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Topics in this digest: Evacuation
Day
There is a
Jewish custom that a person can celebrate a "personal Purim" to
commemorate a day on which he or his family was saved from a disaster.
I celebrate such a day today, the 16th of February. Today is the
25th anniversary of my evacuation from Iran. It's a lot different
than my usual messages, but I thought perhaps some of you would find it
interesting.
Reb Barry
February 16,
1979
We were
staying in the Intercontinental Hotel in Tehran, waiting for the
airport to
open so our flight to civilization could get in to pick us up.
Pan Am was
one of the other contractors on our program with the Iranian air
force.
Thanks to that, and the classified nature of the work we were doing,
we were to
receive the honor of being the first official evacuation flight
to leave
Tehran. The plane, with an all volunteer crew, had been standing
by in Dubai
for several days waiting for the airport to open.
We were
awakened by a call at about 4:30 am telling us to get up, get ready,
and be down
in the lobby ready to go by 5:30--we were going home.
The scene down
in the lobby was a zoo. We were trying to sneak out without
the press
knowing, but there were members of the press corps hanging around
the lobby
around the clock, so they were able to figure out something was
going on
pretty quickly. Then the press was falling all over themselves
trying to get
a seat on our plane (I think it was a 707 and held 180
people).
Cheryl (my ex-wife), Rocky, and I were hanging around the lobby waiting to
leave.
Rocky was our cat. When Rocky first wandered into our lives, we
thought it
was a she, so we named the cat Roxanne after the princess, Roxy
for short.
A few weeks later, it became evident that "Roxy" was really a
"Rocky," so
that became his new name. Rocky had to stay in his cage for the
most part,
and wasn't happy about it. Ivan Fedder, our boss, shook his head
every time he
saw the cat--he wasn't keen on the idea of taking a jube cat
out of Iran,
but Cheryl had made a valiant plea for him, so he was willing
to let us
take him as long as the cat didn't take up a seat that could go to
a human.
It was about
6:45am before we finally pulled away from the hotel in a convoy.
In the
lead was a car load of Khomeini's Revolutionary Guards, followed by
about 4 or 5
mini-buses. We pulled out in the dark, and headed for the
airport.
The lead car was a Peykan, a British Hillman built in Iran. Sort
of like a
Toyota mid-size car, but very poorly built. The mini-buses each
seated about
a dozen people--sort of in between a full size van and a small
bus. We
drove through the deserted streets of Tehran; it was almost eerily
quiet.
We drove through commercial and residential sections, most of the
buildings 4-6
stories tall, very boring squares of concrete. Except for the
palaces,
architecture was not one of Tehran's claims to fame.
One of the
Revolutionary Guards in the lead car was riding on the trunk, on
the outside
of the car. The car hit a little dip, and his gun went off,
shooting out
the back window of the car. We started laughing uproariously
at this very
typical example of the ineptness of the Revolutionary Guards,
and then we
realized it probably wasn't a good idea to be laughing at a
possibly
angry unfriendly person with a gun.
Our luggage
had ended up on a different mini-bus than the one we were on.
When we got
to the airport, the mini-bus with our luggage was nowhere in
sight.
I found the head Revolutionary Guard, a guy named Ali, and asked
where was the
mini-bus with our luggage. He said "one of the buses is
missing?
Aww, f***!" Which struck me as amusing at the time.
A few minutes
later the missing bus pulled up. Turned out one of the female
passengers
absolutely had to go to the bathroom, RIGHT NOW, so they stopped
the bus and
let her relieve herself in a nearby alley.
The airport
had a large entry hall, and we were all in there milling around
while the
Revolutionary Guard tried to get themselves organized. Since we
were the
first flight out under the new regime, everything was new to them.
They
knew they were supposed to stamp passports, but they didn't seem to be
clear on why,
or with what, so we had to wait while they figured out the
passport
stamping routine.
Originally we
thought we were going to Turkey. It turned out they changed
plans, and
the plane was going first to Frankfurt, and then to New York. We
were asked
where we wanted to go. Some of our friends were getting off in
Frankfurt to
take a few days R&R in Europe on the way home. We were tired,
and stressed,
and said, hell with it, let's just get home, and had our
luggage
tagged for New York.
