Here We Go!

So.  We set off for our flight to Amsterdam, excited for the 9 hour layover (before heading to Tel Aviv) and seat upgrade we had paid for to ensure we sat next to each other.  Within the first 3 minutes of our check-in process a little sparkly thing was held out in front us: vouchers.  Mmm, vouchers.  Yes, please.  Oh, they come with Business Class upgrade? Guaranteed to sit next to each other?  Fly to Paris? Mais, oui! We'll take two.  Next thing we know, we are "chosen" (special, unique, desired--all good words) and off we race to a new gate for our frugal, yet posh exchange.  The Paris flight is already boarding.  They tell us we are not sitting together.  There is no upgrade.  They laugh in our faces.  I burst into tears in their faces.  Beau tries to explain, with the least amount of insanity, that I have Transportation Anxiety, yes, it's a real thing, sure, she has medication, but...we're very upset, can she sit next to me in any possible way?
I moved over to the vacant sitting area and started to have trouble breathing.  I called Kerith because everyone knows it is not scary at all to receive a phone call from someone who is hyper-ventilating and crying.  Kerith calmly said all the right things "you'll be fine, there are movies! you get out of your seat and walk around!  it will all work out!"  Every once in a while she said "just keep breathing".  I said nothing, but wheezed in her ear "IT WILL NOT WORK OUT BECAUSE I HAVE DECIDED I AM TRAUMATIZED."
We boarded the plane and a nice young girl sitting next to Beau switched seats with me and after about five minutes of Modern Family I was sound asleep.  Like an infant, I awoke to eat and go to the bathroom and occasionally smile at Beau.
We landed in Paris and decided against venturing out into the city for a quickie visit.  I was very excited to, but Beau kept saying things like "it sounds stressful, maybe we should just relax, I want to lie down" and so we did that.  I fell asleep again and then we went and got something to eat.  Beau picked up a few espressos and I randomly had a french manicure and then Au Revoir, Paris.  (Quick shout-out to my jr high French teacher, as my french served me well and only once did I say "I want to go to the right" instead of "You're hurting my nail".  We landed in Tel Aviv only to discover that our bags had transportation anxiety, too, as they had never left Detroit.
We get a cab and I try to use all my Hebrew words to try to connect with him.  So at various points in the conversation did I try to say my numbers in Hebrew ("in English please, madame") and worked in L'Chaim, Elohim, Shabbot, Emunah, and Shalom.  Beau looked at me with a face "what are you doing?" and I responded by saying shalom one more time.
We got into our apartment on the Kibbutz at about 3:30 in the morning.  Our place is awesome and bigger and nicer than we had thought.  Reception apologized because they thought we were brother and sister and so had arranged for twin beds.  Beau seemed very quick to say it was absolutely fine (surely, I had not exhausted him) and we got into bed thanking God for everything, especially the 2 TVs  in our apartment (a TV in the bedroom as well as living room! how fancy!).   Beau put on the Cosby Show and we fell asleep to the sound of Mr. Huxtable telling the girls they could not ride the subway at night, and there it was: We had traveled to Israel.  L'Chaim.