The all-white, unmarked, Air Egypt Airbus-330-300 flying from Tel Aviv was turning and descending over Cairo, October 1st, 1994, and I was in the cockpit. Don’t worry, I wasn’t flying the plane, but neither was anyone else! We had just flown over the Sahara Desert when I was told that the Air Egypt captain wanted to speak with me. As I entered the cockpit, I could see the Mohammad Ali Mosque directly ahead and then passing beneath us. There were four uniformed “pilots” sitting at the console, turned completely around facing me while we talked. No one was at the controls, in fact, when I looked closer, there was no “stick” or wheel! When I mentioned this, they pointed to two small, short joysticks, at either end of the control panel. The whole thing looked like a video game. Two of the pilots folded their arms as they talked to me. The other two were sipping tea. Again, we were going headlong at over 300 mph as Cairo slipped beneath us. The reason they wanted to talk with me was that another Air Egypt Airbus-A330-300 was being held for us on the tarmac waiting to take off for Luxor. My instructions were to stand up and bring my group into the galley while the plane was taxiing, in order for us to get off before the 250-plus Orthodox Greek passengers behind us realized that we had been “prioritized” ahead of them.
As the plane stopped, the cabin door opened and I met Babu, our Egyptian tour guide. He said simply, “I’m Babu, your tour guide. Can you run?” I turned to our group, who unanimously said, “Yes!' And so we ran down the hot Cairo tarmac to another Air Egypt Airbus-A330-300, waiting for us with the engines running. This one had Air Egypt logos and standard aircraft markings. Egyptian customs agents at the base of the stairs rapidly stamped our passports and the Air Egypt ground crew ushered us up the stairs and quickly onto the plane. I still don’t know how our luggage managed to keep up with us. We counted noses and were all 15 on board. In a few minutes, we were in the air to Luxor for a spectacular two-day tour of Karnak and the Valley of the Kings.
On the evening of October 5, 1994, we were to fly back to Tel Aviv on an unmarked El Al Boeing 737. That day is a national holiday, celebrating the 6-day war in 1967, a humiliation for the Arab world, that is painted up as a major victory in Egypt. Flags and banners and armed men in uniform were everywhere. Babu explained this delicate problem to us and asked us not to comment openly until we were back in Tel Aviv. At Cairo airport, he gathered our passports and returned. The impeccable and calm Babu returned with a red face and huge sweaty marks under his arms on his light blue shirt. The Cairo customs agent wasn’t letting MK board the unmarked El Al plane, waiting on the tarmac, scheduled for imminent takeoff. MK’s passport somehow was not stamped as having entered Egypt. Margaret stepped up and showed them where her passport had two Egyptian stamps and opined that one of them was MK’s, placed there in our rush to go through customs on the way to get on the waiting plane to Luxor. Suddenly it was a standoff, 14 of us refusing to board without MK and an increasingly alarmed and stubborn customs agent refusing to let her board. DD, MK’s sister, refused to board and told the agents, “Not without my sister!” Babu took our passports and told us all to wait in the boarding area and disappeared. What?! For the longest ten minutes of my life, we were surrounded by increasingly demanding, nervous Egyptian customs and airport agents who had an El Al jet waiting on their tarmac the evening of the anniversary of the victory over Isreal 6-day war. I am fairly certain that Babu was more practiced in bribery than we were. He returned with a stamped passport for MK. Babu was still sweating as we all boarded after exchanging grateful goodbyes and smiles. An adventure is a mess you get out of. A disaster is a mess that you cannot get out of. I have had both.
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