Mission Accomplished

I know I tend to make a big deal out of things. And since I don't plan on stopping anytime soon here goes Lottie vs gas mask take two.

Whoever lives/has lived/will live with them should know/already knows that I am a loser and I don't set my alarm for times like 7:00, 7:15, 7:30, etc. You know the "normal" times.

Why?

Because I feel bad for the times that never get attention. You know who are we to take that 7:17am isn't a wonderful time. 

If you want to hear about this theory feel free to contact me. I am going to save my dignity and shut up. 

Anyways yesterday morning I set me alarm clock for 5:16, 5:19 and 5:22. 

Mission: Gas mask. 

On the first bus at 6am. Actually I was the only one on the first bus at 6am. 

If some stalker happened to video me as I was walking the two minute walk of determination from the bus stop to the post office I request you make it in slow motion and Chariots of Fire in the background. 

I knew I was going to be first. I mean please, I woke up at 5:16am. I was going to be numero uno in line. And be out of there and not be late for work. 

Well let me tell you, sometimes its very damaging to your ego to be a cup half full type of person. 

It was 6am and by the time I got there there were 100 people already. Oh and let's keep in mind that the post office didn't even open until 8am. 

There was a piece of paper going around where you had to write down your name next to the next number on the list. 

I was number 105. 6am and 105 people are standing like exhausted idiots outside of a post office. 

I mean I think only Assad can accomplish that. He made us wake up before the crack of dawn, so ya, Assad proved his hatred to us. We get it. Now let's just end this and carry on with our lives. 

Well by 7am the list was at 600 people. It was choas. Really all we needed was a Na Na Nach truck and the mental institution committee would be on their way. 

Chabad really missed out on this one. They had 600 people to put tefillin on. 

- Looks like Steven Spielberg has got some competition. You can't tell how many people are ahead of me in this video since I was at the bottom of the staircase. But believe me when I say that there was a lot. 

But in terms of people writing their names of the piece of paper with the numbers, things were pretty organized. 

Since the post office wasn't open until 8, regular guys had to keep the crowd under control. 

There were TV crews everyone and people mumbling their predictions of will it be doom, death or destruction? 

Never a dull moment in the holy land eh. 

At 7:30 this guy Shachar took charge and went to the top of the stair case and yelled down that he got barriers to create three orderly lines at the top of the staircase so numbers 1-30 should go in line one, 31-60 in line two and 61-90 in line three. 

Obviously since there were more people there then the amount of Jews leaving Egypt, after Shachar yelled it the guy closest to him yelled it, and so on. It was basically one big game of telephone. 

One big game of telephone at 7:30 freaking a.m. with Israelis. Joy. 

People listened though. Believe it or not and for the most part there were no riots or fist fights. I think that's enough proof to prove that g-d can indeed make miracles. 

Ok so 8:00 comes. Post office is not open. 

For some reason the man in charge, Shachar, who has in the past half hour become our savior and had a number of job offers and requests to replace Bibi, managed to ask someone in the post office why they were still closed. As he stood up on the top of the staircase we all got quiet to here the newest Moshe Rabianu speak. (It was hysterical every time he stood up it went silent.) 

Shachar told us that they can't open because they need permission from the police. 

Honestly if it was any other country I would ask why, but in Israeli it's just not even worth the brain cells to ponder this wonder of the world. 

Right after Shachar spoke some guy in the crowd yelled if we all cheer for the police maybe they will come and open up. 

Five seconds later we are all chanting "mishtara, mishtara, mishtara". I felt like it was color war and we were team "police."

Why everyone woke up on the right side of the bed with the words "unity" "teamwork" "smiles" "cooperation" "go with the flow" is beyond me. 

But when 800 people cheer "mishtara", you just gotta join. 

Lesson learned: cheering gets you no where. 

Five minutes later Shachar comes back from his new office that he made for himself at the top of the staircase with a megaphone. 

This guy was getting more legit-er by the minute.  

He kept on making Obama jokes and told us what today's forecast will be. 

