Newark or later

 Just a quick starter.

Many moons ago (shout out to the new baby) we were expecting the child to get married in Israel so we bought us some tickets. Then, the Covid. By law, all old people have to include the definite article before all important tech/science nouns, thus "the Covid". The wedding was moved to the good ol' US of A and the tickets began burning a hole in a variety of wallets and the pockets in which the aforesaid wallets resided.

What to do? Well, one option presented itself when my school calendar was printed -- I noticed that the school would be giving 2 extra days off around Thanksgiving so I decided to use one of the tickets and see the country side. And by that I mean the inside of the restaurants in the country. So off I go.

I'm currently sitting in EWR, nice and early, traffic unable to stop me from getting here with enough time to move in and make the terminal my new home. Thank you to the Mrs. for the ride (and the doggo for the company). I know it is fashionable to make fun of me for being beurotic and ridiculously early but I wasn't even the first people here! I got on line behind a nice Israeli couple (I define "nice" as they didn't try to talk to me) and then we were told that we had to leave the line and go to the pre-security area which had yet to be set up. So, yeah, we were early.

What fascinated me was what went on before the security process started. First, a gentleman from El Al walked around and looked in all the garbage cans and behind all of the benches. He checked everywhere, just to make sure that the entire area was clear and safe before anything began. Then we waited as the El Al staff set up their check posts, distributed their various stickers and pens and then started peppering us with questions. Fortunately, I had studied and knew my own name and where my sister lives. A few questions later and I was cleared to go wait on line! I felt so important.

Off to the check-in line where I waited for the various chek-in people to take their marks. I was called to the fore and asked about the contents of my bag -- is there anything hazardous? No. Are there any batteries? No...I mean, yes. Uh oh. To save space in my carry-on I had moved a camera and some little batteries into my suit case. Experts needed to be contacted and consulted. Tense moments passed. Clocks ticked. Somewhere, a dog barked. I don't know where, but odds are, amirite? Then, the thumbs up. I was cleared to hand someone else my suitcase. Then, off to the gate security area where I was cleared to wait on line!

Next up, the wandering queue leading to a gentleman who wanted to get a good look at me. This is fine because I'm awesome to look at. Then I got waved through to wait on line so I could partially disrobe, put everything I have in plastic bins, wait for it and me to get properly irradiated, and then claim it on the other side. Huzzah. In my carry on there is now a Payday bar glowing green.

By the way, I had all the paperwork ready and they checked it -- not for long, but maybe that's because I had it all at the ready and they were so impressed with my neurotic organization that they trusted that no one who is that meticulous could be up to no good. Or they are just better at doing their job than I would be in their place so they need less time per passenger. Either way, I reassembled myself and began the slow walk to gate B63 where I now find myself. So I will settle in (I have plenty of time), watch Dallas stink up the joint and psych myself up for a flight into the gustatorily satisfying unknown.

More eventually; stay tuned to this bat channel. Or ben channel if you are a boy.