waiting in line

The most forgettable part of overseas travel are the lines.

On my last day of a recent trip I stood in line to enter the hotel restaurant. It was fun to laugh with friends who were in line with me. But it was only the first in a long-day of line-waiting.

Once inside the dining room, we stood in line again. But this time it was for the en trees laid out in delicious array. With the main course happily consumed, I stood in line for the amazing variety of the Middle Eastern sweets and bread fare. Sometimes the reward at the end of waiting-in-a-line is well worth it.

I hope heaven won’t have waiting-lines. If heaven does have a waiting line there will only be one. It is the wait on earth to get there.

At the Tel Aviv airport our bus waited in line behind other buses as we approached the first ring of security checkpoints. When it was our turn to approach the security gate, several armed guards brandishing automatic rifles stood a mere fifty yards away, giving us the look of serious scrutiny. We thought it prudent to be fully compliant with this slow moving line.

Once we arrived at our terminal, we waited in line again. This time it was to gather our luggage from the bus. Then, we waited in line to receive our VAT voucher, stood in line to have our luggage x-rayed and moved to another line to have our baggage hand searched. Once waiting in the security line was completed, I stood in another line to receive my boarding pass and check my luggage.

Then, more lines filled up my morning. One was airport security, another was passport stamping, yet another was terminal security. Then, I stood in line to buy a final beverage in the Land of Israel, nestled in the heart of Israel’s International Airport.

Again I found myself waiting in line to board the plane. Of course, several times during the flight I waited impatiently in line to use the lavatory. Then, I was waiting in line to get off of the plane. Once back at home in the USA, there were more lines.

One line that I don’t mind at all still remains special. It’s the US customs. The agent’s questions are polite and simple. But, my favorite part of waiting in that line is the greeting, “Welcome home!”

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