You can call me the bomb-squad kid

I write this post from Stockholm, Sweden, where I am currently visiting my wonderful older sister, Zhena.

In order to get to Sweden, I had to make it through Israeli security, and let me tell you, it was quite the experience.

So, I get to the airport at 1, in plenty of time for my 4 o'clock flight, walk through the first stage of security checks which just means placing my luggage for x-ray screening. Everything's good. Then, I make it to round 2. Round 2 consists of typically Israeli women (occasionally men as well) opening up your suitcases and rendering useless whatever amount of thoughtful time you put into packing and arranging things just right. As I've been through this airport a few times before, I no longer fret too much about how things are placed as I know they will all be re-shuffled anyway.

Anywho, today it seemed the women were being extra slow as they were averaging calling one new person to the front from the ever-growing line only every 10 or 15 minutes. There were only 2 people ahead of me but I stood in that line for a full 30minutes before they called me forward. And then the fun began.

So, I go up, and the lady inspects my hand bag first: camera, iPod, novel, bahai book, prayer book, insurance and travel documents, lipgloss, wallet, chocolate bar, neck-and-massage pillow. All pretty standard and innocuous items. She grabs the electronic items and gives them special screening and attention, makes me pack the chocolate in my stow away bag, and places my pillow, wallet, and keychain on the x-ray machine. Another woman is helping her look through the items to make sure she doesn't miss anything (traces of powder? hidden weapons? secret explosives?). Then all of a sudden the girl who was inspecting the person next to me's bags says, we have to go! And just like that this ENTIRE section of the airport is being evacuated. People remain surprisingly calm, considering the fact that in Israel if you're getting evacuated the likely scenario is a suicide bomber or bomber of some sort.

So as we're all walking towards the exit the girl who was checking my bags is staying remarkably close to me and keeps putting her hand on my shoulder-gently-and keeping me by her side. And I'm wondering why the special treatment since no one else seems to have an escort. Then she asks me to stay for a moment, and I'm still completely oblivious as to what is going on, but at this point the only people left in the airport are the security employees and...me. Then this suave looking gentleman in a suit walks up to me and asks for my passport.

"What brings you to Israel?"
"I work at the Baha'i Gardens in Israel"
"Ah, so now you're leaving?"
(at this point it hits me they've evacuated everyone because of ME. What..the..heck...)
"I'm just going on holiday for two weeks and then I'm coming back."
"I see," he replies, never losing the smile from his face, or his calm demeanor. I, too, am surprisingly calm.
We walk back to my suitcases where there are a team of people studying the x-ray machine. And then I catch it. My pillow. Because it has a built in massaging device, there are wires. Just as I realize why they've detained me, I notice a man running towards me. Or more like, power-walking in my direction. A man who was unmistakably part of a bomb squad. He stands near me, but far enough away that I am not "threatened".
Oh my God, they think I've packed a bomb.
Then one gentleman from the team of experts studying my pillow is visibly arguing in Hebrew with the girl who apparently told everyone I'd packed a bomb. She is on the verge of tears and arguing back. I dont speak Hebrew, but it was very clear to me that he was telling her she made a foolish mistake and should have known better--definitely something along those lines--you can hear the "what were you thinking"ness in his tone, and the defensiveness in hers.

At this point, that same man signals to someone behind me and I turn around and realize there had been another bomb-squader standing right behind me, positioned to grab me should need be, and I hadn't even noticed him...He makes an "are you sure" face, gets the official okay, drops his arms from the GRAB HER position they'd be in (seriously, he was poised to attack) and walks away.

Then they bring all the other passengers back in and everyone goes on as if nothing had happened...except no one apologizes to me or even acknowledges what they'd non-verbally accused me of...and even AFTER realizing it was just a massage pillow, I get taken to a special back room, get thoroughly felt up (by a woman, at least) and then am escorted directly to passport control.

I have to say though...mad props to the Israelis. None of them lost their cool, it was all done so professionally and in a way, subtly, and they managed to keep panic levels down even before they realized there was nothing actually worth panicking over.

Also, it dawned on me that had this happened in JFK, they probably would have gunned me down before realizing that it wasn't actually a bomb. That thought gave me chills.

Comments

Olya said…
OMG!!! unbelievable, sorry for all this, hope you are better now with your sister :))) happy holidays :)
Ashley said…
o.m.g. hilarious/awful/scary/GREAT STORY. slash i'm really sorry that happened to you! but I have a Tel Aviv airport story of my own...not QUITE as dramatic though.

going through security in the airport with my youth group (this was spring break of 9th grade, so like 1999?).
security guard (flipping through my passport): So, you have been to Egypt several times.
Ashley: yes. my dad is Egyptian (alarm #1).
security guard: hmm. and abu dhabi and dubai? why were you there (alarm #2)?
Ashley: umm, because we stopped there on our way to Egypt.
security guard: Those countries are not on the way to Egypt.
Ashley: Well, they are if you are coming from Indonesia (alarm #3).
Security guard: INDONESIA? WHAT? (calls over supervisor of security, they take all of my bags to be specially searched).
...the interrogation went on like that for a while, as every explanation I gave made me look more and more suspicious. My youth pastor had to come over and tell me to stop talking.

so that's my "we think you're a terrorist" story... not quite as crazy as yours, but there you go :)