Travel Paranoia

Awaiting a flight out of Tel Aviv is nerve-wracking.  On one hand, I was ecstatic to be going home.  Despite the amazing time I had during FFIPP, I couldn’t wait to get home and share all my stories and pictures with my family, sleep in my own bed, and calm down a little.  However, all that excitement has to be put on hold in order to figure out how to get through Ben Gurion Airport security without missing your flight.  What did I do during these five weeks?  I certainly can’t tell them what I really did.  I certainly can’t let them find anything Palestine-related, and god forbid they look at my pictures.  

I’ve heard stories of other activists having all of their pictures deleted, or even their entire hard drives.  Marrayam, Audrey, Jennifer, and I all had the same flight out of Tel Aviv to Heathrow, so we spent ages trying to decide if we would show up at the airport as a group or not.  Going alone looks suspicious, but going as a group is riskier - if they found something in one of our bags, we would all be held up and potentially cross-examined. 

The night before, we all dealt with our stress in different ways.  Marrayam decided that if she went to sleep she would have nightmares, so she met up with friends she knew from Be’er Sheva and went out the whole night.  Jennifer also didn’t sleep, but instead repacked her suitcase multiple times looking for anything that would get her held up at security.  Audrey decided her best tactic was to play the dumb American tourist, and laid out a miniskirt to wear through security before falling right to sleep.  I repeatedly went through my pictures on my laptop, rearranging photos and changing album titles until I accepted that if they turned on my laptop and searched for anything it was a lost cause anyway.  

The stress was due to the fact that many Israelis view activists as aiding the enemy.  Israeli human rights organizations have been accused of aiding Palestinian terrorists by investigating war crimes in Gaza, so this is the kind of warped perception we were dealing with.  If they think you’re part of the International Solidarity Movement (ISM) or the International Socialist Organization (ISO), you’re in trouble.  

We woke up at 4am to leave for our flight.  I started out by spilling burning hot coffee all down my dress, so I guess it was foreshadowing.  We took turns in the taxi playing out “What If…” scenarios and basically psyching ourselves up for the worst.  Marrayam and I decided it would be best to go in separately, since if they did question us together the details of our stories might not line up.  Jennifer and Audrey decided to go in together.  

We got on the first line of security.  In this line, a security worker asks you a few questions about your trip and then assigns you a number from one to seven, seven being the highest security threat.  Israelis get either a one or a two at the highest, Jews from abroad might get a two or a three, and Muslims usually get a six.  Marrayam is Pakistani and Muslim, and before we had gotten to the front of the line she was singled out and pulled to the front, where they made her wait.

I was asked a few simple questions.  How long were you here?  A month.  Is this your first trip to Israel?  No, I was here last summer.  Why?  I was in Jerusalem with my uncle.  He lives here?  No, he came with me from the states.  What was the purpose of your trip?  To see the religious sites and travel a bit.  Who did you come with?  I met up with friends at hostels.  From this exchange, the woman slapped a sticker on each of my belongings.

 I glanced down, not wanting to show that I knew what the number on the sticker meant, but my face must have given away my shock when I registered the huge “5” glaring up at me.  Five.  Five?  For a nice, blond, blue eyed, American girl with a nice dress on with coffee down the front?  Of course I don’t want to be let off easy because I don’t “look” like the typical threat, but since Israel obviously racially profiles, I was shocked.  I think the reasons she gave me a five are as follows:  Americans don’t usually backpack (plus, I had a rolling suitcase, which doesn’t lend itself well to the whole hostel scene).  Americans don’t usually travel alone.  Americans don’t usually travel for a month - we’re the one week vacation type, not like Europeans who can get months off from their jobs.  It’s also unusual for an American who’s not Jewish to visit Israel once, let alone two summers in a row.  So despite my appearance and the fact that I didn’t look like a hippie activist, I put her on her guard…   Great.

After my belongings went through an X-ray machine, I was led over to the side of a wrap-around counter where security opens your bags to search through them.  They have computer screens to show them the scan from the X-ray so they can gauge what looks suspicious.  On my side were Palestinians (6 from their stickers) and Marrayam. First they opened my bag and ran a test for explosive chemicals on the handles and some items inside.  The guard came back with the reading, and tells me “something came up.  Your suitcase tested positive.”   …Um, what??  I still don’t know whether or not he was telling the truth.  I suspect they just wanted a reason to search my bag more thoroughly.  

For the next hour or so, I watched as they removed every item from my suitcase and ran it through the scanner.  The eyelash curler again, bras and underwear patted down, and then thrown into a pile in a bin.  I attempted to stay calm - it’s their job, they do face real security threats, they need to do this.  But as I was questioned for the fifth time as to whether the soap I packed was actually soap, and if it was actually mine, I looked up at the departures board and realized my flight was boarding.  At this point, a woman took my passport from me for about fifteen minutes, saying she would check me into my flight (which, funnily enough, i still had to do after i was finally let go).  Then they said they would help me save time by doing a personal search of my body now, so I wouldn’t have to wait on another line for it later.  They escorted me to a tiny room with a metal detector and curtains while all of my belongings, including my laptop and camera, were left with their security. A woman made me walk through the metal detector three times, each time setting it off.  Finally she asked for my shoes, and walked away with them for ten minutes.  When she returned she had me walk through the metal detector again, and then led me back to my belongings.  

Ten minutes before my flight was to take off, they inform me they’ve finished their search.  As they hand me my empty suitcase and push across the pile of everything i packed for five weeks, I am kindly informed that I’d better hurry up and pack and run to my gate because I’m probably going to miss my flight.  Gee, thanks.  They inform me that my chargers and adaptor are security threats, so they will be put in a separate cardboard box and shipped with me so I can pick them up at JFK.  

I’m the second to last person on the plane, but I’m on it at least.  When we all arrive at Heathrow, I find out that Marrayam was a six and Jennifer and Audrey were also fives.  Marrayam had her Quran confiscated because it’s a security threat (a Bible, however, is not).  Marrayam was held for two hours, Audrey got right through without being stopped, and Jennifer was held the longest - she was the last one on the plane.  Despite being extremely religious and having a third suitcase entirely filled of crosses for her family, Jennifer told them she had been in Bethlehem (the West Bank…  also the place Jesus was born…) which I guess makes them think some Palestinian put a bomb in her bag.  

Despite feeling shaken and angry from the search, we all had to agree that we were really lucky.  They didn’t turn on any of our cameras or laptops, and didn’t go into too much detail with their questioning.  

The best part was arriving at JFK and seeing our cardboard boxes of confiscated items come around the conveyor belt.  I picked up my box to see that it had completely broken - one side had a gaping hole in it.  Great security, Israel.  Luckily my chargers and adaptor were still in the box.  Marrayam’s box arrived intact, that is, until she picked it up and the handle fell off, ripping the cardboard in two.  I guess Israel just wants to make travel as difficult as possible, and if they can’t actually confiscate your property for good, at least they can put it in a flimsy box so there’s the possibility of all of your things falling out along the journey.