A Classic Tel Aviv Moment
So it's started to rain, and when I say rain I mean it's bucketing down, there's a good few centimetres of water on the ground, which is not surprising as the very scarcity of rain in this city means that they don't believe in drainage, and I remember that our car door is slightly ajar after the minor accident my bride-to-be had with a sideswiping car this morning.So I rush downstairs with my Clayton Utz umbrella (still the only positive outcome from that job, other than a few interesting people, to be fair) in one hand and an almost used roll of Cling-Wrap in the other, intent on covering over the gap in the car door and preventing any further flooding of what is probably an already flooded driver's side floor.
And I get down there and out into the rain, cradling the umbrella between my shoulder and my neck, crouching on the road trying to get Cling-Wrap coverage all the way to the bottom, since it's just as likely that the water will get so high on the ground that it will come in from the bottom, when I see a pair of headlights heading down the street in my direction.
I move a little bit closer to the car on my haunches, expecting that the car will want to pass and the driver may not even be able to see me given the rain and the darkness, and all I need right now is to be run over, but he does. As it approaches, the car slows down.
The passenger's side electric window rolls down. I'm thinking, does this guy think I'm trying to steal this car? Does he think I'm insane, trying to wrap a driver's side door like a sandwich? Will he, perish the thought, offer to help? Or ask if I need some cover out of the rain? His eyes meet mine through the passenger-side window.
"Are you going out?" I shake my head. He'll have to keep going until he can find another parking spot. Poor guy. You've got to love this city.
posted by Daniel @ 3:47 PM
2 Comments:
Hehehe, sounds pretty Israeli to me! (As does running towards an explosion in order to assist, so there seems to be a curious conflict of stereotypes here!)
I had a Rabbi once in my first yeshiva who put his car in the Israeli equivalent of the Trading Post. He had to take his phone off the hook because he was receiving phone calls (more than one!) at three o'clock in the morning from people who simply "wanted to be the first".
An Israeli told me a story that he was once stuck in a traffic jam. All of a sudden, a red Volkswagen behind him swerved out into the breakdown shoulder, and started overtaking all the cars.
"Eize chutzpa!" said the Israeli to himself. "People here drive like maniacs!" And he continued to wait in the traffic jam.
Fifteen minutes later (after he'd moved maybe twenty metres), he saw the red Volkswagen coming back towards him on the other side of the road, do a U-turn, and pull back in behind him. He wound down his window.
"Nu? What are you doing?"
The guy in the red Volkswagen wound down his window.
"I'm a doctor", said the man. "There was a car accident up ahead, and I went to check if they needed any help." And then he came back to wait in line.
"So you see", the Israeli says to me, "whenever you see an Israeli driving like a maniac, just think that it might be a similar situation to this one."
I said that I didn't believe him. If the guy in the red Volkswagen really did come back to wait in line, there is no way that the other cars would have let him in.
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