Episode 11: "The Hot Spot" (+)

This one's a long one, folks. Pull out the popcorn.

Last weekend I hit the hot spot of Israel, Tel Aviv. It's a port city on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea known for its beach-side beauty and its happening night life. Everyone goes there to club it up on weekends or to check out bars with friends. This was my first time there, though, and I was curious to see exactly what all the hype was about.

In the morning I took a cab with Roni, Brian (my roommates) and Stef, our friend, from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. The girls wanted to go shopping, so Brian and I split off from them and found an art fair to check out. Along a path of stores and restaurants were booths of people selling trinkets, jewelry, decorations, etc.--everything handmade. You're thinking, "here's the part where Eric says everything was beautiful."

Can't help it.

I kept thinking of Mom the whole time. At almost every single booth, I thought there would be something she would enjoy having in our house. The color, creativity and cozy feeling of "home" I got from seeing all that homemade merchandise really made think of her--how she could make our place warmer with pretty much any of it.

I circled around the fair for hours. Brian and I ate a hearty meal at a cafe there, I met up with a friend named Ariel I'd met on the Tzfat trip, and I never really got bored at all. Even after seeing some booths two or three times, the novelty of the fair never wore off. While I was there I ended up calling my friend Nick for his birthday, so that ended up being more icing on the cake. Toward mid-afternoon, I parted with Ariel, slowly reunited with the original crew, and we made our way toward the beach.

The water was not only incredible to look at, but at a perfect temperature, too. Warm enough to walk into without wincing, but still unmistakably refreshing. Israel doesn't know when to quit being breathtaking.



After spending a couple hours on the beach, the four of us walked through Tel Aviv until we found a restaurant. Val, the guy I rode a camel with, met up with us there. I shamelessly asked the waiter/bartender guy for a cheeseburger, hold the veggies, with nothing but ketchup. Yes, I went McDonald's all over that restaurant, and I loved every bite of it.

Once we were done with dinner, we checked in at the Gordon Inn Hostel and went out again to the Port District, or whatever it's called--the spot where all the serious clubbing and drinking happens. After we got some fantabulous ice cream, we tried to do up the clubs. Problem being: the clubs we tried to get into were pretty exclusive. The first one we tried was 25 and up. I wish I could think about the next part of this outing without cringing a little bit.

We happened upon a club that sounded pretty bumping from the outside. There was a packed group of people waiting to get in, a bouncer waiting outside the door, and a woman selecting people from line to come in. Val said something pretty early on about not being pressed to go to this club, but I was a little excited to try something new. I'd already been out to my first dance bars in Israel, but never an official club, and the idea of getting into one with a line and a bouncer had a kick of "celebrity" to it that I found kind of attractive.

After twenty minutes my excitement began to fade. I had assumed that the woman selecting people to come in was choosing people that had exclusive guest passes, but it was becoming clear that nothing that official was going on. The people in line were begging her. Once they got her attention, she selected them based on any number of things--maybe the gender ratio inside, maybe how fashionable the person was, maybe even the fact that she knew some of the people in line--but I was starting to realize that whatever it was, I didn't have it. I told Val if he wanted to go, I was okay with leaving. All the while I was actually moving closer, though. I guess I thought I'd get in because I'd made it to the front entrance by simply waiting my turn. I wasn't willing to demean myself my begging the woman to let me in, but patience had gotten me to the front, and I had faith that that would see this through.

The bouncer was told to let another batch of people inside. I was standing on the threshold of the entrance, but not directly in the middle of it or in their way. Guess the bouncer didn't see it that way. He put his hand on my chest and pushed me lightly, but firmly, out of the way of the entrance, saying "Excuse me" in Hebrew. Then he asked me in English, "Do you understand Hebrew?" The people he made room for walked past me, into the club. About a minute later, Val gave me a "Let's go" and I went with him. The silly part is, even after the bouncer had put his hand on me, there was a part of me that still wanted in after all the waiting I'd done. But I left with Val, and my mood began to take a free fall. Here's why:

1) You all know I'm not a tough guy, but there are sparks of alpha dog in me that can sizzle when the right button is pushed. And the bouncer had pushed it. He'd put his hand on me unprovoked as far as I was concerned, and the testosterone in me was flickering something fierce. After the fact, of course. I was already walking away. The moment was gone, and really, what would I have done anyway?

2) The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I had waited patiently, without complaining or shoving my way to the front, and not only had this woman completely ignored me, but this bouncer had no problem shuffling me aside for people deemed more worthy of getting in. My basic sensibilities of "far and unfair" had been violated.

3) I didn't get to dance. I had really been looking forward to it.

4) There's something about being excluded that just hurts your feelings.

The five of us all regrouped later to go home. When Stef asked me whether I'd had fun tonight, I pretty much didn't answer her. I was in a foul mood and didn't know what to do with my anger. And on top of that I was afraid I had come off as rude to Stef and temperamental to all four of them. It was just a mess; I'd let this one guy's disrespectful--but certainly not personal--actions ruin my entire night. I tried my best to engage with my friends on our walk home, but it was a struggle. I apologized to Stef and Roni about if I'd come off as rude, and they were cool about it.

I still woke up the next morning feeling extremely ashamed of my behavior. I was disappointed with how I'd handled the situation, given what I expect from myself according to my faith.

The hostel expenses covered a free breakfast at a beach-side restaurant, so we went first thing. We had some decent food, got out on the surf and chilled. I got in the water a couple of times, refreshed myself among its perfect waves, read some of the Bible on the sand and caught the sunshine glinting off its golden-edged pages. All this beauty and the one thing that defined my weekend was a non-altercation with a bouncer. That kind of thing happens all the time at clubs, and I let my first time put a blemish on experiencing Tel Aviv.

Lesson learned, I hope.

Shalom,
Eric