Eric Epstein

Halter

6/22/15

Home Away from Home

It smelled like a combination of body odor and cheap fast food restaurants, like all airports. I looked up at the airport signs, trying to find any hint of where to go.

I had just landed in Tel Aviv national airport, the largest airport in Israel, and I was trying to find my way to the baggage claim. They had signs in Hebrew, Arabic, Russian, Mandarin, English, and a small picture symbol for the folks that didn’t speak any of those other languages.

I tried to get help from the English sign, but all it read was “Bathroom”. The small symbol, just a small airplane, also wasn’t much help. It was just there to clarify to the extremely unaware travelers that they were indeed in an airport. This left me with absolutely no clue where to go.

All the other busy travelers hustled past me, unaware of the confused American boy staring at the unclear guideposts. My legs felt enervated and numb from the long flight. I felt frustrated and impatient. I had never had any trouble navigating airports or similar places back at home.

I felt out of place in a foreign country, and I was lost from my family, as they all went ahead to the bathroom, and left me to find the baggage claims. I wondered where they were now, because at this point they could have been almost anywhere in the airport, getting food, or the could even be at the baggage claim already. I bet my sister led them on a big tangent.

My sister is the most curious person I know. She is always observing her surroundings, just taking everything in. Whenever she sees anything remotely peculiar or interesting, she has to go to and check it out. Because of this, she always seems just a little disconnected to the rest of the world. I sometimes feel jealous of her ability to sever herself from all the worries and pressure of life.

Anyway, I had to stay focused and aware if I wanted to find the baggage carousel soon.

Then the smell of home wafted up and hit my nostrils, filling them with the familiarity and comfort of my living room couch. I looked around to see where the smell could have possibly come from, and my eyes locked onto the esteemed and legendary golden double arches. I realized I had not eaten dinner yet, and the delicious smells of cooking meat and frying potatoes made my stomach growled with desire. I hurried over the McDonalds and got in line. I quickly decided what I wanted, and walked up to the cashier.

“Hey, I’ll have a Big Mac and a Pepsi,” I told the cashier, a friendly-looking young man with a scruffy beard and beat-up glasses.

“Of course. Will that be it?” He asked with no accent. It was nice to have somebody who actually spoke English serve me.

“Yeah, just those.” When my food came, he handed it to me

“Enjoy! Let me know if you need anything else.” He smiled.

“Thanks,” I responded. I almost walked away but I took a step back and approached the cashier again.

“Actually, do you know where the baggage claims are?”

“Yeah, just over there past that Subway to your left,” He said confidently.

“Alright. Thank you so much,” I said gratefully. I walked towards the baggage claim and took a bite out of my burger. I heard angels strumming harps in my head as the fake, greasy burger slid down my esophagus. It almost felt as though I was home.