My Hero

Before I got my Eilati residency card and got airfare discount I had to take the bus from Eilat to the kibbutz, or pay a small fortune. Whenever I travel by bus I feel rotten, it makes me seasick AND Israeli buses sadly have a definite arsey smell. Plus, Israelis are the loudest people on earth, making up for all those years spent wandering around in the desert without satellite connection.

They holler into their mobiles all the time and seem perfectly able and willing to not only be on the phone for the entire duration of the trip, but also to simultaneously conduct conversations w perfect strangers at the other end of the bus, who soon cease to be so bcs invariably they find some common acquaintance. This holds true for aeroplane travel as well, even more so bcs alas, no mobiles are allowed, so we must make friends even more determinedly, and stand in the aisle, and annoy the cabin crew and our fellow passangers - and why not park our buttocks, regardless of size or level of hygiene on some unsuspecting Portie’s armrest and act very outraged when she politely requests you to take your cloaca somewhere else. Must be the use of the obscure “Please” word that throws them every time.

Almost every bus trip ended in misery. The bored soldiers at the receiving end always found me highly amusing and decided to wile away their duty hours by gabbing at me, green tinge and buckling legs and all, especially after they found out what I was doing in Eilat. Once Uzi almost had to forcibly pry me from the hands of one determined soul, who wanted my email address. (This is how techno-obsessed Israelis are, not my phone number, my email) I said “I don’t know you, I’m not going to give you my email address.” “Oh but you must, I need to have it.” “Whatever for? Look, I’ve been on the road for almost 6 hours, my boyfriend is picking me up, I need to go look for him.” “Your WHAT?!” “My.Boy.Friend, oh look,” right on cue, Uzi had shown up, towering over everyone else (1,87; 6’2’’), “there he is!” *Frantic waving and desperate TIG, OVER HERE!!! shouts* The little soldier, for tiny he was (he was literally looking up at me and I’m 1,73, almost 5’8’’) was very pissed off and looked absolutely incredulous when Uzi kissed me. ON THE MOUTH, for pity's sake! But that was but a minor setback. He stared at him army-like (i.e. fierce and proud) and petulantly complained “She won’t give me her email!”

Uzi looked at him, looked at me and raised an eyebrow (you never saw it and I don’t know if I have a pic but this was the most gorgeous thing on earth, he used to do it all the time when I was mad at him - and it mostly worked) and then looked at him again. “Oh?” “Yes, ma ze! (what’s up w that)” “I’ll see if I can convince her on our way out” Uzi said, picking up my bag, grabbing my hand firmly and whisking me away. And then he told me “Pip, you can never SIMPLY arrive can you. Always making friends in high places.” And then he laughed as I kicked his shin.

I truly was crazy about him.