Too many sick days
It was on the third flight (of four) back to Israel from Nepal that somebody fell ill in mid-air. I was mildly feverish myself, on my period, and sleep deprived from being crammed in a horrible waiting room in India for 18 hours. Still, Jon and I were shooting the shit and having a good time when over the intercom we hear "If there's a doctor on board please make it to the front of the airplane."
Worrysome but it didn't sink in till we were informed that, due to the condition of one of the passengers, we would be forced to make an emergency landing in some city on the edge of Pakistan. The city had a name that vaguely resembled the hebrew word for 'hole.' Jon and I exchanged 'what could make this ridiculous journey home any more ridiculous?' glances. There was general joking and mild bewilderment as the Israelies on board (who's blood churned at the thought of taliban anything in the surroundings) and the Indians (who didn't hold much love for their neighbors) tried to find the right balance between calm and concerned.
I went and awoke our sleeping professor/guardian Mark. "Hey." he blearily looked at me. "Hey," I replied "we're making an emergency landing...in Pakistan." I could see the gears turning in his head as he took count of our little scattered crew. "Listen," he said "I want you and Jon to give me your Israeli passports to hide, until we take off you're American." I thought his request was a bit silly considering our American passports didn't have the proper stamps and that the odds of evil arabs dragging us off the plane was slim. However we weren't certain if we would be taken off the plane to wait, and better safe than sorry. As it turned out, we spent a half an hour inside the plane, gazing out the window at flat brown buildings. The air outside seemed still and listless. Everybody played it cool but there was an air of alertness, we were comfortable and at ease but ready to spring to action should the unforeseeable happen.
When we took off again it was a great relief. I never found out exactly what had happened (I hear mutterings that a passenger had just lost consciousness) or what became of the sick passenger. At that point there was only one goal - getting home.
Worrysome but it didn't sink in till we were informed that, due to the condition of one of the passengers, we would be forced to make an emergency landing in some city on the edge of Pakistan. The city had a name that vaguely resembled the hebrew word for 'hole.' Jon and I exchanged 'what could make this ridiculous journey home any more ridiculous?' glances. There was general joking and mild bewilderment as the Israelies on board (who's blood churned at the thought of taliban anything in the surroundings) and the Indians (who didn't hold much love for their neighbors) tried to find the right balance between calm and concerned.
I went and awoke our sleeping professor/guardian Mark. "Hey." he blearily looked at me. "Hey," I replied "we're making an emergency landing...in Pakistan." I could see the gears turning in his head as he took count of our little scattered crew. "Listen," he said "I want you and Jon to give me your Israeli passports to hide, until we take off you're American." I thought his request was a bit silly considering our American passports didn't have the proper stamps and that the odds of evil arabs dragging us off the plane was slim. However we weren't certain if we would be taken off the plane to wait, and better safe than sorry. As it turned out, we spent a half an hour inside the plane, gazing out the window at flat brown buildings. The air outside seemed still and listless. Everybody played it cool but there was an air of alertness, we were comfortable and at ease but ready to spring to action should the unforeseeable happen.
When we took off again it was a great relief. I never found out exactly what had happened (I hear mutterings that a passenger had just lost consciousness) or what became of the sick passenger. At that point there was only one goal - getting home.