Into the cab jumps Mohammed (armed with handy Glock) with a half-drunk bottle of red wine, from the lights-a-blinkin' squadcar to our trundling vehicle. He passes off his handcuffs to Rafi, the cabbie, who I'm sitting next to.
Oh, note to self: Next time in Israel, specifically Jerusalem, when wanting to acquire the front seat next to driver do not holler S-H-O-T-G-U-N into the winding and shadowy street.
So Rafi, Mohammed, Yours Truly, Beth and Sandra go to see DisneyHolyLand - the place where myth and martyrs collide. Every spot pointed out I'd inquire, being the star journalistically-minded femme you know me and love me to be, Oh yeah, really, is that true... Shrine to the BlahBlahBlah... Is THAT true, is THAT the spot.
Did some digvid shooting at the wailing wall and of some adjoining wall with weeds gently blowing against a shocking array of disarray.
So Jerusalem was left behind as we made our way back to Tel Aviv, via Peugot 505 manned by the hairiest, smelliest human known to ourkind, Asher. Having a propensity to drive in other countries (illegally, non-illegally, public transportationally like the jeepney in Philippines, etc.), and beginning to suggest to Asher the Stank that I do some driving I began to think how I'd be sitting on the same seat that he'd been sweating and farting into for who the hell knows, so I declined, realizing I'd have to fumigate my self and dispose of my outfit soon after arrival.
Speaking of arrivals, my departure out of Tel Aviv airport was an utter fiasco as security could not comprehend the very quick pitstop of a travel to their land of DisneyHolyLands. I showed them travel itinerary, explaining planular fiasco at JFK. I showed wedding favour. I showed them email from the bride. After 1.5 hours it was decided that I was not, am not, a terrorist. Bags were x-rayed, many times, shoes and camera equipment were examined for explosive residues (and it was at that moment I was so relieved I'd not shot off the Glock the previous night), this very same laptop was examined and manhandled and re-examined. Thanks to my dear little canine pal Ollie, who, once upon a time, leapt off Kennedy's sofa so vehemently that she pulled wire and laptop and nearly the lap of Yours Truly, too, several feet away, resulting in an unsightly bulge near the MacLatch. This created much consternation for Tel Aviv security. I re-enacted, with graceful and over-baked hand gestures, the moment when Ollie leapt and the man fondling this laptop (which I will be having disinfected shortly) was not moved. At all. I was, near the end of my security infringement, led off by a femme to a partitioned room and I thought This is not the metal detector test, this is the biological detector test. But nope, no derobing happened.
Upstairs, searching for Marlboro Mediums for JR and for lunch medium, spotted one of my security pals. Her unsmiling misery made me oso glad I'm not in the security racket, and glad I was leaving Israel for gai Paris.
Where I am now.
Where I must go drink more café noir.
Where I must go see a show of Francis Bacon paintings.
And shoot more digvid.
And blow smoke, it's mandatory, into the ancient streets.
And then, when that list is accompli, jet off to the Shiny Apple for more more more.

Particular Love.