Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Last Night: My Mother Demonstrates What Not to Do at Airport Security in Tel Aviv, and My Cat Tries to Commit Grand Theft Auto

Getting Mom off to the airport, sounds like an easy task? Noooo.

The flight was at 11, so we were going to pick B.B. Av up from work and continue straight to the airport. The clutch on the Blue Shark, however, had other ideas. It had been making protest noises for a while now. We didn't go to the Dead Sea because I did not want to break down in the middle of the world's most humid desert and sit in 115 degree heat with 110% humidity while waiting for a tow. But as I flipped a bitch in front of B.B. Av's work, I realized I couldn't go in reverse with my three point turn.

Quick abandon of the Shark in favor of the Silver Bullet, leaving the Shark parked in front of his work, back end pointed downhill so I wouldn't need reverse. (Yes, my mother had to push a car on her way to the airport. Worst daughter ever. B.B. Av helped at least.)

We got to the airport, which was packed (actually, everything everywhere, including the roads, was packed yesterday) and finally managed to catch an elevator to the departure floor. Except that the departures for US Airways specifically were on a different floor. Doh!

Mom got through the security questions bit, but then I saw her line up to check in, suspiciously unencumbered. "Mom!" I yelled. "Where's your luggage?"

She looked back at me across the airport and her eyes got big and she raced back to the luggage security line where she had left her luggage.

Hint: attempting to abandon two oversized metal suitcases in Ben Gurion Airport is not recommended.

She was then directed to the anal probe level of luggage security, where her Turkish platters were examined closely and chemical signatures were sought. None found, she had only been put back about a half hour.

She then got in line behind a family of six, four of whom were toddlers, and checked in. We went upstairs for a quick frozen yogurt and had some laughs with B.B. Av about linguistics. Finally, it was time to board and we said some goodbyes and she got in the right line.

We drove home, deciding to deal with the Shark in the morning even though it would have been cooler the night before. We pulled up to the house, and there was a convertible, brand new, dark blue Corvette parked in front of the house. No idea whose it was, but as we both looked, we saw two small gray cats sitting in the driver and passenger seats.

Of course, one was Namerovsky, paws on the wheel.

Visions of lawsuits and paying for Corvette upholstery ran through my head and I flipped out. (Later, I also had visions of Namerovsky being driven off to some singles bar and lost forever in a disco inferno, which was even more upsetting, believe it or not.)

"Namerovsky!" I hissed. "Get out of there right now! Come home! You have had enough for tonight!" I didn't want to look like this was my cat lest the owner come out and beat me with some gold chains, but I wanted him out of that car and fast.

He finally jumped out, following the other gray cat for a while, but eventually he responded to my calls and followed us into the house. We shut him in the bedroom so he wouldn't be tempted. It was, all in all, quite the evening. And Mom should be in Vegas pretty soon.


Milk and Two Sugars said...

And Namerovsky, of course ;)

Milk and Two Sugars said...

Sleep well, Sara.

gabbiana said...

Awwww, kitteh! (Totally serves that driver right. Who the hell leaves the top of an expensive car down on the street? Even if you're not anticipating cats, I mean, what about bird shit?)