Honestly by hour number three, with a very much dying phone in the 9am heat you will laugh at anything. 

Finally at 9:30 (yes, an hour and a half late) he told us that the police finally gave permission. 

The cheering was the sort of cheering you would hear from me if the Mindy Project comes back tomorrow and not September 17. You get the picture. 

After the police gave permission oh holy Shachar said in his now decorated megaphone (this guys ego was skyrocketing, higher then any rocket that will ever come out of Gaza) that number 91-120 can line up. 

To quote Glee (and whoever originally sang the song One Of Us)- "yeah yeah gd is good yeah yeah gd is great". 

I was finally in a line and not in a moshpit at the bottom of the staircase.

I was in a line at the top of the stairs next to Shachar, The Holy One. What have I done to deserve such a reward?

Behind me in line was number 106, Ms. Yaffa Perry. I know this because this woman was literally a psychopath. 

First of all she had a bag on her head. You know it was getting really hot so a lot of people were putting pretty funky things on their heads. We had the cardboard box lady who basically injured a few people with the sharp corner of her box. We had the guy who made a sail man hat out of paper. I'm sure his kids loved him. We had Ms. Yaffa who had a bag on her head that said "I love Italy and Italy loves you." I highly doubt that that love is mutual. 

I mean has no one ever heard of a hat. H.A.T. Definition- something you put on your head to guard you from the sun. 

Anyways back to Yaffa. Women with babies were allowed to wait inside once they got their number because it was way to hot for a baby to be outside for so long. Actually it was way to hot for anyone between the ages of 0-120 to be out for so long, but that's besides the point. 

Yaffa accused every woman who went inside with their baby of cutting the line. She also told one woman that she is too skinny to have a baby that young so she must have stolen the baby. 

She had Shachar check the list of names every time a woman passed with a baby to make sure that the woman knows her number and knows that she, Yaffa, is number 106 and if anyone goes before her they won't need a gas mask. Why? Because they would be dead long before Syria sends any chemicals over. 

It was 9:37, and my line was still not budging. I ate around the slutty brownie I casually had with me for a party later. I actually brought everything I needed for work with me. I thought since I would be in and out of there within two hours I would go straight to work. 

Little did I know that this wait would cost blood, sweat and tears, and a shower after was more than necessary. 

Some woman in the crowd, you know those peasents at the bottom of the staircase with the number 807 who basically had to wait all day, fainted from the heat. 

When this happened I overheard the best comment ever. Oh and this guy also asked it so philosophically- "hmmm I wonder if it's this hot in Uganda."

The woman was brought to the top of the staircase to sit next to the fan that us top of the staircase-er VIP's were so fortunately blessed with. Obviously Yaffa accused her of faking. 

It was about 9:52 and I was finally the next person up to get my gas mask. 

I saw my life pass before me. 

It took me 21 years to get to this moment in my life and I couldn't be any happier. No regrets. Well maybe a few, but nothing major.

I came, I saw, and (four hours later) I conquered. 

Yup, I finally got it, and after doing my victory dance, I got cheered, high five-d and interviewed.
I came, I saw, and (four hours later) I conquered. 

Yes, my dream came true. I got interviewed. However, I would have never guessed that during my first interview I would look like a sweating cow. I was so giddy I couldn't even answer her questions. 

She asked me what time I woke up this morning, how long I waited, and what are my feelings about the overall situation. 

To put in nicely every answer consisted of about 100 "um's", zero eye contact, and showing off my gas mask box to random strangers who high five-d me. 

You would think I won an Oscar. 

But basically if you see me on TV, please don't watch. I look like a space cadet purple (I was wearing purple) cow. 

When I got to the bus stop, a few woman were sitting on the bench waiting and they saw me holding my gas mask and they got up and told me I deserve to sit. 

Note to self- if you ever need a confidence booster, walk aruond the post office with a cardboard box (for those who don't have a gas mask) and for those that do bring your gas mask to the post office. 

Works like a charm. 

