Follow my blog with Bloglovin Rita Wanderlust: Unlucky Travels: Israel Part I

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Unlucky Travels: Israel Part I

Jerusalem
Wailing Wall
I’ve touched on this topic before, but as far back as I can recall, I have always had bad luck travelling. With how many ridiculous situations I’ve found myself in, it’s a surprise, even to me, that I still love travelling as much as I do. Until recently, though, I hadn’t paid much attention to it. It didn’t occur to me that getting absurdly sick on the Trans-Siberian railway only half way through was unlucky. Or getting stuck in an elevator with my 10 year old cousin in Moscow when I was 5 was out of the norm. Or even that I somehow managed to be the only one who got separated from my travel group when I was 17 and travelling to England for a tennis tournament. I don’t know how any of these things happen, some are pretty terrifying, some are just inconvenient, but they are fairly regular occurrences in my expeditions. I believe that the trip that finally opened my eyes to the bad luck was my trip to Israel.

It started off normal enough; I boarded a plane in Seattle to layover in Phoenix, and was meeting my travel group in New York. This is where it starts to get ridiculous. As we’re landing in Phoenix, the pilot announces over the intercom that we are landing momentarily and if we are continuing on to New York, we are welcome to stay on the plane or de-board and leave our belongings on the plane as they will not be switching planes. (Disclaimer time: I realize a portion of this was my fault but I was 23 [read: kind of stupid] and I had gotten up very early so my brain wasn’t working too well yet so don’t judge me too harshly.) Given that I am paranoid, I asked the flight attendant if she was certain that we would not be changing planes and that it was okay to leave my carry on. She confirmed that it was alright to do so, so I left my carry on – with my passport still in it. (That would be the part where you hit your forehead with your palm and ask yourself what kind of ding bat doesn’t know that her passport is supposed to be attached to her pretty much at all times. Hi. I’m that ding bat.) I get off the plane and ask the flight attendant at the podium to confirm that the plane would not be changing and get my third confirmation! 30 minutes later, I’m re-boarding the plane, making my way back to my seat, looking up at the overhead compartment, and you can guess what isn’t there: my carry on. That moment of panic is still vivid in my mind as I still feel the heart palpitations while writing this story.
Masada
On the holiest mountain, Masada.
I immediately asked the flight attendant what happened to my carry on and she looked a bit confused as she walked off to ask her coworker. When she returned she told me that they had changed planes. Now I’m going to save the rest of this story for the blog entry titled “The Time I Knocked Out a Flight Attendant.” Kidding. I did come pretty close though. I explained, not very calmly, the whole situation to her and she said that they would have to go to the old plane in order to get the bag which would end up holding up this flight, and they could not do that. I was given the option of taking a later flight or having my carry on sent to New York after me. In hindsight, I should have waited in Phoenix.
When I arrived in New York, I went to try and find my carry on and was told that they were waiting to get it on a plane with cargo room. Which apparently means in eight hours. My flight to Israel was in three. I am ashamed to admit that I am one of those people that cry when they get angry. So I made my puffy-eyed way up to international departures to find my group going to Israel to tell the coordinator what had happened. This was the time I should have been mingling with the group and getting to know my fellow travelers but instead, I was sulky in a corner trying to ensure that no one saw me crying (or throwing a hissy fit). Three hours later, the group left without me, and five hours after that, my carry on finally arrived in New York. Thankfully, the group leader managed to get me on a red eye to Israel that night with two other boys that had missed their flights for various reasons.
I’m going to leave this story as a cliff hanger because, believe it or not, it gets worse…

To Be Continued…

Information about the photos in this post: I may be in them but I did not take any of them, I have linked them all back to their rightful owners.