Just 12 hours before flight time, my doctor put down his otoscope and calmly informed me I wasn’t going anywhere for at least two weeks
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Mt
y overstuffed suitcase is closed weighing in at 51 pounds without the 3-pound block of American cheese. The Amazon packages are packed even the two that required overnight shipping. The outfits purchased for the wedding in Yerushalayim are carefully tucked under the toys puzzles and adorable little girl dresses. The worn red suitcase stands at attention at the door.
The only problem with this perfect pre-trip scenario is that El Al Flight 8 took off 36 hours ago and the wedding I was going to attend must be coming to a joyful finish.
I reach for another tissue and glance at the clock. Too early for the next round of antibiotics and antihistamines. My mind drifts. When my children were younger they were fans of a series of books called The Magic School Bus. The books featured a delightfully fun-loving teacher Ms. Frizzle who would lead her bright and enthusiastic students into the wonders of scientific knowledge. Usually through various “wondrous travels of a magical school bus ” the class was entangled in the coils of the digestive system hurtling through outer space or in danger of being attacked by giant garden insects.
“Does anyone have a good Plan B?” one of the curly headed little people stuck at the bottom of the ocean would invariably pipe up. A bespectacled fellow student would respond “If there was a good Plan B it would have been Plan A!”
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