Operation: Dard and Devotion

1 | Goodbyes & Greetings

The male airline ticket agent for Royal Jordanian airlines looked at me questioningly. "Queen Alia International Airport in Amman?"

"Yes." I smiled warmly as I mentally prepared myself for an interrogation. My stomach grumbled. I hope he doesn't ask too much. I came to New York's JFK International Airport two hours ahead of my flight time so I'd be able to grab a bite to eat here, not to mope around answering people's questions.

"Miss Hayat Janaan, uh, Ishfaq," he said slowly as he took a quick peek at my passport while I looked around with embarrassment. My face in any sort of photo identification always looked ridiculous. My passport photo had been updated just a few years ago when I was still in my 'half pubescent teenager-half adult' phase. In other words, acne had scarred my olive skin, my black hair was a wild mess even though I had tried to tame the mane, and I had not put in my contacts. Basically, I resembled a stereotypical squinty librarian.

Replacing that horrid picture would take too much time and effort, especially with having to make frequent trips to the passport processing center, so I let it be. Now, the ticket agent darted his eyes from the photo to my actual presence, in a blatant attempt to ensure that it was the same person. "What is the purpose of your stay in Jordan?"

"It's an unpaid internship. I'm an Elementary Education major and we're required to do student teaching either in-state, elsewhere in the United States, or in a cooperating foreign country," I explained to him. I shifted my feet as I waited for the assistant ticket agent to double check the weight of my luggage.

"I see." He pursed his lips. "Where exactly in the country will you be staying?"

"A town near Umm Qais," I told him bluntly.

"Umm Qais?" His eyebrows shot up. "But that's near the Jordan-Syria border. You chose to go to Jordan?"

Trying to be as nice as I could, I stopped myself from a necessary eye roll. "I did."

"Were there not any other locations for you?" He asked abruptly.

"Mister Saleem," I addressed him as my eyes fell to his name tag. "Can I ask why you're asking me all this?"

"Ma'am, I don't know if you're aware, but you will be very close to where there are a number of extremist groups. Not to mention, there is still the Israeli-Palestinian conflict near Jordan's western border." He seemed flustered and I noticed his assistant muttering something about being too inquisitive. "It's not too late to cancel your tickets; I'd still be able to give you a partial refund."

The man behind me clicked his tongue with impatience and tapped his foot loudly on the tiled floor. I chewed the inside of my lip, trying to keep my cool.

"I appreciate the concern; however I am fully aware of what is going on there. The town I will be staying is literally of no interest to those extremist groups: it is an impoverished area with a small population; those mad men would not want to have anything to do with the place." I relaxed my shoulders a bit and spoke softly. "Also, my mother is from Jordan and I've never been there myself, so that was another incentive."

"Hello!" The man shrieked from behind me. "There are other people waiting in line too! How about you do your job more efficiently! Where's your supervisor? I'd like to have a word with him!"

I turned back to the Mr. Saleem, just in time to see him mutter a few things under his breath. He gave me a soft smile and handed me my passport and luggage. "I hope you have a pleasant journey and a very safe stay."

"Thank you," I smiled, giving the man behind me a smug look before I cheerfully strode off to the food court.

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