Here is how we got to Istanbul

Monday, December 26.

We left our humble abode in Goshen for the Big Apple, and we spent the morning looking at the diamonds in the diamond district, admiring Rockefeller Center's Christmas tree, and eating enormous pastrami sandwiches. At 3 we returned to our car, parked right across from Penn Station, and retrieved our luggage-Fatema headed to Newark and off to Minnesota for a much-deserved vacation. And Lisa and I navigated through Penn Station to the metro to JFK, Turkey-bound.

It sounds easy-get on the metro, go to JFK, get on a plane. But it's not so easy. It's: buy ticket for metro, find correct metro, get off at correct stop, get on another train to the airport, realize that you don't know which terminal you are supposed to be at, get off at the correct terminal, get boarding pass, wait in THE LONGEST LINE IN ALL OF NEW YORK to go through carry on security, find a spot on the floor next to your gate because it is SO crowded that there are no seats left and the air temperature has reached a suffocating level. Then board flight. Fly to Heathrow. At Heathrow, which is the most absurd airport in the world, walk about thirty-five miles to your connecting flight. Lisa and I stood in front of the flight connections directory and found the British Airways information: UK/Ireland: Terminal 2. Other European Destinations: Terminal 3. Intercontinental flights: Terminal 4. Hmmm...Istanbul. Is Istanbul European? Or Intercontinental? We stood there scratching our chins staring at the directory. Welllll, it's probably European, right? No, no, it's intercontinental. Right? It's not *technically* a part of Europe. Right? We boarded the (stuffy, crowded) bus to Terminal 4.

Wrong. According to British Airways, Istanbul is a European destination. This, I think, should settle the debate once and for all.

So we got back on the (stuffy, crowded) bus and went to Terminal 3, which was the correct terminal. And there we sat in a Euro cafe next to a big window and bought a latte and a croissant and some toast and looked like the bedraggled travellers we were. And then, after being adequately fueled and armed with new camera batteries, we walked another thirty-five miles to our gate.