Tribal Tribulations

So, I know that airport security are not the most humorous nor flexible group of people at large, but I think I caught them at on off moment seeing as it was 4:30 in the a.m. A frequent flier, I have memorized all airport staff scripts from check-in "and how many bags will you be checking today?" to the pre-security prep check "laptops out of their bags, shoes off, any liquids, gels or sprays," so you can imagine how caught off guard I was when one of the officials started to improvise. "hello miss," one of the the two officials greated me as I approached the security line. "Do you have mascara, lipstick or perfume on you?" Oh no he didn't.
"No," I raised my eyebrow, "do you?" I challenged. He looked at me oddly and said "what?"
"Do you?" I repeated. "Go on through Miss" his voice softened with further confusion and he waved me on. As I smilled passed him he whispered to his chuckling friend"what did she say?" I don't think I've ever had a laugh in the security cue before and I felt like singing "Take Me As I Am," boy I washed my face with soap this morning! But contrary to some popular belief, there is a time and place for Rent renditions and Heathrow airport isn't one of them.

Karma, I've noticed, comes around quickly. During my layover in Zurich (yes I flew backwards to go forwards. Maybe that was my first clue to the cyclical vortex I would spin through on my way to Auntie Germain's house in New York) I had to pee like you wouldn't believe and there wasn't a single bathroom between the gate I flew in on and the one I was going to which, by the way, was on the other side of another security check. Bouncing from one foot to the other the first security guard confiscated my unopened bottles of water and juice that I had bought at the last gate. Seeing my furry, she offered that I drink them before going through security and I hurt at the thought so I passed on the offer. That wasn't so much the karma kicker. The following security guard confiscated the duck confit that I was bringing for a gift! She shook it up and down, stared at it, shook it somemore, talked to her colleagues while I explained it was fat, not liquid or gels or sprays. I bitched at the woman until my flight was boarding, and she dumped the confit in the bin in front of me and walked away! I was shocked and livid and late for my flight so I stormed off to show her I was really pissed. In the process I lost one of my two indulgences - my cosmopolitan magazine (which I never read but bought since I lack room for books) and as I boarded the plane a kid kicked me. To make hell worse, I learned that the flight was 8 whole hours and if that weren't bad enough, there were thirty too many Yankee teens blabbing in the rows behind me. The upside was small: there were movies available and my second indulgence was intact (my Green and Blacks chocolate bar). Good thing the plane was air conditioned because if my chocolate melted and turned into liquid to soon be confiscated, shit would have gone down. If things weren't bad enough, one of the bratty teenagers just called her friend a hott mess. Oh the humanity. How long will I be punished?

I looked at one of the teens next to me and recognised the star logo on his shirt. Taglit Birth Right. They were Jewish, great. As if members of the tribe didn't have a bad rap already, these putzes really did us in. There was only one question I had to ask before I cancelled my trip. I turned to the kid next to me "Is this an 18-22 or 22-26 year old trip?" They didn't quiet for the entire journey and the birthright couple behind me (one happy family guaranteed on every trip or your money back!) were struggling to make the next birthright baby - or so it seemed from the repetitive jabs and kicks to the back of my seat. Seriously, Karma, spiritual cycles or irony what have you is at its peak today.

When I finally got off the plane I hightailed it to customs only to get the slow stamper who grilled me on why I didn't have an address for where I was going on my customs form. "Because I don't know it" I said carefully. He almost made me get out of line to call for the address but I told him that everyone was at work and I only had the home number and couldn't I just put my home address in San Francisco? He relented but not without calling me "dumb" first. I was twice stunned but knew better than to mouth off to another port authority for fear he send me somewhere else other than baggage claim or worse, take away my last saving grace - the chocolate. It was all I could do to not mutter anything except, "I have a college diploma" before I skedaddled. I thought my run-ins with airport a-holes and Yankee homelanders were over when I stepped into the toxic NYC air but little did I know.

An older (I'm thinking 60+) man caught sight of my padded bra which was funnily enough, central to the location of my Jewish star necklace and with bright eyes he spoke to me in Hebrew.
"What?" I asked.
"You don't speak Hebrew?"
"Not yet, I'm going to Israel on Sunday"
"Where are you from?"
"San Francisco" I responded to his curious face.
"No, where are you from?" (holla Danise)
"My grandfather's father is from Belarus. Where are you from?"
"Israel. How long are you going for?"
"A month."
"Must be nice to have a rich father. Enjoy your trip!"
"Ok, thank you goodbye" I smiled and shook my head as he walked away. That was silly, I thought, and then I noticed a priest staring at me from the curb. I laughed out loud for the second time in 10 minutes. As you can see, literally L.O.L.ing happens more often than not when I'm by myself. The first incident was when two little girls commented on their brother's wee-wee. The little boy later remarked in a no-nonsense manner, "everyone has a wee-wee." In metaphore, he makes sense. Smart kid.