Chapter 131

The next day – Ben (Valentin), Jens (Dasha), Ira and Mira – On the mission

We successfully deploy the latest major device from the diplomatic box and walk back to the hotel. I’m thankful that it’s the fuck gone since now things should be easier and safer for all of us. We walk back to the hotel, take showers and change clothes. We then dispose of our old clothes, check out, and take a taxi to the airport.

I can see the relief on Dasha and the twins faces because they no longer have to wear the burkas. Of course Dasha, Mira and Ira still wear the required head scarves. The taxi arrives at the airport and it unloads us at the Turkish airline drop off because they are the major airline that flies from Medina to Tel Aviv. Unfortunately no one flies directly into Jerusalem so we will be forced to take ground transportation to Jerusalem.

And thank God I no longer wear my man-fucking-dress and the even worse fake beard! Instead, I am pretending to be a businessman so I’m wearing a suit and the beard is trash. Even though I hate suits, they are still better than the fucking man dress.

We take our suitcases into the terminal where I of course lead the way. I walk up to the ticket counter, present my bag and the porter delivers the greatly lighter diplomatic box. I show my diplomatic passport and they issue my boarding pass without a problem.

Dasha, Mira and Ira, do likewise then we head to the waiting area for our flight, find seats for the four of us and begin the wait for the flight...

It’s so fricken-fracken good to be done with the stupid burka! If I had to wear that medieval torture device much longer, I was going to go crazy! I look at Mira and Ira and I can tell that Mira shares my feelings but Ira seems impervious to almost everything. Sometime Ira reminds me of Spock on Star Trek by the way she contains her emotions. I can’t wait for this mission to finish, but I have concerns about our trip into Israel since they practice serious security and we could get caught.

They call early boarding for our flight so Valentin walks up to the ticket counter, shows his diplomatic passport and he is ushered to early boarding. We follow a respectful distance behind him and take our place in the line. Once again we board the flight first, find our seats and settle in for the flight to Istanbul. Yeah, unfortunately there is a layover on this flight. I would love to see some of the sights in Istanbul, but perhaps another day we will travel here...

While my sister Mira and Ms. Blaine revel in their new found freedom from the burkas, I have concerns about our entry into Israel. The security there is serious and we might have threatening issues. I do however have something that I can attempt if we encounter those issues...

It is refreshing to be free from the constraints of the burka since they are tedious to wear and present even worse obstacles to remain sanitary under one. Our current pant suits and head scarfs are much superior accoutrements.

The flight ascends into the air, Mr. Blaine reclines his seat and quickly sombulates. I look at Ira and she says in Farsi, “Miranda, please take the first watch while I sleep.”

I remove the book from the front of my seat and begin to read...

I no sooner fall asleep than my ears begin to pop which signals we’re starting our descent so I wake up. I was a little shocked at myself for falling asleep so easily, but Dasha kept me up last night in an unsuccessful attempt to have sex with me. Yeah the flight from Medina to Istanbul is only about three and a half hours, but it felt so good to be out of the man dress I drifted off. I glance over to find Dasha and Ira are sleeping while Mira reads. The pilot comes on and announces, “Please fasten your seat belts - we will be landing in Ataturk airport shortly. Dasha wakes up and I tease in Russian, “Даша ты выглядишь по-китайски.”

Dasha you look Chinese

Dasha grins, pretends to put her hands like cat paws and begins to sing, “Мы сиамские, если вы пожалуйста.”

We are Siamese if you please.

Ira wakes up and complains, “Даша, если бы вы не хотели секса прошлой ночью, я бы спал лучше.”

Dasha, if you had not wanted sex last night and disrupted our attempts at relaxation, I might have slept better.

It’s my turn to complain, “ Жены виду ваши языки, другие могут говорить по-русски.”

Wives, mind your tongues since others might speak Russian.

Both Dasha and Irina apologize for their mistake and promise not to make that mistake again.

The plane makes a rather rough landing, we deplane and begin to shop in the secure area of the airport while waiting for our flight to Tel Aviv. I see something and tease, “Даша мы должны купить это за вас.”

Dasha, we should buy that for you.

Dasha takes one look at it and replies, “Я не хочу, чтобы носить один из тех, кто снова.”

