Terrorist

Warning--You will not be the first one to insult this piece.

Well, it was inevitable.

First, I should say the wedding was beautiful. Rinat looked amazing, the food was great, and everybody seems to be in a great mood. Everybody actually seemed appreciative of my presence, which made me a bit uneasy, but that was ok. The hard part was getting back. We were told to come back before 10:00 AM Sunday. According to Steve, that translated as noonish. With the Germanic time rules of the kibbutz, I didn�t really agree, but whatever, I really didn�t feel like complaining.

I took the 7:30 bus to �� . [Beit Shan] (What, you thought I�d leave �� [Yerushalayim] around ten? Please, I�m not that bad.) After half sleeping through news reports of a crashed princess while experiencing a slow bus ride I arrived around 10:30 in �� . [Beit Shan] (That�s my story, and I�m sticking to it.) I had no CLUE how to get to �� [Kibbutz Sde Elijahu] from there, though. I ask the bus drivers, "�� ?" {Telech leHakibutzim, po?} [Are you to to the kibbutzes from here?] I get cussed out. I asked the taxi drivers, same result. I finally got a ride from a taxi driver, around 1:30. Along the way, he tells me the fare�ll be twenty shekels. Fine. I open my wallet when I get there, and discover that I only have hundreds. He gets PISSED.

"�� ? �� !" {Atah lo hayita yachol lehagid li al ze, liphnay achshav?} [You couldn�t have told me about this beforehand?] I was going to point out that it wouldn�t have made a difference when I told him, but A) I was tired, B) I couldn�t think of the right words, and C) I was scared. He angrily goes into his wallet, and takes out a fifty, and two ten shekel coins. I wasn�t ready to point out that he was screwing me, but I just wish that there hadn�t been a twenty shekel bill on his dashboard, ready to allow me correct change.

The climax of my three-hour-plus wait in this excursion was at the peak of my fears. It was hot, I was tired, my bag was heavy, and I was getting scared. I went to make a phone call. My bag was incredibly heavy, so I put it down, and went to make a call. When I returned from my unsuccessful attempt of reaching somebody, a late middle aged man, asks me why I left my bag unattended. " ��, �� , �� , �� ...." {Oy, ani ayef, zeh zeh meod cham, hatik sheli meod kaved...} [Oy, look, I�m tired, it�s hot out, this bag is heavy...] He keeps bugging me about it, waving and flailing his arms, attracting attention.

I still think it isn�t that bad an idea. If I took the laptop to the phone booth, I could have been robbed. But, if I were to have left a bag in street it would have been untouched. In any other country, people would have taken the bag, but here, people are afraid to touch them. Not a bad idea.

Anyway, I walk away, and he starts screaming to people and pointing at me. Eventually, the police came. He starts talking to them and pointing at me, and I hear, "��, �� !" {ken, aval zeh beyado, achashav!} [Yes, but he�s holding it now!] Good, the cops could figure out it wasn�t a bomb.

It was a bad day. I wanted to wake up the next morning, and find out the day never happened, and that Princess Di was still alive.

But, it was real, and I had been called a terrorist.
Well, it was inevitable. GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

Get me outa here!!!

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Michael Kadish
"�You can make yourself sound much more intelligent by only using the last name, for example: 'Hey, what are you reading there?' 'Seuss.'� -- Kadish (not his exact words or anywhere close. But i think i got the idea.)" -Eric Kow
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