Once on the
plane, we had more delays. We were sitting on the ramp a long
time.
The Revolutionary Guard's were looking for someone, a Pakistani
employee that
they didn't want us to take with us, they wanted only
Americans on
the plane. I don't remember exactly, but I think we managed to
get the poor
guy out.
While we were
sitting at the gate, once we were all on board and situated,
one the RGs
came on board and stood at the front of the plane and gave a
little
speech: "now there is trouble in my country, and you must leave, but
soon I hope
you can come back." We were actually touched by this sentiment
and
applauded. 25 years later and we're still not going back.
Finally, we
pulled away from the gate and headed for the runway. The mood on
the plane was
a little somber; none of this had turned out the way any of us
had hoped.
Most of us liked Iran and were saddened by the turmoil and
problems.
After the
plane took off, there was only a muted applause; we were a little
nervous
because we knew there were terrorists with hand held surface to air
missiles, and
we didn't really feel safe until we had some altitude. When
the pilot
announced we had crossed into Turkish airspace, the cabin went
wild.
The flight to
Frankfurt was one big party, and the booze was on Pan Am. We
sang
"Ayatollah's coming to town" for a reporter from ABC. It goes:
Don't dial no
hookers
Don't drink no
beer
The Ayatollah
will soon be here
Ayatollah's
coming to town
He knows if
you've been drinking
He knows if
you got laid
He knows if
you're a capitalist
So be careful
what you say
At one point
Rocky was comfortably curled up on a blanket on a vacant seat.
Ivan came by
and saw it and started shaking his head.
We had such a
good time drinking and carrying on with our friends on the
flight, so we
decided to change our plans and go with Charlie Clarke and
Dave and
JoAnn Driscoll to Amsterdam. Of course, our luggage was going to
New York, but
we figured what the hell.
We got off the
plane in Frankfurt, and there were TV cameras, military and
civilian
representatives from the US Embassy, even the American Red Cross; a
great
commotion all around. I think the TV crews were expecting a group of
shell shocked
refugees from strife-torn Iran; instead they saw a bunch of
jolly drunks
rolling off the plane. We didn't want to see the Red Cross or
embassy
people; the only person we wanted to see was the company controller,
who met us
with a bag containing $1000 emergency money for each of us. We
arrived in
the midst of the worst blizzard to hit Europe in about ten years,
and all our
luggage was on it's way to New York.
As we went
through German customs, the customs agent pointed to our cat
carrier and
said "was is das? is das einer kat? do you have ze papers for
ze kat?"
Fortunately, we did--Cheryl had borrowed a chador and gone out
with our
neighbor in the middle of the Revolution to get the papers. I
thought she
was crazy.
Cheryl and I
bought some emergency clothes to hold us over for a few days in
Amsterdam.
Cheryl urgently needed to do something about her jacket; in all
the
excitement, Rocky had crapped all over it, and it was a mess. . .
We spent the
night at the Frankfurt Airport Sheraton, and the next day we
headed off to
Amsterdam for a few days of relaxation.
We had a
pleasant time in Amsterdam, eating and going to museums, despite the
horrible cold
and snowy weather. We arrived during their winter carnival.
At one point
some firecrackers went off nearby. I dove into the nearest
doorway, and
Cheryl told me "it's OK, there's no one shooting at you here."
We
laughed at my automatic response, and headed for a bar.
Our travel
adventures weren't quite over yet; as we were flying toward New
York, all the
airports on the east coast were shut down by a blizzard, and
we had to
divert to Toronto, where we spent another night at an airport
hotel before
finally reaching New York the next day.
It is a great mitzvah to serve God with
great joy, always...R. Nachman of Breslov
Rabbi Barry Leff
Beth Tikvah Congregation
9711 Geal Road
Richmond, BC V7E 1R4
phone: (604) 271-6262
fax: (604) 271-6270
web: www.btikvah.ca
email: rebbarry@yeladim.org
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