Terrorist khafiyas at the airport

The Tel Aviv’s airport guys gave me a hard time about a couple khafiyas I bought in Jordan. “So you know what this means?!!!”, asked their deeply concerned boss when they showed him the red one. Then they found the black one: “How many of these you got? Who are they for? Did they specifically ask you to buy them?”

I said I only had those two. But there was a third one. Someone lost it in the West Bank town of Bi’lin, when Palestinian and international demonstrators were retreating in cloud of tear-gas. I picked it up and hid it because it’s not just a khafiya, it has a Fatah emblem and, had the security guys found it, they’d have declared me a terrorist threat for sure and closed the airport. That would be an annoyance for hundreds of other passengers, and given the chaos they already had in Europe, I thought I’d better spare them the bad moment.

I had to cross SEVEN security filters, anyway. The airplane left two hours late. It was flying low and as if the pilots were unsure about the direction, probably due to the volcanic ash cloud, though it never reached the Eastern Mediterranean. And I finally arrived safe and sound to Istanbul!

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