Embracing the Travel Storm: How Chaos Brought Me Home

My family and good friends know I hate chaos or even a hint of disorder. Usually, whenever you have a large gathering of Israelis, chaos will likely ensue, whether it be at concerts, movies, train stations, protests, just about any line, and, my personal favorite, parking lots. And air travel is no exception. Ever since we’ve been sentenced to post-9/11 security scrutiny and with the insane number of flights and passengers, chaos and air travel seem to go hand in hand. All of us have endured the rough and tumble experience of air travel, particularly if you are a passenger on one of the few less popular, (not always) low budget airlines. Having recently returned home on one such Arkia flight, I had some time to ponder the travel experience that is chaos, which surely is a metaphor for life in Israel, and to reflect on why air travel is the source of so much stress and anxiety, particularly for OCD, hyper punctual types like me.

Since early childhood, I’ve suffered from intense travel anxiety. I attribute these feelings to my worry about being late (from years of actually being late), concern that something will go wrong (it usually does), an actual fear of flying, and, more than anything, motion sickness. Most people check the entertainment selection when they take a seat; I check that I have a sick bag. To this day, with a solid track record of vile eruptions on planes, boats, buses and cars, I take pills if I anticipate a rough ride. (I’m not a fortune teller so I’ve not always gotten that right.) I have discovered forms of meditation or relaxation that help me tackle the onset of nausea before I turn green like Kermit and my belly produces seismic activity. Fortunately, my fears, stresses and illness woes have not kept me from traveling far and wide. But the challenges of modern air travel have not made it any easier: The long lines, the thinning patience of passengers, the abysmal on-time track record of most airlines, the cancellations and re-scheduled departures (made worse during war time), and the security requirements. It’s a miracle that the COVID years did not ground me, with all the extra tests, paperwork, permits and masks (and the extra irritable passengers).

Here we are again, queuing up at the airport to check-in. The airline is falling way behind getting the check-in started, and at two hours before departure (with at least another hour at passport control and security), most of the plane is still waiting to check-in. The math for an on-time departure already doesn’t add-up. The two Israeli check-in lines, sitting side by side, are the longest lines in the terminal, like the bad kids at the playground. I wait and observe. People don’t appear irate. In fact, there is not more than an atmosphere of mere curiosity. People periodically check the counter to see what, if anything, is going on and glance at other passengers for validation that there is no cause for concern (searching for that “we are not alone” look of comfort). Some parents send their teenagers to fetch some food and drink, while other less fortunate parents with little toddlers resort to turning the terminal into one big playground and run around in circles chasing their kids, hoping to exhaust them. A few inquire with neighboring passengers in line (all equally baffled except knowing they are in the right place), which is occasionally followed by pleasant conversation. “Where have you been?” “Where did you stay?” “Where are you from?” Before you know it, you’ve found out that your fellow passenger works in the same office as the son of your husband’s second cousin once-removed, and the conversation takes off as if you’ve known each other for years (in a way, you have).  We all stand in line with a quiet acceptance of the situation as it is, that we are all in the same boat, there is nothing anyone can do about it and it’s what we’ve come to expect.

And there lies the cure for chaos and life in Israel. Accept it as you would a wild rollercoaster ride. The scrambling noisy children, the prolonged waiting, the growing hunger for the food and coffee that we had no time to buy and the total uncertainty of the ordeal like the ups and downs of a spinning coaster and the jolts and spasms of daily life at home. And the acceptance that, despite the hassle and uncertainty, everything usually turns out fine. We all check-in. Get a seat. Board the plane (in a scramble) and get home safe and sound.  Perhaps, deep down, the crowd knows this and just sits tight for the ride, much like we go about our days surviving in the crazy, colorful, diverse, unpredictable and wild chaos that is life in lsrael.  And these days, more than ever, our air travel “problems” seem small, and we feel some comfort surrounded by compatriots going back to a place we call home, with all its chaos.