By: Marcia Abramson
On my last flight to Istanbul, the plane was just about full with just a few middle seats available. I had booked my seat in advance and got an aisle seat, which I prefer, though pretty far back in the plane. The check-in lines were long, but a knowledgeable porter showed me the way to Delta's Business Elite check-in where there were no lines. The usual questions were asked as to who packed my bags, were they with me at all times. A white gloved hand searched through my carry-on, a perfunctory body search, a walk through a magnetometer and I was through security and waiting patiently for about two and a half hours for my flight to board.
When I got on the plane I found that my seat 41C was occupied by a clean-cut, casually dressed young man. He told me that this was his seat. When I showed him my boarding pass, he looked at his and found that he had been assigned seat 42C, the last row on the plane.
Nevertheless, he said that he had to sit in that seat and that I should take 42C. I politely declined and asked him to move. He, then quietly reached into his pocket and flashed a shiny brass badge at me. An older gentlemen was seated in the other end seat with a clean-shaven olive complected man sitting in the middle seat. He explained that he and the other man had to sit in these aisle seats because they were escorting the man in the middle, who was legitimately assigned to seat 41D, out of the country.
I learned that they were from the Immigration and Naturalization Service of the US government and that they were doing a lot of flying after September 11th, returning illegal aliens to their own countries. I reluctantly gave up my claim to seat 41C because I was not prepared to wage war with badge carrying INS men. However, I was not happy with seat 42C because it was very rigid and seemed to be digging into my spine making the thought of a 10-hour flight in that seat to Turkey unbearable. The flight attendant was summoned by me. She understood my problem because she had sat in that seat herself on one flight, and knew how bad it was. A promise was given to me that she would try to find me a better seat and somehow she produced another aisle seat toward the front of the plane. I also learned from her that there has not been a flight to Turkey and other Middle Eastern countries without a contingent of INS men escorting deportees out of this country. She assured me that the deportees, who were not manacled, were not dangerous, but had merely overstayed their visas.
My advice to travelers on Delta planes with the two seat configurations on each side and three seats in the center: Avoid seats 42C and E in the very last row. The lavatories back seats 42A, B, F and G. But they might not be as uncomfortable as C and E.
Upon deplaning, the INS men thanked me for my cooperation. I arrived in Istanbul one weary traveler, but with a very interesting story to tell my friends as we were escorted to the deluxe Swissotel in Istanbul for an overnight stay in Istanbul before boarding the ultra luxurious Silversea Whisper cruise ship for a 12-day Adriatic Cruise from Istanbul to Genoa, Italy. I also chose to spend the morning and early afternoon re-exploring Istanbul and its wonderful shopping opportunities at the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market. The International Travel Services (ITS) arranged for some interesting tours with the Ottoman Treasures taking in the wondrous Suleymaniye Mosque, the Topkapi Palace & Harem ending at the Spice Market or the Grand Bazaar.
Taxis are metered and very plentiful throughout the city and easy to hail. Don't be frightened when the meter reads 625,000 Turkish Liras (TL). That is only 35 cents. The rate of exchange for $1 U.S. a few weeks ago was $1,450,000 TL. I did stop to see some world renowned Turkish silk rugs and of course was served the delicious Turkish apple tea by a beautifully costumed young woman. My stay in Istanbul was too brief, but fortunately I have been there many times before this trip to see the wonders of a country spanning two continents, Europe and Asia.
