Flight, Arrival, & Initial Thoughts

 The flight to Israel began in New York at 11:55pm. The plan was to be sufficiently exhausted and able to effortlessly float away to dreamland as soon as we reached cruising altitude. However, that so far from what happened. Mainly because I couldn’t get comfortable, but also because of this:


At the exact moment our pilot pressed his little foot (or thumb, or pulled up on the joystick, idk) on the gas of that plane, a group of people in front of me screamed “HELP!” out of the darkness. “WE NEED HELP!!” The force of the plane rushing down the runway has me pinned to the back of my seat, but I look up to find all the crew members sprinting forward into the dark aisles. “Help! We need help!” According to my years of expertise in irrational fears on planes, this cry for help means someone has opened the door to the plane and we’re all going to get sucked out of the vehicle if the pilot continues to leave the ground. So I’m panicked. Literally my first thought was someone opened the door. But then, “WE NEED A DOCTOR!!” So all the stewards are up on their feet rushing about as the plane leaves the ground and takes flight. A call over the intercom, “We need any doctors on board to come to the main cabin, we need a doctor.” Sure enough 5 doctors got up and came to my section of the plane. I couldn’t see what was going on, and I’ll go ahead and tell you that I never found out. There were blood pressure cuffs, oxygen tanks, and medication lists passed around. I just knew we’d have to turn around and land because someone was having a heart attack. But as the minutes dragged on, the group of stewards and doctors slowly dwindled down, until finally no one was attending to the mystery person in distress. And then we were at cruising altitude. 

I couldn’t sleep at all, but somehow 6 hours passed. I watched King Richard. We landed 9.75 hours after the those initial cries for help.

Stepping out into the airport of a new country is a rush that I legitimately live for. We had to go through immigration, find our bags, and get our Covid tests. Then, taxi. Our taxi man was nice. I knew Tel Aviv was a modern city, I knew it would have some European influence. I just didn’t know it would be so American-looking. It looked like a better version of an American city. Gay flags in windows, clean streets, stylish clothing, and a whole lot of English. It looked safe. Women jogging alone in shorts with headphones in. That’s a good indication of safety. 

We pull up to our posh hotel, check in, and within 15 minutes Dad and I are out on the promenade. I also knew Tel Aviv was coastal, but I hadn’t really considered it to be a beach town. I mean, it’s not a beach town. It’s a huge city with a beach but the beach is very developed and popular. It was just like the promenade in Nice! Except honestly better. Dad and I walked up and down, maybe two miles as it got dark. So many people out with us on bikes, scooters, skateboards, with their dogs & families. Park after playground after rec area, all lined up. Lights and music, the place was buzzing!!! And this was during Shabbat, mind you. Dad and I made our way away from the beachfront into the streets of Tel Aviv. We headed to a vegan restaurant our hotel receptionist helped us find. Plant-based foods are certainly popping off in the States, but it’s just not quite as casual and normal-feeling as this spot was. Dad got some vegan shawarma, and I got the house burger. We both had lemonade. I was so happy to be exploring. 

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