I could try.
I could try and tell you all the highlights, but see...I would rather you go for yourself some day.
So instead, I present to you "Kelsey's Israel Blundering Confessional" - five posts over ten days for you to have a good laugh at the silly, embarrassing, or dumb things I did in Israel. Those are stories ANYONE can enjoy without understanding the location. There will also be a giveaway, so be sure to follow and comment on each blog. To start us off, I'm picking one that isn't entirely my fault...the one that started the trip.
Without further ado:
Kelsey's Israel Blundering Confessional: Part 1
Traveling has never been a strong suit of mine. I have the joys of getting airsick, or maybe it's land-sickness...I've never been able to tell. All I know is my equilibrium is shot and I feel I've been on a boat for some time after.
And yet, that is not what I'm here to tell you about.
In April I was blessed to go to Israel through my work. I could take the next lifetime to tell you about each detail, but I figure by then you'll have already gone yourself! What I will tell you are a few funny anecdotes that stick with me, and will continue to stick with me, when I'm old and grey.
|Leaving in the wee hours of a snowy morning.|
I am not the best traveler.
Yes, I get airsick, but it's more than that.
I am unlucky: the black cat, the broken mirror, and the number 13 have nothing on me. Traveling with me is a danger. A danger my coworker Owen learned on his own. Of course, this story is his fault, so maybe HE'S just as unlucky as I am.
Security in my hometown airport isn't slacking, but there are stricter airports in the country. We set off on the first leg of our adventure and landed in Denver with the prospect of 4-5 hours layover. Being that Denver is a major hub for us, my younger brother and I decided to walk lamely back and forth the length of Terminal Hub C.
We'd succeeded in a few rounds when we ran into Owen - bless his heart. If you remember Owen from a past blog, you will know he's like an older brother/cousin to me, but the pair of us always leads to a good story. Owen was on his way to a gallery with photos that used to be in Terminal Hub C but had been moved. He offered for us to join him.
My brother, from now on to be dubbed "Brosef", agreed at once and we trailed on down to the tram. The gallery was listed in a place called just plain "Terminal" that none of us had ever been to.
That should have been our first warning sign.
Along the way we joked about how we're safe as long as we don't go outside. We can just grab the tram back to Terminal Hub C when we're done at the gallery.
As we get of the tram, we take one of two escalators - both only going up.
Here Brosef started to get curious, but I am a blind follower of these men I trusted so well and I question nothing.
Once we are now above the stairs and have passed TWO ARMED GUARDS, Brosef is concerned, and Owen is curious. I stare out in search of the gallery while the two spin around and observe the place we had just left.
|Do. Not. Enter.|
"Huh," Owen said, scratching his chin in contemplation. "That's weird."
"What?" In hindsight I mentally slap myself for not catching on sooner, but I readily turned to Owen with bright eyes and positive thoughts.
"That sign above where we just left says 'Do Not Enter.' "
"Oh, well there has to be a way back down." I said, still naive and happy to be a part of the group.
"I don't know." Brosef eyed the space around us. "I'm thinking we'll have to go back through security."
"I think I've led us 'outside'," Owen chuckled.
I couldn't fathom that. I HATE going through airport security. So I stayed positive (and got the picture above) while the guys went to the information desk to find out where we'd gone wrong.
As I approached them, they were laughing. Owen, rather guiltily, and Brosef like he'd heard the world's funniest joke.
We have to go back through security.
Now, this isn't THAT big of a deal, so we traveled on through (after stopping at the gallery) and thanked our lucky stars we had all of our tickets and passports with us. Laughing along the way, we pulled off our shoes, belts, and watches, dumped our liquid bags, and removed our electronics in preparation for security.
Again and again Owen apologized to us. Again and again we told him it's no trouble.
"We wanted an adventure, we're getting one. This isn't so bad." I smiled, knowing Owen always means well (almost always).
But of course.
As I put everything back together, a man appeared and asked me about my liquid bag.
The bag I'd successfully gotten through our airport with just a few hours earlier.
The bag that no flag had been thrown.
No trauma or weapons or anything.
|Mask and Cleanser? OF COURSE I brought it with me.|
"Excuse me miss, is this your face wash?"
I'm already panicking as I looked up to see a squatty little TSA agent looking at me through basset hound eyes.
"It's too large for you to have in your carry on at 4floz. Can you put it in your checked bag?"
Immediately I launched into an explanation, "I'm from Chardeau. It got through there okay. I can't check it."
"I believe you, but you can't take it. Would you like to put it in your check bag?"
I tried again, obviously not clear the first time. "No, I can't. My checked bag didn't check in here."
Brosef, beside me, jumps in, "We accidentally got outside of security and have to go back through."
"I'm sorry. But you can't take this. Would you like to mail it to yourself?"
By this point annoyance and frustration have overruled all else. Airports do that to you, you know. I stared at him in disbelief that what was allowed in Chardeau isn't acceptable here - shouldn't all rules match? It was a brand new bottle! I have oily skin!!
"No." I sighed, giving up. "Just throw it away."
His eyes widened. "Are you sure? We have a post office and for just a few dollars you can..."
"It's only worth a few dollars. I don't care. Throw it away."
I put together the rest of my things (now missing a hair tie as well) and wandered over to Owen and Brosef. Owen, mortified by the fact that he lost me my face wash, promised he'd buy me a new one and apologized again.
"But they let you get through Chardeau!"
"I think he's just cheap." I said, rolling my eyes. Brosef and Owen raised their brows in question, and I smiled. "He just needed face wash, so he got it from me for free!"
We rode the tram back (seeing some scary neck piercing that I thought must hurt), and as payback for the misadventure, we indulged telling EVERYONE of how Owen led us astray. The cheeky devil. He didn't live it down for the rest of the trip.
"Are you sure we should follow you?" I might say.
"I'm not following him." Brosef would joke.
"Just don't lead me astray." I say once as he leads me back to the group after we'd been separated.
|I physically shuddered at the thought of this piercing|
As for the face wash, I found a new, much more expensive bottle (cheapest in the store) in Newark that did wonders for my skin while abroad.
And though I denied his request to pay for it, Owen gave me the money anyway, because that's the kind of person he is.
I vowed to pay him back. Especially after what happened next on the plane....
Want to hear more about my adventures in Israel? They'll be more to come! In the meantime, tell me your BEST airport security story. What have they taken from you? What have they let you keep? I have a zinger when we get on our way BACK from the trip.
So tell me tales, spin me stories, share with your friends...
Perhaps when we reach the end of this thing there will be something worthwhile involved...all comments of followers will enter themselves to win something from Israel, as well as a hearty gift card to one of your choosing: Amazon, Barns and Noble, iTunes.