I was so late for work that it didn't really matter if I just ran home, showered, and threw the box in my closet. Oh and did another victory dance of course. 

Honestly at first I thought my little gas mask would be my newest cuddle buddy. The effort I went threw to get it, allows it to replace my Reeses pillow, but now I feel like I have a weapon in my closet. I open the doors slowly as to not disturb the gas mask, and I hid it under a bunch of scarves since it really is scary to look at. It's like a monster is living in my closet. A monster I have named "gassy"- it takes too long to say gas mask. 

Lesson learned: when your roommate ordered her gas mask way back when last Septemeber, don't make fun of her and tell her you would rather walk around wearing lime green nail polish then order it. 

Instead be inspired and motovated by this psychic friend to jump on her bandwagon. 

And with that I wish Yaffa and Shachar (who is probably still chilling at the post office with his megaphone friend) a gas-less Shabbat. 

May we laugh at this whole gas mask saga very soon and never need to actually opened the sealed box! 

Presenting Israel's Newest Social Scene

If I was a psychic this is what I would have told myself approx 3 hours ago:

Before leaving your home/apt/trailer/street prepare yourself: 

- You will sweat. 

- You will be pushed. 

- You will be elbowed. 

- You will basically be able to sue for physical harassment had you been in America. 

- This will be worse than Ben Yehuda on your first Friday of Shana Alef. You have been warned. 

What to bring:

- an iPod with inspiring, power to you, type of songs. 

- a smile. If you are not a smiley person, no worries, it will go away after a few minutes. 

- a good attitude. You were sent into a bomb shelter this year, buying a gas mask half a year later. All part of the Israeli experience. Whoop de do. Let's paint rainbows. 

Gas mask time baby. Cue the inspirational, dramatic music. 

Well I didn't know any of this. 

I woke up this morning at 5am to study for a final (yes, it's Aug 28 and I'm still taking finals.), took the final at 8:30, accepted the fact that I failed which broke my heart, went to buy some food to help me heal my broken heart, realized how sad my life is when I am not in school/at work, came home and was ready to cram in some last minute studying for my driving test which I was planning on taking in the afternoon. And then I went on Facebook. 

Is it just me that whenever I hear "and then I went on Facebook" you know something bad is about to happen. 

Gas masks, war, chemicals, Assad. Doom. Death. Destruction. The Mayans got confused and really meant Aug 2013 is when the world will end. 

Dum dee dum dum. 

Lord have mercy. Life is not a highway, Rascal Flatts, it's a freaking episode of 24 that never ends. And I am your main character. Move on over Jack Bauer. 

I am a news freak. I love reading the news. Especially in Israel, you gotta know what the deal is. This place is so unpredictable that if you skip the newspaper routine one day you will miss that "today Israel is not selling apples in protest of the strike that is going on in Ben Gurion which is due to the lack of toilet paper in Jerusalem." Basically you gotta read the news. 

So I knew what the deal was in Syria for a while, but I guess it finally hit me.

You. Gas. Mask. NOW. 

 I'm thinking it hit me because I was really not in the mood to study for my driving test. It's not everyday you can procrastinate using the excuse of gas masks. 

Hashtag only in Israel. Hashtag YOLO. Hashtag people who say "hashtag" in sentences annoy me more than a broken ice cream cone with ice cream dripping out of it.  

I looked up a few numbers to call for home delivery, because I'm lazy. And honest. 

But obviously in times of need they decide not to be working. I can't say I'm surprised. 

On to the post office (gas mask distrubution spot) in Tel Aviv I go... 

On the bus I realized I should have brought my driving theory test study material. You know, getting back at Assad. Yo, this woman can drive baby. But I am not gangster and don't plan on talking to a dictator anytime soon, so I stopped that thought. 

Got to the post office. First time I didn't get lost using google maps (I'm telling you, I can't follow a map for the life of me). Shehechiyanu. 

About the post office... In most countries there post offices are probably dead quiet all day. Well Israel is not most countries. 

