Thought I’d post this as a separate post purely for the comedic value of me, sat in an interrogation booth at an Israeli airport, highly unsettled about the prospect of being cavity searched by two surly Israeli border guards wielding semi-automatic guns…
The flight home was supposed to be simple – get a taxi to Ben Gurion Airport, get on a plane and fly home. Whilst our immigration into Israel had been long-winded and thorough, we presumed that having been allowed into the country that it would be straightforward to leave, considering we had all the appropriate entry stamps and had passed the IDF interviews at the border some days before. It turned out however that we couldn’t have been more wrong. We arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare and joined the queue for security to get into the terminal building. Over the previous years Israel had become a bit of a European tourist hotspot – the advent of budget airlines and luxury resorts had made Israel a rival to Egypt for sunbathing and holidaying. We were happily queuing with other tanned looking Europeans, and didn’t think much when a sticker was placed on our passports containing a number and a Hebrew letter, as this seemed to be happening to everyone.
At the next security checkpoint it became apparent that the stickers on our passports singled us out as passengers of much more interesting security significance than the sunburned Europeans. Clearly the guards had seen the passport stamps for Syria and Lebanon and decided to have some fun with us. We later realised that the number 5 on our passport stickers designated us as the highest risk passengers, whilst the Hebrew letter gave the security forces unlimited rights to interview, interrogate and search every inch of our luggage and our bodies. First, my bag was completely unpacked and every single item of clothing was inspected individually. Every other item was scanned individually and carefully scrutinised. I had bought some *AMAZING* Israeli chocolate spread to bring home, and this caused the security staff a whole world of trauma as they had to diagnose whether it were a tasty chocolate based spread or plastic explosive. Other than a couple of disgusted looks at my Lebanese flag, we were allowed to move on to the next checkpoint area. At this point I breathed a HUGE sigh of relief that I’d decided to throw away my Hezbollah T-shirt – otherwise i’d probably still be in Israeli prison today…
At the next and final checkpoint, it turned out the security forces had permission to search through mobile phones and other electronic devices for any evidence of anything suspicious. All photos on my camera were inspected, with the guard stopping occasionally to ask where and when a certain photo was taken and paying close attention to photos taken in Lebanon – especially of the military barracks in Tripoli Citadel we stumbled upon. They then went through the photos on my phone, again scrutinising and querying anything suspicious. At this point it looked like we were high and dry, but then two more official looking security guards led us through a side door and into separate booths – which looked ominously like changing rooms, the type someone might enter just before they are about to have a full cavity search. We were questioned individually and told that we would be arrested if we were not truthful, and eventually led back to our luggage and allowed to enter the airport proper. Not since then have I ever complained about airport security – or been so glad that I haven’t had to have every cavity of my being inspected by an Israeli.
Leaving Israel to go home
And that was it! just over 4 weeks of Middle Eastern adventure came to an end just as it started – on a budget airline heading back to a less than salubrious UK airport.
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