Arriving from Tel Aviv to Newark before the crack of dawn Sunday at 4:30 a.m., going through immigrations and customs, nothing could not have prepared me for what I encountered when I transfered to the Continental Terminal to make my connecting flight back to the South. A sea of people in lines as far as the eye could see waiting for 3-4 hours just to get to the check-in counter for a boarding pass.
The woman in front of me in the line, had been trying to get out of New York with her family, since 5 am Friday, two days earlier---for 48 hours. Note to self: if possible, don't ever fly through a terminal where snow storms can shut it down during winter months and stack people and planes up for days.
After flying back with almost no sleep, all I really wanted to do was lie down on the floor and sleep or die, rather than go through such unmitigated pandemonium.
Still, it's always an ineffable thrill and a privilege to walk off the plane, under the big, big sign of which there is nothing else comparable in the whole wide world: Welcome to the United States of America.
God bless and save our country for future generations. Including all of us poor wretches standing in line for hours at Newark, Continenetal Terminal C.