Dear Bored Post Office Workers, 

Move to Israel. We know how to turn dull outdated buildings into quite the hot spot. 

Love, 

Israel

Thousands of people. It was like going in a time machine to the old school days and the only means of communications was through pigeons or mail. Pen and paper and stamps sort of mail. Kind of like those long lost Lisa Frank days. 

It looks like a handful of people waiting. Well multiply this handful by 1,000 and that's how many people are in front of them, inside, or waiting on sidewalks. 
The Teaneck post office wishes it looks like this. 

Only thing to remember was this post office was Israelite style. 

What is a line? Hmmm g-d gave me a fist and a terribly loud voice for a reason eh. 

There were so many people that the tickets with your number in line ran out. Classic Israel, when the tickets run out you just push even more. 

Assad, you haven't attacked us yet nor will you ever (please gd) but you caused Israelis to attack me with their elbows. And gosh their elbows are strong. My bruises thank you. 

Even more classic Israel, when hundreds of people can't even get into the building to see which ticket number is next up because it is so blocked up some guy comes outside and yells the next number up. 

About 15 years ago I was in England with my fam jam and we were waiting outside Buckingham Palace for the gates to open or something. Remember I was 6. I didn't care about anything but chocolate. 

Anyways, my parents were pushing about four different strollers, because at the age of six I had four siblings. Camp Kestenbaum. And as some car was coming down some pathway (remember 6, chocolate, me) a British guard screamed so loud at my parents to "MOVE THAT BUGGY". (Buggy is a stroller). 

Point of the story is that this British buggy guard had nothing on this calling numbers guy. 

Havoc. 

If this guy becomes famous tonight... you saw him here first. 

I am pretty competitive so when I set my mind to doing something I like to do it and do it the best way possible to show the world that I really am invincible, but this wasn't worth it.

As I started leaving I saw a bunch of TV crews and interviewers and people with those chunky monkey cameras. Basically paparazzi. I guess in Israel you're a celeb if you leave getting a gas mask to the 11th hour. 

Represent. 

I left interview-less, gas mask-less, bruised, and so upset that I was excluded from the newest Israeli fashion trend- holding a cardboard box. 

Presenting the newest fashion trend. 

You will be on a beach during your labor day weekend. 

I will be waiting for a gas mask during mine. 

Tell the beach I send my love. 

Never a dull moment. 

Post Office, prepare for take two tomorrow in Jerusalem. See you at the crack of dawn.

Shout out Assad for ruining my sleeping routine.  

Lessons Learned (In Honor My Aliyah-versary)

A few years ago around Thanksgiving time, one of my brothers showed me a Youtube video of a headless turkey (chill, it was a cartoon) singing "I Will Survive." 

Being the highly intellectual person that I am, I erased that video from my head until recently when I was thinking about my one year aliyah-versary.

Yes, it's true the first thing I thought of when thinking about August 14 was a Youtube video of a headless turkey. Nbd. 

I was trying to reason this extremely ridiculous comparison to myself and came up with a pretty solid justification- I have survived my fist year as an Israel even though there were more times than one, actually more times that about twenty three, when I thought I had really lost my mind. 

Whoever invented the phrase "never a dull moment" has clearly lived in Israel. 

Honestly, I have been targeted by a wallet thief, Hamas, Ms. Manner's rebellion squad, my phone company, and motorcycle drivers who are incapable of understanding the difference between the street and a pedestrian sidewalk. 

Call me a miracle child. 

But in the name of YOLO, I wouldn't trade any of these near death physical and/or mental experiences for anything. 

I think.

Here are some things I learned this year about myself and about living in Israel.

1) I learned how to tell someone my number, address and say you are always welcome, without actually telling them. Ya that's right. No need to awkwardly ask for peoples' numbers anymore. 

Here are the dirty details: Ever since I found out there is a somewhat good sushi place that delivers near me, I think all the delivery guys think I want to marry them based on how many times they have been to my apt to deliver.

