Time to head home.
I’ll say one thing about these early flight: things move faster.
The taxi driver nearly broke a new BCN track record. I noted that he crossed himself as we zoomed pasted the cemetery.
In the lounge I started to pull down from the interwebs my office for the whole day when I noticed a guy standing by a pillar with a napkin on his head, intent on his phone. “Jewish”, I guessed.
He read and bobbed a little. “Yep”, quoth I. I felt some solidarity.
I don’t have to have a head covering and I can start on breakfast.
And so the trek home beginneth.
I must get some reading down on these flights.
My fellow praying traveler – who looks like he could bust 2x4s with his hand – is in the row across from me with his shawl and kippah and phylactery bound on. He is going at it pretty intensely with his portion. I think had better say some more office to hold up the starboard side.
I’m waiting at gate in AMS. Since the last time I flew through here they changed the security set up. It’s pretty efficient.
Speaking of efficient, the orderly Dutch at Schipol announce via a neutral and yet ominous slowly paced male voice,”Passenger Fatty McButerpants traveling to Libville, you are delaying the flight. Please proceed to Gate E436 or your luggage will be removed.” You sense they really mean something like, “And your head will be shaved and you will be frog marched in front of hundreds of responsible people who know where to go and when, you inefficient dope.” Having both Prussian blood and having moderated a blog and a forum, I appreciate this at a deeply satisfying level. Only my many years in Rome have tempered this somewhat.
Settled in for another long leg. At least I have a fairly quick process Stateside with the fast entry and security. It the last leg that I don’t enjoy, but it’s mercifully short.
Some good news as they close the door.
It’s good to see that your bag is on the plane with you (hopefully with everything you packed still in it.)
They tell us our flight time is only 7:30. Quick. And we are leaving early, to boot.
I’m back in these USA.
Customs went smoothly, my bag was one of the first off the plane, and I did security in a flash. HINT when flying to DTW from abroad if you have TSA PRECHECK: There is no PreCheck downstairs. BUT… you can go upstairs to the regular security area. If there is a big line stacked up because more than one jumbo arrived and Fred and Wilma – not so familiar with travel – multiplied by 500 are keeping that line nice and slow, just go upstairs.
Ah, welcome to the Netherlands, even if for a very short moment!
I have great liking and affection for Jewish people who are actually religious and pray!
I am mystified .
Are there two Fatty Macbutterpants? One the the oftmentioned and familiar Bishop of Libville , the second a putative namesake passenger at Schipol Libville-bound, or is it the Bishop travelling as a private person in mufti?
I am interested – time was when a vistor to Madrid and Barcelona for a few days had some anecdotes and interesting impressions to tell. Sure, the more Spaniards are less catholic and more secular the more they are but washed out drab copies of anywhere else, instead of being the fiery mad unmodern catholic descendants of Pelayo’s free subjects. Maybe you’ll post, or maybe you won’t. But I do hope you’ve been welcomed!
And, luckily, the crew on your flight seemed to know about phylacteries!
The idea that they do, and you can, actually know your luggage is on the plane amazes me! (I tend to regard checking your luggage as a complicated form of legalized gambling… )
Trivia: The proper, traditional Hebrew name for “phylactery” is “tefillin.”
Do you prefer the BrevMeum app to a real book? Is the Ordo pretty accurate on the app? If you prefer a book, which publisher’s edition do you find yourself reaching for the most? If you prefer the app, which device?
Glad you had a safe trip back!
I bet that book is great.
I’ve had Jewish friends in the past but have lost track of them, sadly. However, I find myself doing a bit of that rhythmic bowing when saying the Rosary. Not always, but often, as it just seems to happen.