At the airport, with a steep learning curve.

I’m at Ben Gurion airport, only a day later than our original tickets.  Youngest son’s visa didn’t come through in time for us to fly out yesterday.  Here’s a hint:  don’t go on Sunday if you have a choice.  We had to pay a substantial penalty for changing the tickets, but it’s still cheaper.  We’re flying El Al, and the service has been, as usual, smiling as well as excellent.  The driver of the cart was the only person who was less than friendly and almost too helpful.  Not that I’m knocking him, he still has it over anyone I’ve dealt with in, say, Philadelphia.

I’m in a wheelchair, usually, so I need more help than most travelers, but being left at the wrong gate and no one coming back for me, not to mention I figured out it was the wrong gate after they started boarding my flight at another (thank goodness I could see across the concourse to figure it out…)

So, my standards aren’t too high, it’s that the service really is that bad some other places.  Anyway, my wheelchair couldn’t accompany me (long story) so I’m stuck relying on a seventeen-year-old, and the kindness of strangers.  I cannot imagine a better place to be so stuck.

My camera is in my bag, but I’m not going to try and dig it out because with a dead dominant hand I will wait until I am in the taxi to Pune rather than have to put it away and get it out again.  I don’t know how the iPad is at photos (I am typing this on the iPad), if I see something to shoot we’ll find out.

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