyes narrow*
"Okay. How do you know your friend you're traveling with?"
"We've been friends since we 18 or so? 19?"
"How did you meet him?"
"Though his cousin Jim."
"How do you know his cousin Jim?
I met him through a mutual friend Mike."
"How do you know this Mike?"
...after 7-8 minutes of questions about how I know everyone I know, part 2 commenced...
"What is your purpose for coming to Israel?"
"Tourism."
"Why did you decide to come here?"
"There's a lot to see, I guess. And it was his idea... *look and point at Jess, who's being interviewed by another woman behind me*
"DO NOT LOOK OVER THERE. LOOK AT ME."
"Uh, okay?"
"How do you know about Tel Aviv and what you made come here?"
"Uh, it's a world-renowned city? And there's lots of cool stuff to see?"
"What stuff? How do you know of this stuff?"
"Uh...my Lonely Planet guide?"
"Show it to me."
"It's on my computer."
"Turn it on and show me."
*turn on computer, open guide while being eye-raped...and not in the fun way*
"Uh, here's the Carmel Market, Jaffa..."
"Where did you get this guide?"
"I bought it?"
"Where?"
"From their website?"
"Why do you keep answering your questions with statements that sound like questions?"
"Why are you asking so many questions?"
WRONG ANSWER AGAIN! ISRAELI DEFCON 3!
After 15 more minutes of inane questions...
"Why are you going to Jordan?"
"To see Wadi Rum and Petra."
"How are you getting there from the border?"
"The guy that runs the bedouin camp is picking us up."
"How do you know this man?"
"Uh, from the internet? We've exchanged emails."
"Let me see them."
*hand them over*
"HA. This Arab man...this Obeid...what if he doesn't pick you up?"
"I get my friend over there to pay for a taxi, I guess."
"What if there are no taxis there?"
"There are."
"How do you know?"
*Tim points at computer*
*Lady makes angry/crampy face*
...and so on. For 45 minutes. Seriously. When she finally ran out of questions, I was told to go back and sit down where Jess was now chillin. I got there, and we just looked at each other and laughed. "GOD DAMN!", we said in unison. Jess then introduced me to the Israeli guy across from us that was on our flight.
"Whoa, that was intense!" I said.
"HAHA you guys are really getting the gears! All foreigners get this. Anyone with Israeli passports can take whatever they want on flights, they barely pay attention to us. But everyone else? I feel sorry for you guys. It's not over yet."
"What?"
"Mr Burkey, Mr Jess (?)...come over here please."
"Sorry guys."
"...Grab your bags and follow us. You and your baggage will be searched in a separate location" she said.
ISRAELI DEFCON 4. The "oh shit!" meter is off the charts.
We both sat down in 2 bowl-shaped chairs outside a building across the alley from the terminal entrance.
"Mr Jess (I don't know why they kept calling him Mr Jess)...please come inside."
DUNNN DUNNN DUNNN.
10 minutes later he walks out, kinda white-faced, and fired an odd look at me. "Your turn." He smiled a bit. Uh, okay?
I entered a small room, with two dudes standing there and a small screening device beside them. "Mr, Burkey (why Burkey?), please take off your shoes and empty your pockets. If you have any money or credit cards in your wallet, you are entitled to hold onto them if you choose to". I was swept with a wand you see at regular airports when you beep after the metal detector. "Take off your belt". Into the machine. Swept again. "Drop your pants. "And your shorts. And take off your shirts." Swept again. Then they looked at each other. Ruh roh.
I still had my boxers on, which I was thankfully spared from dropping. But two thoughts rang through my head at that moment -
1. "I hate your country right now."
2. "Now I know why Jess had that stupid smile on his face."
You know that scene in every movie where someone's getting strip searched? The one where you hear the snap of a rubber glove? Well they were already wearing them, so I was spared that. I, however, was not spared the illegal touching referenced in the title. This dude took his gloved hands and...well, let's just say some people pay money for massages like that, apparently. And no you sick bastards, not one with a happy ending. Gross. I was spared the indignity of fingers inside me, and really didn't get violated all that bad in the end (wow, double entendre). But still...that's some traumatizing stuff. Buy a brother dinner first, come on.
"Okay sir, you're free to go...
"Aweso -"
"...and now we will begin searching your bags."
"Schiesse."
"What?"
"Nothing."
Jess filled me in on the increasing stupidity as soon as I stepped outside.
