Yet eerily when the aircraft doors were sealed shut, they all began to cry and transformed themselves into a chorus of screams and crying. They should definitely have an 'only-kids' flight. Or, alternatively, spray the plane with a healthy dose of 'Baby-B-Gone.'
For all intents and purposes there could have been a posted sign that reads:
"Diaper Changing Station: Rows 10-58"
Just imagine what that would do..especially considering that 94 of the 232 of the new immigrants were children!
Take Off!
As the plane lifted off, so did the spirits of the 232 new olim.
Some began to tear; I just smiled with a surreal sort of amazement that the moment had finally come.
I noticed that on the flight, as the babies screamed in excitement for getting to Israel (or whatever it happened to be at all points throughout the journey), there were many people who were barefoot. Not just that they removed their flip-flops in their seats, but actually walking around barefoot. In the aisles, the galleys and..the bathrooms! Certainly not picture worthy.
I took an opportunity to congregate with other passengers in the stern of the aircraft for ma'ariv, the evening prayer service. This would definitely be suspect and probably not permitted aboard a US airline (as evidenced during a flight earlier this year), though was quite the norm on this flight. There was a particular prayer that I took note of that asks God for a blessing to gather the Jewish people from the four corners of the earth and return them to Israel. As might be imagined, I was struck with the repeated meaning and realization that I was 'returning' to Israel as a resident and that this blessing was, in a manner of speaking, going its course for me and the rest of my peers aboard this flight.
(The picture here is not of the evening service but rather of someone praying shacharit, the morning service, directly in front of my seat.)
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