A Traveler's Tale of the City of Zion: Part 2 of 3
The City of Strangers
Andrew S. Lay
Issue date: 6/13/06 Section: Features
As the plane descended into Tel-Aviv, dark clouds and flashes of lightning filled the sky. Foreboding images as I awoke from my drunken stupor. No turning back now.
The plane rocked idly back and forth and many of the passengers sucked in quick breaths and gasped aloud in fear. I thought to myself, "what do they have to fear? This is God's country."
The plane touched down without any complications. I disembarked the plane in the wee hours of the morning and wandered idly to the customs counter.
I marveled at the awesome construction of the international terminal. An enormous room fashioned with the tiles on the floor forming a Star of David. Hanging high above the floor was a globe that filled half the space of the room and trickled water down to a fountain far below. I waited patiently for my turn at the customs counter where a portly young Jewish woman sat with disdain in her eyes. She asked me all the normal questions.
"What is the purpose of your visit to Israel?" she asked angrily. I told her I was a student journalist and that I wanted to take pictures and get a story for my paper.
"Why do you want to take pictures of Israel?" she asked. I balked and thought, "what a stupid question." This angry little troll would have liked nothing better than to keep me from entering her country. I could understand her point.
Israel is hated widely in this world, and many people would like nothing more than to do harm to her. So I gave her country credit and praise. She never smiled but she let me in, much to her personal dismay.
As I walked out side and took my first breath of the promised land's air, God's finger tore the sky with a violent flash of light and deafening reverberations. That night it hailed near Jerusalem and the first recorded tornado in Israeli histroy scarred the land. Not a very pleasing welcome sign.
As I tried to hail a taxi, an elderly woman was weeping uncontrollably and wandering around in the rain. She would grab her face and scream at the sky in a banshee's howl, vocalizing whatever tremendous grief she felt inside. People passed her by, giving her awkward glances as though she were some crazy woman.
The plane rocked idly back and forth and many of the passengers sucked in quick breaths and gasped aloud in fear. I thought to myself, "what do they have to fear? This is God's country."
The plane touched down without any complications. I disembarked the plane in the wee hours of the morning and wandered idly to the customs counter.
I marveled at the awesome construction of the international terminal. An enormous room fashioned with the tiles on the floor forming a Star of David. Hanging high above the floor was a globe that filled half the space of the room and trickled water down to a fountain far below. I waited patiently for my turn at the customs counter where a portly young Jewish woman sat with disdain in her eyes. She asked me all the normal questions.
"What is the purpose of your visit to Israel?" she asked angrily. I told her I was a student journalist and that I wanted to take pictures and get a story for my paper.
"Why do you want to take pictures of Israel?" she asked. I balked and thought, "what a stupid question." This angry little troll would have liked nothing better than to keep me from entering her country. I could understand her point.
Israel is hated widely in this world, and many people would like nothing more than to do harm to her. So I gave her country credit and praise. She never smiled but she let me in, much to her personal dismay.
As I walked out side and took my first breath of the promised land's air, God's finger tore the sky with a violent flash of light and deafening reverberations. That night it hailed near Jerusalem and the first recorded tornado in Israeli histroy scarred the land. Not a very pleasing welcome sign.
As I tried to hail a taxi, an elderly woman was weeping uncontrollably and wandering around in the rain. She would grab her face and scream at the sky in a banshee's howl, vocalizing whatever tremendous grief she felt inside. People passed her by, giving her awkward glances as though she were some crazy woman.
2008 Woodie Awards
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