On a Magic Carpet Ride

The flight to Ben Gurion Airport was pleasant from start to finish. Guinness was the star of the show. While many travelers looked somewhat askance at our little Stud Muffin, their concern was somewhat justified. During the 45 minutes that the evil clerk Anna made me repack all my belongings, I strategically put Guinness' kennel just far enough away from me that he began to yap in protest at his perceived abandonment. Yap . . .Yap . . . Yap . . . Yap . . . Our fellow passengers, who were also checking in, fell into two categories: "Oh look, the little puppy! He's so CUTE! He's making aliyah with us!" was one camp.

The other camp? "If that little runt yaps like that for 12 hours, I'm going to take one of the plastic knives and stab him to death!" But Guinness was real trooper. He went to the bathroom in the bathroom (Dozens of paper towels on the floor), and he only began to yap when the aroma of chicken in duck sauce filled the air. He may be old, arthritic, half deaf, blind and with a heart murmur, but his sense of smell is still working just fine!

We arrived in Israel, Aima was retrieved before she got wind of her five pound passenger, and our driver was young, frum, energetic and soo kind. I passed out from exhaustion and woke up to find he had pulled over. I was then horrified to see him using latex gloves to pick up Aima's "welcoming" present. No, no he said to my apologies, it is natural, she's been in a plane for hours, ayn bayah. What a mensch!

He dropped me off at 11:45 am and by noon the dachshunds and I had passed out!

The Battle of Newark or how I fought ElAl to a draw

The morning came promptly 5:30 - or the night before mercifully came to an end. Mr. Gamliel came to help me load his van with everything but the two kitchen sinks I had promised to leave behind. Although . . .

Mr. Gamilel was a outgoing, friendly older man who loves animals of every shape and size. He adored Guinness, who had slept through the night undisturbed by my neighbors' noises. He graciously sniffed Mr. Gamliel's hand. "I love the sound of the animals," he told me. We drove to his house, where Mrs. Gamliel took over the helm and her husband bid us farewell. But no sooner had we begun our travel on the interstate when Guinness began to yap. Perhaps he sensed the energy in the van; Mrs. Gamliel is a lovely person, but she isn't the animal lover her husband is. And he made his discomfort known in short staccato yaps. yap. . . - . . . yap . . . - . . . yap. I had come equipped with 1/4 inch-sized bits of Pupperoni, an entire 16 ounce bottle of them. Guinness obediently accepted each piece proffered to him, only to yap again - and again. At this rate I was going to be out of Pupperoni before we got to Delaware.

Guinness finally fell asleep and we drove on. Mrs. Gamliel began moving her lips, saying the wayfarer's prayer. Good, I thought, my prayer book is somewhere in the back seat, I hope her prayer covers passengers. But as we continued on she continued to pray. O.K., she's probably reciting morning prayers, after all we took off at 6 a.m. But it was when she took her right hand and covered her eyes WHILE SHE WAS DRIVING DOWN INTERSTATE 95 that I thought, that's it, we're going to drive off the road and die! She finished the recitation of the Shema and I calmed down, but a few miles went by and suddenly she was reciting the Amidah or standing prayer. Fortunately this wasn't an Amtrak engine, just a Honda Odyssey, so she remained seated. We got to Newark, the van pulled over and I began to offload. Mrs. Gamliel got into an argument with an ElAl security agent who was telling her to move the van. They argued, I unloaded. I went to the sliding door, asked him to hold Guinness in the kennel and said in my very nicest voice, "Shalom! I am making Aliyah today!" Suddenly Mr. James Bond turned into Mr. Mushie. "Ah, Mazál Tov! Welcome home! Ah, the cute doggie! Oh, and you have another doggie also to make aliyah? O.K., no problem, let me help you." Evidently doggies and aliyah go together.

All is good until I get to the ticket reservation counter. The clerk, Anna, looks at the menagerie in front of her and starts counting: "That's nine extra pieces of luggage." WHAT??? She is counting the four separate pieces of my disability scooter. Fine, I say, and in less than one minute my scooter is now reassembled in one piece. Fine, says she, it now only counts as one. Well, I counter, the battery has to be checked separately because flight regulations require it to be in a special-holding cargo hold. Then, says Anna, it counts as two. Wait, I exclaim! This is the only airline that counts a disability scooter as checked baggage. That, Anna explains, is if you check it here. If you want it to go as a disability scooter, you have to ride it to the airplane gate and check it there. Hold on, interject the two baggage handlers, we want to check it NOW! She can go the the gate in our wheelchair. No, proclaims Anna the scooter must go to the gate! But we must check the battery, they cry. Then she will have to be pushed on the scooter to the gate! This is MADNESS, the chorus sings. Oscar, the junior baggage handler, slips the battery to the conveyor belt, then appeals, sotto voce. to the supervisor. I proclaim the sacred word of ElAl, she sings in a lovely soprano. Let the scooter be checked now and let the fair maiden Keren travel forth a lá wheelchair! HURRAH!! The whole chorus belts out!

Only then does the evil clerk Anna try to exact her revenge. Well, she says, one excess bag is overweight! 45 minutes later all my luggage is repacked, Aima is traveling with a five pound bag of Pesahdik dog food in her kennel and Anna waves all the luggage through. Only then does she reveal her dastardly intent: the second dachshund is another excess baggage, so I will charge you $655 to board. Fine, I smile with a wink and nod to the peanut gallery, just put it on my . . . AMERICAN EXPRESS!!

Off I go to the boarding gate, secure in the knowledge that I will dispute her $300 rip-off with the most consumer friendly credit card company in the world.

Next: On a Magic Carpet Ride!

An Evacuation Carroll

Twas the Night before leaving and all through the house,

Such music was booming, t'would frighten a mouse.

The neighbors were partying, they had not a care.

And R and B music pulsed through the air.

Sleep would not happen no matter I tried,

On my back, on my front, and of course on each side.

The one-o'clock hour came and it went,

And finally all of my patience was spent.

911 to the rescue, help was soon on the way.

When the policemen arrived I heard one of them say,

"Please open the door, ma'am." But she would not comply.

"Ma'am, open the door." But she gave no reply.

"Ma'am, please open the door," he would ask loud and clear,

But his firm command would fall on deaf ear.

At long last the music cut off in mid beat,

And the squad car drove off down our now-quiet street.

But were they all finished? Oh it was not to be,

A melee was started, a real jamboree.

He shouted, she countered, he shouted some more,

And then a gun sounded, like the slam of a door.

Now I joined NRA back in '71,

And it's been many years since I fired a gun.

But a 22 caliber makes a nice "clop"

And a few seconds later was another clear pop!

I could hear his voice talking, but from her not a peep.

Forget any rest-there's no way I could sleep.

911 on speed dial, I called in the fuzz.

For a murder or mayhem was the new next-door buzz.

Thank the Lord she was healthy, but she wanted to go,

So the cops she escorted, there was nary a blow.

They ran all the names of each person inside

Just in case anyone had a warrant to hide.

At long last she was free, and away did she drive,

While I in my house thanked the Lord she's alive.

It's 4 a.m now; I'm too hyped to recline,

But grateful to vacate in the nick of time.