From Nation's Capital to Nation's Capital: The Azza Street Spy

Do I Smell, or Something?

Pension Non-Update

It's been ages since I posted last. But, no fear. There have been no meaningful developments with my choosing a retirement account. I have since contacted another agent and spoken to the HR boss at my job. All of these conversations have lead me to further paralysis. Contrary to each agent's claim, it is not urgent that I choose a plan. However, the HR boss at my work told me that I have to choose a plan withing two months. So, you can expect to read "Pension Madness, Part II" in two months and not a day sooner.

General Update

My absence from my blog can be explained quite simply. In preparation for my trip to the US, I was working mad-overtime; my three-point-five weeks overseas were well-spent with family, friends, Pesach holiday, and various responsibilities; I've been back in Israel for 5 days and split my time between readjusting to the time zone, environment, and general scene, and putting in extra overtime at work. Typically when I am not writing it is not b.c there is nothing going on. Really, it's b.c there is too much going on to stop and write about it.

Without addressing the more significant events of my pre, mid, or post-travel, I will share a quick anecdote about the journey:

Quick Anecdote About the Journey

The Israeli Workers' Union is threatening to strike Wed 21 March, the day of my departure. The cause for the strike is the same as the last one that I posted about 29 Nov 2006. General strikes close down the airports; begin at 6 am; and, I am scheduled to depart at 5:30. So, I'm kind of stressed about actually getting out of the country.

The airport is a relative zoo, as El Al day is bumping up its day flights to pre-6 am departures so the passengers can reach their destinations without violating the strike.

Strike Status

We departed late but before 6 am. Two passengers who checked their baggage had not arrived at the gate. The options consisted of waiting for them to show or find their luggage and remove it. All luggage requires that its owners travel on the same plane. I'm edgy, b.c I don't want to miss the 6:00 deadline. I have no idea when we really departed. I fell asleep after the captain's 5:45 announcement and woke up more than an hour later while we were in the air.

However, when checking email in Europe, I read that the strike was delayed until 9 am to allow commuters to take the morning train. Not sure how this helps, b.c they can't get home. And, it wasn't announced, so no commuters actually knew about this accomodation. Point: My plane was three hours before the strike deadline, but I sure didn't know that at the time.

Boarding the Plane

After sleeping from 11:30-12:30 pre-flight and waking to catch the shared cab to the airport, I am waiting at the gate by 3:30 am ready to pass out. All of a sudden a familiar voice calls, "Hi, Efrat." None other than the eldest (20 y.o.) son of RDBF (Rabbi of the beloved Georgetown Synagogue) is on my Swiss Air flight to Zurich. He has a two-hour layover in Zurich while mine is 26 hours. He is not leaving the airport while I am going to visit friends and former members of KI, the beloved Georgetown Synagogue. We chat, wait together, and I ask him to wake me when it's time to board. I ask him where he is sitting; not all that close to me. But, kind of irrelevant b.c I plan to sleep the whole flight.

I board, take my seat, and start dozing. The plane has not departed and three people are in conversation in the aisle next to my row: two Hassidish men and a female flight attendant. For visual amusement, this flight attendant is a black woman and wears a nose ring. I stir and the flight attendant asks if I followed the conversation.

FA: These men have a problem sitting in these seats next to you.

Me: That's fine. They can sit on the floor. It won't bother me.

FA: Oh. [She seems a bit befuddled, not sure how to resolve this. She cannot legitimately ask me to move, and isn't sure what to do with these unsual men with their unusual request.]

Sidebar: these "men" are Hassidish, either American or European, probably in their low-20's, and won't sit next to a woman for unclear "religious" reasons. The following dialogue is filled with pauses.

Hassidish Guy: Will you do me a favor?

Me: What?

HG: If I find someone to switch seats with you, will you agree to switch seats.

Me: No. [pause; new thought] But, if you find someone to switch seats with you, I'll agree to sit next to the new person. [Feeling kind of heroic here.] And, tell me, why is it that you won't sit next to me?

HG: It is my custom to not sit next to women.

Me: Why is it that you have a custom to make me switch seats? Why isn't your custom to find yourself a new seat?

HG: B.c you are a single individual and my friend and I are a pair. [Reader, if you ponder this one, you can see there is some logic.]

The guy in front of me is laughing over this exchange. I like my windeow seat near the front of the plane. I'm not moving for some self-righteous bozo who has a "religiou" custom of inconveniencing female passengers.

Then, another new thought hits me:

Me: Go find the guy in 28D. He might agree to switch.

And so, Dano Freundelly moves up to my row. He is a big guy and willingly agreed to swap an aisle seat for a middle seat in this tiny plane. Even my knees were in my throat.

Me: Dan, great to see you! You didn't have to switch.

DF: I know. But, I would rather sit in a middle seat next to you than an aisle seat next to a stranger.

Awww.

Me: Thanks, but please don't be too excited. I'm expecting to sleep the whole flight.

Which I mostly did, and he did not sleep at all.

DF: My dad hates these guys. When they ask him to switch, he refuses and says, "Why is it a problem for you to sit next to women and not me?"

Good point, but a line I can never use b.c of my gender. The Hassidish pair were split up, but it worked. DF was sitting next to a man in row 28, and the aisle guy in my row got to sit next to DF.

This story is sufficiently amusing, but gets even better with the epilogue.

Epilogue

When flying from Frankfurt back to Tel Aviv, I am again dead to the world after being awake for many consecutive hours including a 12-hour layover in Germany. (Saw some great things in the city; for another entry.) I board my window seat and notice a 40+ Habad-looking man take the seat next to me while dozing. We ignore each other. As I doze fitfully, I notice a woman is sitting next to me.

Me: Is this your seat?

Her: My seat was the aisle one two rows up. But, the ultra-religious man asked to switch with me. I agreed.

Now, this guy was discreet and gracious. If I had been more tired, I would not have known that they switched at all. However, I'm feeling kind of rejected. Will anyone sit next to me? Do I need to change my deodorant?

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