Nighttime Driving
My visit to Israel went well. I got to see my cousin Shahaf as one of the witches in the Scottish play and enjoyed spending time with my parents. I had never appreciated their beautiful garden when I lived at home with them. But now, when I sat in it, its rich lushness, and the gentle symphony of noises and voices whistling through its ground and trees cheered my soul to no end.
We have become softer and more sentimental, more outwardly loving, then we were in my youth. We parted in tears and hugs at the airport. I boarded the flight at midnight, took a small square of CBD chocolate, and fell asleep immediately.
"They're deplaning us!" a call rang near my ear. I sprang upright in my seat and looked on the airplane screen. The time was 2am. The flight attendants announced a problem with the PA system. The plane could not take off. We were all to deplane and retrieve our luggage.
It took people a few moments to adjust to the new reality--especially the many of them with little children. Imagine, setting up your kids for the night, administering Ambien or warm milk, unpacking their favorite blankets and toys, and now having to rouse them and carry them off the plane into an ungodly hour in Israel. I got off, passed through passport control (we had formally "entered" Israel and now had to exit it again) and retrieved my heavy bag. In between I got to an ATM and obtained some Israeli cash, of which I had none.
A group of vocal folks started discussing their options. I briefly consulted with my soul whether I should join them. I felt that any benefit from organizing would be more than offset by negativity. I was actually surprised by how blasé I was about the plane mishap. Also, at the same time, giggling at myself--I have these moments in which I realize how much the dharma has changed me and these realizations, irony of ironies, make me feel like I'm hot stuff, thus completely defeating the purpose.
Taxi drivers at the exit quoted me prices that I found astounding (though I later found out they were not off mark.) I quickly realized that renting a car and driving up to Tivon, about an hour and twenty minutes from the airport, would be more cost-effective. The thought of finding a hotel near the airport occurred to me, but then again I knew my parents would never forgive me a few hours in Israel not spent with them.
I took the car--a small and graceful Kia--and drove out into the Israeli night. Traffic was scant and Galgalatz radio broadcast some songs I knew and some I didn't. Thoughts came and went, but mostly I was present with the night and the road.
I called my mom as I entered Tivon, not before, so as not to wake them up unnecessarily. They were stunned to see me back. I crawled in my dirty clothes onto the bed and slept for about two and a half hours. My sleep was restless; as the adrenaline from the adverse circumstances and driving subsided, whatever psychoactive amount was in the CBD chocolate kicked in. Visions of visits, monsters--kind of like alebrijes--came to me. I also came to the realization that the car rental experience must have felt cathartic because family visits tend to infantilize me; driven everywhere, invited out for meals, my time not my own and so forth. This was an opportunity to use life skills that rusted for a week--and use them, figuratively, on steroids.
It was a joy to have another brunch with my parents and help them adopt a feral kitten. But then I drove back to return the car. It was a hassle, what with having to fill in the tank and arrive at the airport, but those inconveniences did not shake my basic sense of joy and wellbeing until I got to the airport, where we were told that our replacement flight was to be delayed.
The hysteria was palpable. People were in despair: in transit, with little kids, work obligations, you name it. One of them started yelling at the flight attendant. He did not respond skillfully. It is sometimes heartbreaking to see such anguish in human communications, empathize deeply with both sides, and know that any interference on your part will just make the situation worse. But I was close to losing my cool, too, and almost booked myself a flight on another airline.
Thankfully, the flight left (albeit a few hours late) and I got an entire row to myself--a luxury that made my humble economy seat comparable to a business class ticket in comfort and solitude--and proceeded to read more Brenner, Gnessin, Louidor, and getting a few hours of sleep.
It was a true joy to be here with Chad and the cats. Inti did not cotton to my return immediately, though Chad says he was bereft with my absence. Gulu jumped into the suitcase with abandon. Inti came around eventually, biscuiting my belly and purring softly. All three of them are asleep now.
It is good to be back.
We have become softer and more sentimental, more outwardly loving, then we were in my youth. We parted in tears and hugs at the airport. I boarded the flight at midnight, took a small square of CBD chocolate, and fell asleep immediately.
"They're deplaning us!" a call rang near my ear. I sprang upright in my seat and looked on the airplane screen. The time was 2am. The flight attendants announced a problem with the PA system. The plane could not take off. We were all to deplane and retrieve our luggage.
It took people a few moments to adjust to the new reality--especially the many of them with little children. Imagine, setting up your kids for the night, administering Ambien or warm milk, unpacking their favorite blankets and toys, and now having to rouse them and carry them off the plane into an ungodly hour in Israel. I got off, passed through passport control (we had formally "entered" Israel and now had to exit it again) and retrieved my heavy bag. In between I got to an ATM and obtained some Israeli cash, of which I had none.
A group of vocal folks started discussing their options. I briefly consulted with my soul whether I should join them. I felt that any benefit from organizing would be more than offset by negativity. I was actually surprised by how blasé I was about the plane mishap. Also, at the same time, giggling at myself--I have these moments in which I realize how much the dharma has changed me and these realizations, irony of ironies, make me feel like I'm hot stuff, thus completely defeating the purpose.
Taxi drivers at the exit quoted me prices that I found astounding (though I later found out they were not off mark.) I quickly realized that renting a car and driving up to Tivon, about an hour and twenty minutes from the airport, would be more cost-effective. The thought of finding a hotel near the airport occurred to me, but then again I knew my parents would never forgive me a few hours in Israel not spent with them.
I took the car--a small and graceful Kia--and drove out into the Israeli night. Traffic was scant and Galgalatz radio broadcast some songs I knew and some I didn't. Thoughts came and went, but mostly I was present with the night and the road.
I called my mom as I entered Tivon, not before, so as not to wake them up unnecessarily. They were stunned to see me back. I crawled in my dirty clothes onto the bed and slept for about two and a half hours. My sleep was restless; as the adrenaline from the adverse circumstances and driving subsided, whatever psychoactive amount was in the CBD chocolate kicked in. Visions of visits, monsters--kind of like alebrijes--came to me. I also came to the realization that the car rental experience must have felt cathartic because family visits tend to infantilize me; driven everywhere, invited out for meals, my time not my own and so forth. This was an opportunity to use life skills that rusted for a week--and use them, figuratively, on steroids.
It was a joy to have another brunch with my parents and help them adopt a feral kitten. But then I drove back to return the car. It was a hassle, what with having to fill in the tank and arrive at the airport, but those inconveniences did not shake my basic sense of joy and wellbeing until I got to the airport, where we were told that our replacement flight was to be delayed.
The hysteria was palpable. People were in despair: in transit, with little kids, work obligations, you name it. One of them started yelling at the flight attendant. He did not respond skillfully. It is sometimes heartbreaking to see such anguish in human communications, empathize deeply with both sides, and know that any interference on your part will just make the situation worse. But I was close to losing my cool, too, and almost booked myself a flight on another airline.
Thankfully, the flight left (albeit a few hours late) and I got an entire row to myself--a luxury that made my humble economy seat comparable to a business class ticket in comfort and solitude--and proceeded to read more Brenner, Gnessin, Louidor, and getting a few hours of sleep.
It was a true joy to be here with Chad and the cats. Inti did not cotton to my return immediately, though Chad says he was bereft with my absence. Gulu jumped into the suitcase with abandon. Inti came around eventually, biscuiting my belly and purring softly. All three of them are asleep now.
It is good to be back.
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