What my madcap journey across the Middle East and to NYC taught me about the war |
“Have you noticed how calm it’s been?” the driver remarked as I jumped into the taxi, racing to catch the day’s last train from Tel Aviv to the northern town of Beit She’an.
In truth, strangely, I hadn’t really noticed. Over the preceding few hours, beginning around 3 p.m. on Monday, I had cleaned up my apartment and finished packing, only for an Israeli airline to tell me that my flight, due to take off that night for Athens, had been canceled. My connection to New York would have to be canceled, too.
By 5 p.m., I had booked a new itinerary from Amman, Jordan, to JFK via Abu Dhabi. My biggest challenge now was how to make it from Tel Aviv to the Queen Alia International Airport by noon the next day.
Between it all, I hadn’t thought much about the fact that, for hours on end, there had been no Iranian missile fire on central Israel.
Like many people in Israel, my concerns over the previous few days revolved around one personal and logistical question: Will I be able to get on a flight?
That question is born of a triple whammy that’s hit Israel over the past week, as Iranian missiles cause damage and injuries across the country. As a result, the government has massively restricted how many people can fly out of Ben Gurion Airport. And Passover is coming up next week.
That has led hundreds of Israelis to conjure up convoluted ways of getting where they need, or want, to go — pricey car services to Amman, Aqaba or Taba. Buses arranged by the US embassy for those with American citizenship. Taking one’s chances with the dwindling number of Israeli-operated flights.
Or, like me, showing up at the Jordanian border crossing first thing in the morning and trying to make my own way.
Delayed on the border: ‘You’re Israeli now’
I slept at a friend’s house close to the crossing, which opened at 8:30 a.m., four and a half hours before my flight. It was a two-hour drive away. That didn’t leave much room for error.
At 7:30, the waiting area outside the border crossing was almost empty. By 8, it was packed with hopeful travelers. Shortly before the gate finally opened, we heard sirens in the distance, then the now-familiar boom of a missile being intercepted. No one moved. A few people looked up at the sky.
I learned soon afterward that Iranian missile fire had hit Tel Aviv, too, including an impact a short walk from our apartment. Friends texted to see if I was alright. I told them I was about to enter Jordan. They sent back sighs of relief.
I was relieved, too, if only to have a flight booked to New York, where our family is spending........