Part two

We got to the airport on Sunday with minimal fuss and went to Terminal 1, what I think of as the "civilized" terminal. Actual lines, security guards who make slightly more convincing motions of checking you. That sort of thing.

We got checked in and went right through passport control. No muss, no fuss. The only small anomaly happened on the tarmac; none of the bags were loaded on the plane. We had to find our luggage ourselves and hand it to the baggage handler before we could get on the plane. A little odd, but I see the sense.

An hour later we'd landed in Tel Aviv airport. Tel Aviv airport makes Cairo airport look like a dirt strip in a recent war zone. Seriously.

We were greeted by a smiling man with our names on a sign. We struck up a conversation with Daniel, and I switched languages when I realized his Spanish was slightly better than his English. We got to the car, a lovely white mercedes taxi, and shoved our bags into the trunk. A pair of my socks made a leap for freedom, and Daniel laughed and asked me for the word in Castellano for socks. For the life of me, I couldn't remember. (Yes, this becomes important later on.)

I was putting my seat belt on in the back when Daniel reached past KC's knees to rummage in the pocket behind the passenger seat.

He pulled out a silver handgun.

I blinked.

He shoved the gun into his waistband and glanced at me in the mirror.

"It's ok! No worry! It's ok!"

I thought, wow, this blog post is writing itself.