Dovster

Never, ever, take a trip with my UIG (Used Italian Girlfriend). I am not telling you this out of jealousy, but simply to save your sanity. (That presumes that you have any sanity at all -- which is highly questionable if you are even considering flying anywhere with the UIG.)

In the past, there was never any question of the UIG going with me to the States. As a confirmed Euro Leftist, she has a visceral hatred of anything American (which I often suspect includes me). She has been boycotting the U.S. for years and I had every reason to believe that she would continue to do so.

Then, tragedy struck! Last summer, she told me that if Obama won the election, she would take a trip to America. As I knew that she would not go alone, I immediately sent a large donation to the McCain campaign.

Alas, I apparently did not send enough and both McCain and I were sunk. When she learned that I was going to Florida and New York in June, she informed me that she would be joining me.

She flew to Israel about a week before the flight and, on the ill-fated day, we went to TLV together. Yosithezet had posted that he would be flying at the same time and I accepted his invitation to take us both into El Al's King David Lounge.

As we left, the UIG launched into a lecture on how it was anti-social for airlines to give lounge services to some passengers and not all of them.

We got on our flight to ATL and I figured that she would at least be happy with the seats. Yes, they were in Economy, but they were exit row and bulkhead with plenty of room for us. By the time we landed, she swore she would never sit there again -- too many people had disturbed her sleep while they lined up for the lavs.

We made our connection for our FLL flight and, upon arriving, went straight to Hertz. The woman at the Gold Counter remembered me from my trip in November and immediately upgraded us. Naturally, the UIG was furious -- figuring that I must have fooled around with her during that trip. Why else, the UIG demanded to know, would she give me an upgrade at no extra charge?

When we got to the hotel room, the UIG announced that it was freezing and demanded that I turn off the air conditioner. It was not to be turned on again -- not the greatest way to be comfortable in Boca Raton in June.

The next day, she announced that we were going to the beach. It is completely unimportant that she has a house in Tel Aviv that is 5 minutes from the Med. She had never been in the Atlantic and that was that.

It didn't matter that there had been thunderstorms all night and the sky was heavily clouded -- she insisted that she was going swimming. I pulled into a parking lot, paid for three hours (which was the minimum she would agree to) and showed her to the beach. I headed, instead, to eat some chocolate cake. I barely finished when she called for me to come and get her. It really was no surprise as there was a downpour which rivaled a minor hurricane.

Naturally, this was somehow my fault, too.

After two more days of her not finding anything at all in Florida that she liked, we flew to New York. The first day was spent walking around lower Manhattan. This was okay -- except that she could not find any food that she liked, which is almost an impossibility in New York City.

The next day was really a problem. She wanted to spend it in the Guggenheim and the Museum of Modern Art. No way that I was going to go to either of these place. I could simply have enough rum and Cokes and most anything I looked at would seem just like the paintings they have there.

I did agree to take her to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which has a lot of things that don't look like they came out of a kaleidoscope, but that was my limit. She decided I was a complete barbarian when she headed to MOMA and I went to see the latest Star Trek movie instead.

The next day was spent shopping, mostly in the trendy Chelsea shops, where she went through more money than our combined airfares had cost. This, of course, left her with a new complaint -- I had not packed anything fancy enough to wear to a restaurant where her new clothes would not be over-dressy.

I solved this problem at a store near Times Square which was having a large sale on men's designer clothes. I bought a Ralph Lauren suit, a dress shirt, and silk-cotton blend vest and paid $340 for the whole thing. A good price, right? Wrong. There is no place in Israel where I will ever wear that outfit and it will probably remain in my closet until I gain enough weight so that I won't be able to fit into it.

Still, she finally had no reason to complain and we headed off to an Italian restaurant which was fancy enough to match our clothing (and which cost almost as much).

We had reservations for four nights at the Hilton Garden Inn in Tribeca (Manhattan) and two more nights at another Hilton Garden Inn near JFK. The plan was to drive out to JFK on Friday night to switch hotels, and drive back Saturday morning to meet DHammer's bus for the Brooklyn Reality Tour.

When I picked up the car from the Hertz in Tribeca, I was not given an upgrade. Somehow, this was my fault, too. I guess I should have visited New York last November and fooled around with the girl at that counter.

It was only 18 miles from one hotel to the other, but as this was 5 pm, and we were driving out of Manhattan, the trip took almost two hours. The UIG spent most of it complaining about how we were going to face the same problem on Saturday and Sunday. I tried explaining about New York rush hour (which should not have been surprising to her as she faces the same thing in both Milan and Tel Aviv) but she would not listen. She was positive we were going to spend four hours each day driving.

Okay, she liked the next two days (which included the Brooklyn Reality Tour and a return visit to Brooklyn on Sunday). On Sunday evening, we planned to fly out and she kept demanding that we not get those exit row seats again.

When we got to JFK we were told that our flight was overbooked and they were looking for volunteers to be bumped. Delta was offering $400 in Delta Dollars (not real money) for those who agreed to fly the following day. I spoke with the GA, told her I didn't care about the Delta Dollars but wanted an upgrade to Biz Elite. She told me to wait -- they needed so many volunteers that they would probably offer that before the end.

When it was announced that the price had gone up to $600 (plus hotel accommodations and food vouchers) the UIG started pressing me to agree. I still held out and eventually we received the upgrade as well.

Delta put us in the Ramada Plaza, which required us walking to the airport train, taking it to where the shuttle buses come, and then getting on a bus to the hotel. Of course, they didn't give us the vouchers until they managed to finish boarding the flight (about an hour late) and by the time we got to the hotel it was two hours after the original takeoff and the UIG was furious again.

Mostly, she was upset that she would have to go through check in and the TSA line all over again (both had been very crowded) and she barely spoke to me (except to repeat the complaints) for the next 20 hours.

When we got back to JFK, we went through the First Class check in, which was almost empty, and the TSA line for FC -- which was also very short. At that point she started complaining about how unfair it was that people who could afford to pay more had shorter waits.

We went to the Delta Crown Room Club (flying international in Biz Elite got us entry), discovered she had free internet, snacks, and drinks, and suddenly cheered up.

We waited until shortly before boarding and went to the gate. The flight was again overbooked and Delta was offering the same $600. She couldn't make up her mind of whether to take it or not. I couldn't do it because I have to take an injection 90 minutes before flying and had just used up my last one. Naturally, this gave her another reason to complain.

Fortunately, when she found that Biz Elite means seats that almost turn into beds and very good food, she calmed down -- at least until we arrived at TLV and found that we faced another traffic jam to to get to her house.