A friendly competition

I made a friend before I landed in matar El Lod.

We made introductions in Newark--he heard me speaking Arabic on the phone, looked at me, and wasn't quite sure if I was really an Arab. After all, my hair is red and I have freckles on my face, and that is not the typical Palestinian/Arab look.

But I am, and he realized that pretty quickly. And just as quickly, we became line buddies. We made our introductions and learned as much as we could about each other while standing in the boarding line and dealing with the drunk security guard who seemingly wanted in on our conversation. We humored him, but focused on each other.

We apparently became such good friends to outside observers, that we were both stopped by Border Patrol before boarding the plane. "Are you traveling together?" she asked me about him. "No," I said, "We just met standing in line." As he and I were pulled aside, my original travel buddy continued uninterrupted to the plane. New York/Ramallah and I were pulled into a side room for the interrogation. My Palestine-trip airport experience had begun before I ever left the U.S. This was definitely something new.

"How much money are you taking with you? Do you have international currency? Can you show me your money please?" Those were some of the questions the polite security guard asked me. "You're allowed up to $10,000," she said. I laughed: "I don't think I even have $10,000 in all of my bank accounts combined." She laughed, and continued to inspect my purse.

I saw out of the corner of my eye that he was laughing to, and found out later that his answer was, "I have no cash..only my debit card."

We finally boarded the plane. And that was the end of the first session of our friendship. The second session would begin a movie and a half later.

After I finished "He's Just Not That Into You," and reached the mid-point of "Bride Wars," I decided it was time to stretch the legs, and went to do so by the make-shift stretching post by the lavatories. Soon after, NewYork/Ramallah decided to take a break and join me. Session No. 2 began: work, music, phone numbers, school, friends, family, food--all was discussed. Thirty minutes had passed; I returned to my seat and he to his. We wouldn't chat again until matar El Lod.

Friendship session No. 3 started with a challenge: Who would leave the airport first--the unshaven, Arab-looking guy with Osama in his name or the redhead realized-as-Arab-by-name girl with freckles? I guaranteed him it would not be me and my friend, but had second thoughts--I knew he'd be tough competition.

And it was a tough competition that lasted about 4 hours and ultimately involved four U.S.-born Palestinians and intervals with a random Turk named Suleiman who had come on business.

I won't go into all of the details of the interrogation sessions, but I wil note that each involved about 7 or 8 key questions: what is your job?, who are you staying with?, why are you here?, do you recognize this person [show picture on computer]?, who is your mom?, who is your dad?, what is your phone number? I'll also note that this series of questions, or a variation of it, was asked about 5 or 6 times by 5 or 6 different people. I'll also note that these sessions involved being moved from and returned to a special room with a TV but no remote, a vending machine, and several chairs. And participants got to see the insides of several offices, and practice reading 3arabee and 3ibree while waiting for the interrogator to finish typing and move on to the next question.

In between the escorted visits to and from the special room and the offices, New York/Ramallah, travel buddy, new Dearborn/Pali friend, and I developed a special bond, and exchanged information. I provided my Pali billaphone so that each could make his or her phone calls to family to say, "I'm here; I'm just still...here." (I'd continue to receive phone calls from new-friend family members for several hours after I had finally made it out.)

"Who would've thought we would make friends in an interrogation room?" Dearborn/Pali said. What other kind of friends would you make in an interrogation room, except fellow Palestinians? Well, maybe those who have an Arab or Muslim name, like the Turkish businessman who joined us for a while..but he left before any of us did, and he was a subordinate player to the main characters of our story.

After the fourth hour, it looked as if New York/Ramallah would win the competition--a solider came out and gave me my passport and said I was free to go. I told my travel buddy that I'd collect our bags and wait for her with our ride (she had been worried about whether the bags had made it, so I wanted to offer that bit of comfort at least).

I said my good-byes and insha'Allah-ed that I'd see the rest of my new Pali quartet on the outside. I exited the special room, walked passed the now-empty passport check points, and proceeded toward the baggage collection area.

I was met by another solider and a closed gate. "May I see your passport?" I handed it to him (they had handled it longer than I had for the past several hours--they pretty much owned it by now).

"Please have a seat."

I sat. A minute later, I was joined by New York/Ramallah. The competition was not quite over.

Apparently, our new visa stamps were "do NOT pass go" passes. We needed to be interrogated again. And we were.

We were told to collect our bags. After doing so, we were escorted to a new room. Our bags needed to be interrogated now too.

I won't go into all of the details of the tafteesh. I will note that they pulled out the Maxwell House coffee and Quaker Oats oatmeal and put them through the X-ray machine. I will also note that after his coffee bags had been X-rayed, New York/Ramallah gave one to me as a momento. It was a bag of Dunkin Donuts Original Blend from one of his dad's franchises. I told him the next I see him, maybe in Ramallah, I'd bring the bag so he could sign it. Neither of us had pens, nor did our Israeli inspectors.

We exited the special room and approached the exit. He would exit first though. I would wait for travel buddy who was waiting inside for Dearborn/Pali who was still waiting for her passport.

So I won the competition.

The prize turned out to be another HOUR of waiting until travel buddy and Dearborn/Pali finally got to visit the special bag tafteesh/interrogation room.

Our plane landed at 10 a.m. Pali time. We left the airport around 3 p.m. The 5+ hours that created this story were condensed to about 10 minutes and recounted 6 or 7 times for the family that was waiting for us in Palestine and the family that was waiting for confirmation of our arrival.

Ultimately, we all won. We got to leave with a 3 month pass. To me, that prize is worth EVERYTHING. It's so worth it, in fact, that I am already training for the next bout several months from now, insha'Allah. Bring it on.