The Tel Aviv Flight – Part 1

 I am lucky that I got to travel to scores of cities in around 30 countries over the years on work and there was a time when I was spending more time on flights and at airports than at home or office - but the first Tel Aviv trip ranks right at the top for the  sheer adventure, stress and absurdity.

By 1999, the rush to replace old software systems with the new to deal with the Y2K problem was at its peak. I was leading one such project team to implement a new payroll system at Chartered Semiconductors, Singapore in time for the new millennium.

Late October Errol, my then boss, called my mobile phone (oh yeah, we had Nokia bricks by then) asking me to get to the office immediately and apply for an Israeli visa to travel to Gaza Strip, Palestine for a presentation to the UN Agency. NS, one of my senior colleagues and a pre-sales guru, couldn’t travel as his passport was under renewal.

The visit to the Embassy was surreal - you required an advance appointment, get frisked at the security hut, handover everything to the guards except visa forms and a pen, go through a sequence of security doors and speak to someone through a small window, but little did I realise that it was just the start. I had to convince the customers that it was a critical travel and make alternative arrangements for the week I would be away, get briefed on the client requirements and prepare for the presentation. 

Preparations meant installing the application on a desktop computer converted into Windows NT Server, set up demo data for client specific requirements and run through their demo scripts. Laptop computer were still expensive and not widely available. We couldn’t carry the computer as cabin luggage due to its size so we customised a suitcase with loads of polystyrene and other  padding materials to secure the computer, a lesson learnt the hard way from an earlier travel.

I turned up at the Emirates airlines check-in counter on the night of 02nd November 1999. The check-in lady put all the luggage tags, printed the boarding passes and just before handing them to me opened up my passport once again and after turning through the pages several times asked me, “Sir, I can see your Israel visa but where is the Jordan Visa?”. 

I was taken aback and asked “Ma’am, I’m going to the Gaza strip not Jordan. I am just transiting in Amman so why do I need a visa”, trying to put on the best face of an experienced traveller. Unconvinced, she called her supervisor, showed her my passport and the itinerary and soon a debate followed. 

I was already tired from all the running around in the previous days, it was getting late, the check-in counters were empty, the flight dispatcher was calling to close the check-in and I was getting worried that I might miss the flight. 

The supervisor then explained to me what the problem was – I was scheduled to land in Amman via Dubai and then take a short-haul flight to the newly constructed Gaza airport. However, the catch was that while I landed in the Queen Alia International Airport, my Gaza flight was from Amman Civil airport, a good 20 miles away, for which I had to travel which I had to travel through the city of Amman by taxi hence I needed a visa to enter the country of Jordan. The nearest Jordanian Embassy was in Kuala Lumpur and it would take at least a week to get a visa.

All calls by the supervisor, including calls to her central office in Dubai, and efforts to re-route me failed and I was off-boarded. She made sure that the records were updated as a ticketing error so that I could a refund and assured me that she would call the travel agent to give them feedback.

Feeling beaten and exhausted I hauled the luggage back home, way past midnight, to the surprise of my flatmates and just crashed on the bed.