Back when I was getting money from the government (aka back when I was rich) I would order sushi more times than I feel comfortable admitting. In fact, I still do order more sushi than I feel comfortable admitting.

Due to this, not only am I slowly turning into a spicy tuna (you know, because you are what you eat), but all the sushi delivery guys know where I live and my phone number. And they know it very well. So well that they don't even buzz into my building anymore.

One of them practically watched Sleepless In Seattle with me one time while I was looking for money to pay him. 

It's true, I love sushi so much I am willing to look like a player for it.

And that my friends is how it's done. More dating tips coming your way. 

2) I have learned the tactics of cutting in line. Not that I would ever endorse it or anything. I still have some self-dignity. But after observing the deed being done on more than about fifty six occasions here's the drill.

Setting: the bank (believe it or not that's when it happens the most.)

Victim: a twenty one year old, blonde hair (well sort... bad dying job a few years back), blue eyes, 5"4, American. Oh that's me by the way.

Step One- Look the victim in the eye. Eye contact is essential. Try to intimidate them or engage in the ultimate blinking contest.

Step Two- Confuse the victim by encircling her several times and appearing somewhat confused while you do it. Confidence will only lead to the victim hating you even more.

Step Three- After the fourth encircle, causally go in front of her.

Step Four- Once your victim notices you cut her, she may appear as though she just found out that the tooth fairy is a lie (aka she may look shocked) but ignore them and continue to act like your rude, cocky, obnoxious self.

Yes, I am a victim of this terrible reality. Us victims anonymous must unite to create a better and polite tomorrow.

3) I have learned how to shush people, or at least I try. 

The other day on the bus, I was sitting near a woman who was yelling down her phone. 

Now I too am a phone yeller, but I took a Ms. Manners course for the phone yellers, and no longer talk on the phone on buses for the sake of others. However, this woman was another story. All I could make out was someone just got engaged (side-note: is it just me or am I the only one left who isn't dating, engaged, or married). Great. Mazal tov. Bayit neaman blah blah blah. But this woman was yelling and yelling and there I was, little old me, just finishing another exhausting day at work and wanting to have a calm and peaceful bus ride home. Enough was enough!

I got so mad I was going to shush her. Crazy. I know. 

Anyways, I finally got the courage to do so and my shush came out more as a quiet blow out of fear that she would beat me up. 

Lesson learned: I have a long way to go. 

4) Speaking of buses, I have a tendency to sit next to psychopathic, mental institution runaways on buses. 

A few weeks ago I sat next to a woman who just found out:

a) Kate Middleton had a baby boy and not girl (I'm telling I was dead set on this heir to the throne being a girl).

b) What happened on The Bachelorette. I won't even go there. Too soon. Way too soon.

I mean those are two very valid reasons to be yelling that loud, but really on a bus?! I thought she was going to hit me next. I would be lying fir I said I didn't get off that bus two stops before my stop. 

I also sat next to a girl who was listening to music without headphones. 

First of all they sell headphones more than they sell water these days so that's just not an excuse. 

Also I really appreciate the free entertainment she was offering, but 50 Cent is not my forte thank you very much. Especially not Candy Shop on repeat. 

I sat next to a woman who was gagging the entire bus ride. Without going into details, I moved before anything dramatic took place. Call me rude and inconsiderate, but there is a reason I ain't becoming a doctor. 

5) I am very into my personal space. I don't like it when people get in my face. I know, I sound like the sign by the lions in a zoo, "don't get too close at the risk of getting bitten". Well that's me. Get too close, I will bite you. 

And then I moved to Israel. 

I'm telling you I could sue someone for physical harassment and win if what was happening to me in Israel happened in America. 

The other day some guy pushed me and it was my fault. Yup, my fault for "being in the way." Forgive me sir for living. 

6) Another personal fun fact I learned about Israel is Israelis confusion about coming on and off trains. A long long time ago, aka two months ago, signs were put up all over Jerusalem by train stops saying "let others get off first before you get on". 

I can tell you the day I learned this rule. Story time. 

