The Requisite Israeli Meltdown

At some point in a trip to Israel, one reaches one's breaking point: this is a culture without proper boundaries, basic etiquette and personal space. You must expect to spend your time in public being pushed, stepped on, cut in front of, spoken to curtly and rudely, beeped at. Wherever you turn there's yelling, gesturing. Arguments here, arguments there. Israelis are either completely unphased by all this or they are in chronic internal psychological turmoil - it's hard to tell. Who needs Arabs? Just living daily life in this city is war.

So - one day you're tired, your blood sugar's low, and some unlucky Israeli pushes at the wrong time. BLAM! It's American gone ballistic time!

In my case, the chosen Israeli was an older Orthodox gentleman who was behind me at the vegetarian buffet restaurant by downtown Zion Square. I was very tired and my blood sugar was at negative 10 and I had just finished navigating through the Alley of Hell (okay - that's my own personal name for it, but what else do you call the endlessly long, oppressively narrow street through the Old City where both Arabs and Israelis get in your face hawking their wares throughout the entire 10 minutes it takes to get out the other end?).

I was trying to figure out how to get the dish I wanted at the buffet line, cognizant of the fact that a line of Israelis was behind me and would probably trample me for taking 10 more seconds than necessary. At that point, the man next to me, trying to get to the salad he wanted to serve himself, bumped my tray down with his tray. "Big deal," I hear you think. Well- you spend several days being bumped, shoved and stepped on and let's see how long it takes before you blow your top. In my case: 4 days before MTT (major temper tantrum)
I gave him the angry look of death and whipped my tray out of the line, grazing him in the process.
How well did that go over?

Gentleman: "Is this your daughter? God forbid she should end up looking like you and acting like you -- like a beast. You should be ashamed . . . . . . . blablabla.. . "
Me (blood pressure about 200/150): I have spent this whole week being shoved and pushed by Israelis and I am sick of it!!!
Gentleman: "Well, go. Leave immediately. We don't want you here."
Me: "I'm out of here."
Huffily exit me and Rosa (who is only marginally aware of what is going on), stage right.
Curtain down.

If you ask Israelis about their culture, they say: "We are open with our feelings. We are real, genuine. Americans are repressed and stuff down all their feelings."

If so, I'm happy to live in the land of stuffing.