I don’t ever want to wear one of those again.

Miranda adds, “Муж, это пытки, чтобы носить бурки.”

Husband, it is a torture to wear burkas.

We continue the shopping, then Dasha sees something and practically begs, “Муж пожалуйста, купить, что для меня.”

Husband please purchase that for me.

I laugh, take the package up to the counter and end up paying and exorbitant price for the bag of cookies. Dasha says, “Я люблю шоколадное печенье.”

I love chocolate chip cookies.

Mira asks, “Могу ли я попробовать один?”

Can I try one?

I’m shocked when Dasha offers, “Да, но только один.”

Yes, but only one.

I check the time and announce, “Нам нужно найти ворота для следующего полета.”

We need to find the gate for the next flight.

We check the departure board, find the gate number and make our way to the gate. I notice two men talking so I lean over and whisper to my wives, “Эти двое мужчин русская мафия. Мы будем говорить только на фарси с этого момента.”

Those two men are Russian Mafia. We will only talk in Farsi from now on.

Finally the ticket agent calls our flight, I head up with my diplomatic passport, show it to the agents and they let me get into the early boarding line. My wives follow me, then the shit hits the fan when one of the Mafia members says to Dasha, “Почему ты с этим мусульманским дураком?”

Why are you with that Muslim fool?

Dasha shocks me when she replies, “Язык глупого бежит перед его ногами, и ты дурак.

A fool’s tongue runs before his feet and you are the fool.

I can tell he’s upset, and probably a little drunk, so I step between him and Dasha because I’m concerned he’s going to hit her. I command, “Оставьте мою жену в покое, или я буду называть безопасности.”

Leave my wife alone or I will call security.

He drunkenly laughs and taunts, “Что случилось, вы не можете заботиться о своих жен, как настоящий мужчина?”

What’s wrong that you can’t take care of your wives like a real man?

I notice that the security guards are moving in our direction so I smile at him and agitate, “Tвою мать!”

Fuck your mother!

He takes a swing at me, which I easily deflect, as security arrives and asks what’s going on. I inform them, in Farsi, “This man insulted my wife and then tried to attack me.” I show them my diplomatic passport and they take both the men into custody.

Ira commends my action, “Мой муж, вы справились, что прекрасно.”

My husband, you handled that perfectly.

We board the flight early and find our seats for the slightly longer flight to Tel Aviv. This time I can’t sleep as I’m too concerned about our entry into Israel. The time passes incredibly slowly until finally the pilot announces, “Please fasten your seat belts - we will be landing in Ben Gurion International airport in a few minutes.”

We touch down, taxi up to the jet way and begin to deplane. We are stopped in customs even with our diplomatic passports and the custom agent says, “We understand you have a diplomatic box travelling with you, we would like to examine it.”

I can’t believe it when Ira gets in his face and they begin to argue in what I can only assume is Hebrew. This continues for a short time until Ira is taken to a phone, makes a call, returns and then explains, “They were determined to open the diplomatic box until I called our Embassy. The Ambassador is coming to take care of this problem.”

I ask, “Won’t he want to open the box?”

Ira counters with a sly smile, “When he heard my name he lost any desire to open it.”

The Ambassador from Kazakhstan arrives, raises hell with the custom officials and finally we are allowed to leave with the box unopened.

Dasha remarks, “That was a close call. And when did you learn Hebrew?”

Mira counters, “We spent some time training here and learned Hebrew then. However, you are incorrect since there was zero probability they would open the box.”

Ira finds us ground transportation to Jerusalem, we load all our suitcases and the unopened diplomatic box into the taxi and begin the trip. I notice that both Mira and Ira have heightened senses. I question, “Why are you two so alert?”

Ira explains, “When you are in Israel, you learn to stay alert so that you don’t become a target of a jihadist.”

With that in mind, I also kept a close eye on things, but God must have been with us because we made it to our hotel, The Sephardic House, with no problems. Once again we settled on one room for the four of us (much to the chagrin of Dasha). They took us to the room, I opened my suitcase, pulled out the bug detector swept the room and bathroom and the scan came back clean.

Dasha looks at me, winks and says, “How about a shower?”

Mira practically explodes, “Oh no, I’m taking my shower first this time!”