The week before my bat mitzvah I broke my leg by slipping on ice. Yes, ultimate fail. Thankfully my bat mitzvah dress covered the cast and I just wobbled around on bat mitzvah day since I refused to use my crutches, and dancing was a no go. I was promised a re-do f my bat mitzvah, and I'm still patiently waiting for one. Tear tear.

Anyways, if we are looking at this story from the cup half full perspective, I got to use to elevator in my school for the month I had a cast on. I have never been so popular in my life since I had to use it with a buddy. 

Anyways, one day I was waiting for the elevator with my buddy and we went in before the teacher could get out. 

Oh my g-d, I pray that no one ever yells at me like that ever again. It was tragic. 

Well from that day on I have been an advocate of letting others off before going on since I always here that teacher's voice in my head. 

So back to what I was saying- the signs go up. Whoop de do. But they don't seem to understand that letting others out first means stepping aside so they can come out, not crowding their space so you can be the first one on once they all get out. 

My solution- if you are trying to get out and they are crowding your space just jump on the guy in front of you and do some crowd surfing. 

7) I have learned that Israelis make the biggest deal out of absolutely nothing and the smallest deal out of something really important. Take the ouse in my apartment for example- http://newestsabraontheblock.blogspot.co.il/2013/07/a-tale-of-one-mouse.html. 

Or when a train and/or bus is approaching they run to get it as if the apocolypse is coming. Chill. Egged provides more than one train/bus. You will live. I promise. 

However, when it comes to Hamas throwing rockets and the siren going off where I live all I get is "woohoo eize chavaya" and "eh you will be fine." 

So mice and trains can kill, but rockets are a walk in the park? Got it. 

8) I have also come to terms with that fact that I am and will always be overdressed. Actually it's not so much of being overdressed, it's more of I will always be wearing appropraite clothes for the place I am going to. The first time I went to a governmental office the guy helping me was wearing sweatpants. 

I was flabbergasted. Floored. In shock. If I could think of more synonyms off the top of my head I would write them. 

10) I learned that getting appointments anywhere are the equivalent of finding a traveling the world, curing cancer, running a marathon and making world peace. All in one day. 

Let's see who still wants to be my friend after I say this- I had athletes foot for a while. 

It was gross. And hurt. Badly. 

So like any normal person I wanted to go to an pediatrist (preferably Jacob's dad, but sadly he is located in America). So I called an English speaking office and asked to make an appointment. They told me I need to get a referral from my doctor. I told them I am currently watching my pinky toe fall off (sure you still want to be my friend?) so I don't think I need a referral. They told me I do. In protest I dropped the whole thing. 

Lucky for me with enough Neosporin the whole thing went away. I promise I am athlete foot free for the time being. Promise. 

11) I learned never to discuss J.Crew on Times of Israel. I think whoever knows me knows I tend to exaggerate when I write (and those who don't know me I don't think I am a holier than thou snob). Well I forgot TOI people don't know me, are over politically correct, enjoy nitpicking and excel at being fun suckers. 

And for all of you wondering, no I don't constantly order from J.Crew. (referring to my aliyah article on the TOI)

Props to me for getting readers to talk about J.Crew customer service or whatever on my aliyah blog. 

12) I have learned the El-Al flight schedule to JFK/Newark and Heathrow/Luton off the top of my head. It's the eighth wonder of the world as to why I have failed to memorize the bus schedule from Givat Shmuel to Jerusalem. 

13) I have learned that Israelis believe in the freedom of the dog, and do not provide leashes for their animals. It's like the whole "give me liberty of give me death" situation has gotten a little confused and out of hand. The "give me liberty" bit applies to the dog in this country, while the "give me death" scenario is awarded to the poor unfortunate soul who gets savagely ripped apart by the liberty-provided dog. 

In case you didn't know yet, saying I have a fear of dogs is an understatement. 

The number on tip to living here is learning how to laugh at the little things. Thankfully, I learned this early enough to avoid the psych ward or jumping off a bridge. 

Here's to year two...!