Not in Kansas anymore.

I first knew I wasn't in Kansas (PA) anymore when I got to the terminal on my way to Israel. I had said goodbye to my parents, and walked through security a little ways back and was looking around for my terminal. It should have been #17 but where it was supposed to be there was just a wall. Suddenly it felt a little like I was Harry Potter at Kings Crossing station looking for #9 3/4 on my way to Hogwarts. Was I supposed to run at the wall with my backpack, and trust fate (and if so where was my owl)??

Eventually I figured it out by following the Jews, and yes I could tell they were Jewish by how they looked. (Its just a Jewish thing) So I followed them to the side of the wall where there was another security check hidden. A little scary, but I figured it was just extra safety precautions right? ...Sure.

Well I got into the waiting area and tried to sit down to read, but my book couldn't hold a candle to the people. Even after living in New York for two years this was the most Jews I had seen in one place, and all different types. Women with their hair covered, skirts down to their ankles and adorable babies cooing at you, young men with baggy clothing and yamakas, young girls with airy black skirts under their knees and tight shirts that showed their shapes but covered them from elbow to shoulder. It felt like I was at a family gathering with just a few too many of the extended family to be really comfortable, and when a Minion of boys and men formed up praying in the center all I could do was sit back and watch.

I hadn't even left US soil and already I felt like I was in Israel.