The lights were off; the engines whirled loudly enough to silence the plane; and though I lay back comfortably in my free business class seat, I could not sleep. The shock of being on a Nefesh B’Nefesh aliyah flight as press had not yet worn off, and out of curiosity as well as a bit of restlessness, I grabbed my note pad and took a look around. Most people were asleep with their mouths open, others watched movies on little seat-mounted screens drowning out the engine sounds with snugly fit earbuds. The Serota family sat towards the back of the plane, mostly asleep except for one bleary-eyed son watching over his family (and a movie). One girl read. Some people, like me, paced up and down the aisles to stretch their legs and make small talk. Only a few hours earlier the cabin had buzzed with excitement.

            People walked down crowded aisles holding their tickets in front of them like roadmaps. Strangers helped strangers stuff carry-on bags into crowded overhead compartments. New acquaintances yapped hurriedly about futures, destinations, hopes, and fears. Josh Polsky told me excitedly about his plans to open a Barbeque restaurant as soon as he could. Everyone rushed as though there would not be enough time to meet and talk to everyone before the flight arrived. Seatbelt signs flashed and chimed and people allowed themselves to be seated for what would only be a short while. Everyone talked loudly to their neighbor through takeoff, only pausing to clap as a group, as though they planned it telepathically, when the plane lifted off the ground and started out on its journey to Israel.

            But then the lights in the cabin went dark; windows, like eyelids, were closed. It was as if the cabin went to sleep, and caught unaware.

            I made my way to the front of the plane, past the curtains that separate class from class, cabin from cabin and it was like walking from night to day. The Nefesh B’Nefesh staff area was alive with work. While the olim slept, the staff fed old American passports into portable passport control machines, and double-checked the brand new Israeli identifications. Avi Levine (Director of Creative Services) explained that due to the cooperation between the Israeli government and Nefesh B’Nefesh, they could take care of all the customs paperwork right there on the plane. The olim would take off as American citizens and land as Israeli citizens.

            As I stepped back into the main cabin, I saw a few dim lights amongst the rows of seats: television screens, iPods, and reading lights glowed on faces of people passing time. I too, stopped taking notes and let myself be caught in the moment and fall asleep to pass the time.

I opened my eyes and saw people testing their windows, lifting the plastic lids to see outside while trying not to disturb their still sleeping neighbors. More lights were on, faces were clearer. Men donned phylacteries and prayers shawls in their seats and swayed with the waking rhythm of the plane. Flight attendants came down the aisles with breakfast and wet-napkins while the cabin lights slowly lit up the plane. All window shades were thrust open to let in the morning and we were told to anticipate the landing.

            The voices grew louder and louder as the plane flew lower and lower as if to compensate. The Mediterranean outside the window turned into the coat of Tel Aviv. It was no longer a dream to many of these people but a reality, after months for some and years for others, they were finally arriving. The tension jumped from person to person. One lady took out a harp and started playing Hatikva, others plugged in headphones to listen to prearranged playlists just for this occasion. Everyone smiled, laughed, and anticipated. It was as though many people never felt the wheels touchdown and the plane bounce down the runway. A light echo of applauds came from the forward cabin where the Nefesh B’Nefesh staff still worked, but many of the olim were silent with shock.

            The doors opened to let in crisp Israeli air and we were asked to descend onto the tarmac where shuttles would take us to the old El-Al terminal.