Hot Taxi

It seems that whenever I go to Jerusalem, I end up getting hopelessly lost, or screwed, or both. I go every few weeks from Beit Sean, to see my family in Jerusalem, so it's a running joke to them, but it's annoying, because it's around 35 shekels (10 dollars) each way 30 to the city, and five to the house, and when I get lost it of course, turns into more.

So, one day, three of us, Rebekka, Ami, and I were waiting for a bus in Beit Sean, and a taxi driver approaches us, asking us if we want to go to Jerusalem. The three of us discuss it, and we come to the conclusion that nobody would pay taxi fair all the way to the city. He overheard us, and switching to English, tells us that it's the same price, 30 Shekels, and it's faster. SO, why not?

(You're about to find out just how old this story is.) We get out of the near 40 degree weather...ok we get out of the near and into the cab. Since it was Succot, (OK, OK, I'm a little behind in these journals...) we felt it would be better not to be packed into a bus where everybody would be trying to get home. About three minutes later, we realize that this car has no AC.

So, Rebekka, being from Norway, starts screaming that she wants out. I calm her down, and guiltily, I ask her to stay, because I need somebody to talk to. She reluctantly does, but still keeps on bothering the driver. This is around ten minutes into the car. My lulav is already dead. He keeps calling his boss, pretending that the broken air conditioner is a new development, and the boss keeps telling him to leave him alone. Rebekka keeps asking the driver to let her off, and he keeps saying, "soon, soon."

Soon, soon, we were in Jerusalem. Tired and dehydrated, I take my bags and my now very wilted lulav and etrog out of the car, and pay the guy thirty shekels. Ami does the same. We're too tired to care. On the other hand, Rebekka, who knows less than 75 words in Hebrew, is arguing with the driver, saying that she won't pay him, the two of them using their second language. (Though I should point out that her English is better than most Americans I know.)

Ami and I walk away to get something to eat (or more importantly, to drink), but I can't take my eyes off this sight. Hands are flaring. Screaming all around. Seeing as how this is Israel, everybody is watching them. We watched money being paid, and the driver angrily drive off. "I'm curious, you?"

"Yeah...," so we walk over.

"So, Rebekka, what was the final score?"

"Five shekels."

"Five Shekels?!? You paid a taxi driver a dollar fifty to drive you 160 km?"

"Well, he said thirty, I said that I'd give him ten. He said thirty, I said ten. I said I'd call the police (which was a good idea, because I failed to mention this was probably an illegal taxi) so he said fine. I gave him a 100 note, and he then gave me 95 in change." What I learned from this is that in order to bargain, keep the upper hand. If you ever come to Israel, or any Americanesque country, don't be afraid, as embarrassed as you may be, to negotiate in English. The upper hand in the language can be the key.

Get me outa here!!!

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Michael Kadish

"I desire what is good. Therefore, everyone who does not agree with me is a traitor." -- King George III of England

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