"So, they need to search our bags still (they've screened them 3 times already!)...they're not gonna make the flight, but we can if we want. We can wait for the next flight 3.5 hours from now and go with our bags, or go now and pick up our bags from the airport later."
"Wow. That's...weird."
"Yeah, we -"
*Dude comes outside, hands a book to the chick standing there*
"What's this?" she says to Jess.
"A book?"
"It's big."
"Uh, yeah. It's a textbook for a professional course I'm taking...so I can get professional certification."
"School book?"
"Yeah."
"I thought you were on vacation. Who brings a school book on vacation?'
"HIM!" I butted in and responded.
"Hmmmmm.....okay." she said and went inside.
I continued - "So what do you think we should d-
"What's THIS?" she said as she came back out the door.
"It's a cleaner for my camera." Jess said. "It blows air into the lenses."
"Hmmmmm...okay."
"Dude, we should go. NOW." I said. If they were gonna ask us about every item in our bag, I might freak the fuck out. I was relatively calm throughout the whole ordeal, because I obviously had nothing to hide, but them resorting to acting like children and asking about all our shit was, as Peter Griffin says, really grinding my gears.
"Okay, let's go get on the flight then." Jess said. "Are we staying close to the airport in Eilat?"
"I think so. It's pretty small, so I think everything's close."
"Cool. Let's go. We don't have much time."
We told them we were gonna go, and were thrown into a sedan and driven to the plane, which was surprisingly far away considering how tiny the airport was. All the passengers watched us get out of the car, probably knowing what we just had to deal with. After boarding the 40-odd year old plane and a quick 50 minute flight, we arrived in Eilat. Where the story concludes on a couple of humorous notes.
The first funny came at my expense, of course. After departing another tiny airport, we got in a cab while I handed Jess the hotel confirmation email.
"C Hotel please." I said.
"C Hotel?" the cabbie responded.
"Yup."
"You sure?"
"Uh, yeah?"
Okay...here we go."
Jess decides to pipe up at this point... "Uh, Tim, the email says tha -"
"There it is!" the cabbie points and says. "I have to go around though. Can't get in this way."
We had driven about 50 feet from the airport exit, and through a roundabout. Yes. 50 feet.
"Uh, Tim...the email says the hotel is a one minute walk from the airport."
"Oh. Shit. Is that really it?" I said.
"Yes!" Helpful Cabbie says...as we drove by it. And kept going for about a half kilometer. Then turned around and came back.
"50 shekels."
"What? 50? For that? No...aww fuck here, just take it."
Let's sum this up: I had just paid about 13 bucks to be transported approximately 80 feet in total distance from my starting point. I could have thrown a rock from the airport exit and hit my hotel. Fuck. Jess laughed at me. I laughed at myself. Just another day on the road. It IS pretty funny, I guess.
After we checked in and walked around for a few hours, we went back to the airport to get our shit. It obviously wasn't fucking far away. The ladies hand us our bags, which feel very light. As we look at each other, confused...another lady shows up with a baggage cart full of what looks like UPS packages. I don't know how many, maybe 25? 30? "Your electronics are here!" says baggage lady. What?
I have no idea why, but every individual electronic item was placed into a different package to be transported on the plane. No matter how big or small the item was, they all came in these identical big envelopes filled with bubble paper. Every cord was in it's own package. Bitch's huge camera came in a package the same size as my ipod shuffle did. At that point, it was like our version of Jewy Christmas. We just opened all the presents, and handed over whatever wasn't ours to the other person. And laughed hysterically, while the Jewy airline ladies looked at us with disdain.
So, that was our "50 minute" domestic flight from Tel Aviv to Eilat. I think you can understand why I will never, EVER fly domestic in Israel again. At that point, I actually never wanted to step foot in Israel at all again. I'd been molested, insulted, typecast, and racially profiled...all in the course of 5.5 hours. I guess it's something people get used to as part of life in Israel. But you know what? Fuck that. That's fucking bullshit. I'll take the relative lax security of Canada in exchange for the personal freedoms I enjoy, thankyouverymuch. Like keeping my clothes on before I board a plane.
And if you feel like I got off light because we weren't completely strip searched, and you expected more from this story, well...surprise! You got Jewed! At least I learned something there.
Next episode is all about cat fights, border crossings, and chillin in the desert with bedouins. And some travel surprises that turned out awesome. Stay tuned.
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