Hold Up at the Airport

Going home is never fun. This trip was rich in history and culture and person-to-person experiences. We had sailed through security on our way into Jordan, and expected to sail right back out. Well, not exactly.

An early morning departure put us at the airport well before dawn. The security line was short, and we were already scoping out coffee on the other side. The officers pulled my bag off the X-ray belt and asked about something in my bag with tubes: my pocket-size binoculars. They asked for my passport, and took both the binoculars and passport behind a wall. Gah! I could leave the binoculars behind if necessary, but I’m not going anywhere without my passport. There was much deliberation with several different important looking men. I sat and waited compliantly while Steve did his best to keep an eye on my passport. After several conversations, and more than 10 minutes, they returned both the binocs and passport, wrapped with a short apology. I don’t know why this happened, but I’m glad that things did not get more…uhm…complicated.

Despite this experience, with our hearts and spirits full of Jordanian hospitality, we boarded our flight towards home.

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