It's 2:10 am and I am wide awake. I can't even imagine going to sleep anytime soon. I guess that's what I get for sleeping most of today away. I really need to do something about my sleeping schedule if I'm ever going to acclimate to this time zone!
Tonight was pretty busy. I grabbed a hot shower after Shabbos and then packed up my stuff to hit the laundromat. I put on my scrubs and one of my favorite "I'm doing laundry right now and have nothing else that's clean" t-shirts and made my way up the block. I wasn't the only one doing laundry tonight. Sitting in one of the chairs, watching his stark white laundry toss and turn in the dryer, was a very sad Israeli. He asked me how I was doing, and I responded politely. I had brought my iPod and notebook with me and was hoping to listen to some Strokes tunes and work on my Maya short story for class, but the Israeli wanted to chat. Figuring it was a good way for me to work on my Hebrew, I loaded the washer, took out my notebook and pen and sat across from him. I never got his name, and we were making idle chit chat, when he said: "At Bachura Yaffa" which means "you're a pretty girl" and I thanked him for the compliment. And then he asked me if I had a boyfriend, to which I replied that I had one back in the States. (Sidenote, but since I keep using this US boyfriend as an excuse I should really come up with a story about who he is, what he does, what he looks like, etc. Anyone who wants to weigh in on my pretend boyfriend back in the States, feel free. Remember, it's all in the details). Well, Mr. sad Israeli didn't really care that I had a boyfriend at home, and he kept asking me out for coffee. I asked him how come he was single and he revealed that he broke up with a girlfriend he had been dating for 3 years just last week. So, I sat there and gave him the pep talk. I told him that he needed time to heal, that the breakup was still really fresh and the wound was raw. He should have some patience and just relax a little bit. He didn't see things my way, he is one of those "get back on the horse right away" type of guys. I explained to him that he really didn't want to date me but he was just hurt and lonely, and needed some time to get over his ex. His dryer was finally finished so he started packing up to go. Then he told me that I was "a good girl" and attempted again to ask me for coffee. I told him I wouldn't cheat on my American boyfriend, because he trusted me, and wished him luck. We parted but I felt bad for him, he looked so sad. I could empathize.
Enter Simcha, the America who made Aliyah with Nefesh B'Nefesh in July. He heard me speaking English on my cell phone (Avi and I traded messages cancelling on each other for our Kotel get-together this evening) and he asked me for directions regarding the washer and dryer. I decided not to be mean and point out that the directions were on the wall in English, and just told him what he needed to know. Then he asked me to watch his stuff for him while it was in the washer because he was on the internet at the cafe down the block. Not really wanting that responsibility but because he was American and he asked nicely, I acquiesed. He came back 30 minutes later and loaded his wash into the dryer, and I helped him figure out what he needed to do in terms of getting the dryer to work, and then he asked me to call his cell phone when his dryer was finished so he could pick up his clothing.
Now that, my friends, took balls.
Unlike in the US, it costs me money each and every time I make a phone call. It's 100 shekels for 100 minutes, and my minutes tick down considerably when I'm on the phone with the States. I've already gone through over 600 shekels worth of phone cards. So, for him to ask me to call him (without telling me his name, or even exchanging the rudimentary of pleasantries) took major cojones. And, like a jerk, I said fine and he gave me his cell phone number and only after prompting told me his name. He asked me if I had made Aliyah with Nefesh B'Nefesh and I said no, I was in school at Bar Ilan. I started to ask him what he was doing here and he cut me off abruptly, saying that he was being charged for the internet access before sprinting out of the laundromat. I found that really rude and so, when I was finished folding my laundry, I called him and said his laundry was done and I was leaving. And I did.
I went up the block to pick up some dinner. Since I have a massive amount of reading to get through before class on Monday, I decided to pick up a box of microwave popcorn. And as I was paying, I realized that the cashier was a post-op transexual.
Are you getting a better idea of the neighborhood I live in? Stripshow across the street, post-op transexuals working behind the counter of my local supermarket? Now do you understand why I'm ready to move into my new apartment?
So, I actually wouldn't have known that the "woman" was a post-op transexual because she looks well, just like a "woman". But then she opened her mouth and spoke, and the jig was up! That's when I noticed the slight adam's apple, and the less than delicate hands, etc. I didn't stare at "her" while she counted out my money and handed me my receipt, but did get enough of a glance to admire the handiwork. Whoever did her surgery did a great job, because "she" was a very attractive "woman".
I took my laundry and my popcorn and headed home, where I watched Steven Colbert on an old rerun of the Conan O'Brien Show, read all of the assignments for Monday's class, edited a couple of stories and IMed with Jeorjie. I did manage to do some more writing on the Maya piece but I think I'm going to crawl into bed now and try to get at least 5 hours before I have to be up tomorrow.
Song of the early morning is Girls & Boys by Blur in honor of my encounter with the Israeli post-op trannie.
Layla Tov!
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