Jubilee

I have not been to that many parties in my life. I would certainly never say that any of the ones that I've been to would ever be considered "wild." Awkward is generally a much better word. I've been to parties that other people have considered to be wild, but I must have been temporarily been thrown into some parallel universe, or maybe they were with some girl in a closet at the time, because I can't see how they could describe these parties as wild.

That said, when Israel turned fifty, the party in the streets were wild. I was not alive for the bicentennial; so I can't compare. I am aware that in the papers here, it said that Israelis were not so festive, they were to cautious to be exuberant. I don't exactly know where the columnist was spending his time, but it certainly was not on Ben Yehuda Street. If they were to have been more exuberant, they would have been running down the streets naked.

Short of that, music was blaring from the dozens of bars and dozens of clubs in the area. Dancing in the street, Anglos and arsim ganging up together to silly string or fake snow every inch of the ground and every party goer, broken bottles and empty fake snow and silly string cans practically carpeted the street. There was lights, music, puking in the streets, drinking, smoking of all sorts, idiots gambling in front of cops, everything you could possibly expect or want, with almost nobody approaching middle age.

Now, I'm not a big party guy. I downed three or four...but, we got their at eleven thirtyish, and the first bus back to the kibbutz was at six thirty. "Michael, where'd you sleep?" What? "Where did you sleep?" Sleep...right, let me see what that word means. I had nowhere to go. I walked the streets till morning. The novelty wears off when morons are continuously spraying you in the eyes or ears with fake snow and silly string.

The people in the group had other impressions. I don't think they even drank that much, but still, they were in full party mode, dancing, screaming, mingling, etc., while after about an hour or so, I got bored. I realized something here that had been creeping up in the back of my mind for quite a while. I was not one of these people.

I mean, I liked them all, they were nice guys, all of them. And I hate to quit things. I almost failed school because I didn't want to quit the classes I was in. I may not have a positive, outlook on it but I'll stick with it. But at the same time, amidst the broken beer bottles, and the discarded empty aerosol cans, and the regurgitated food, and the other partygoers, at an hour that most people stop calling "out late," and generally refer to it as a time that is "too early to wake up at," I realized how stupid the whole thing was.

Here I am, on a kibbutz, granted, with a group I like, but doing a job that was monotonous and silly as I ever had, and bored in the process. The others also found their jobs boring, and so every week we had a little party with music and drinking to liven ourselves up on the kibbutz. But, like I said, the novelty wears off for me. I was still annoyed at the time we had been given, or more to the point, had not been given, in Yeshiva. I only had about six weeks left, before I would fly back home, (or so I thought,) so, why not just go and actually get some learning done. Really. It was ridiculous. I was accomplishing nothing. I had already made the friendship as strong as they'd be, why did I feel that I had to stay?

Because I hate to quit.

But I quit.

And boy, did it hurt. For the rest of my life now, I have to look back and realize that I chose to go learn, rather than spend six more weeks in Ibiza partying. Am I really that big a nerd? Yes. Duh. You can make it sound better by saying that I was sensible, that I wanted the best out of the time, that I had a thirst for knowledge, or you can stuff it, and stop the spin doctoring, and realize that I permanently branded myself as a wet blanket. Nobody, of course pointed this out to me, but it's the main thing. Why did I leave Hachshara? Because I'm a nerd. Oh, ok, all right then. I've said it before, but hurts when you have the actual evidence in front of you.

Get me outa here!!!

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Take me back to the list

---

Michael Kadish

"When anyone is held up, he shall immediately telephone the details to a telephone operator. She will plug in every phone in the city and relate the details of the holdup. Near every telephone is to be a shotgun, hanging on the wall. When the story of the holdup is spread through the phones every citizen will seize his shotgun, and rush to the street. All whistles will blow, and at this signal all traffic, including pedestrians, will halt. Anyone besides law officers who moves will be shot." -- George W. Durham, proposition to stop crime in Kansas City

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