Tel Aviv Trappings

The elevator doors opened in a manner that suggested they had been deprived of oxygen. The six of us stepped off, made our way up a winding metal catwalk, and entered the open-air breeze of the Villa, one of Tel Aviv's most exclusive bars. At least that's what we had been told earlier in the day.

And at that moment I was inclined to agree. Because we were on the rooftop of a skyscraper overlooking the nighttime skyline. Paging Mr. Trump, your guests have arrived!

Liz had met one of her fellow students from American University and had been invited to attend a party for Prime Minister Netanyahu's staffers. The Israeli government had just finished up a grueling week in a conference dedicated to the state of the economy and regional affairs. Liz had been told to bring up to five of her friends. And so she did.

Needless to say, the Israeli version of Skybar had slightly more flair than its counterpart back home.

"Look for a red-headed guy," Liz instructed.

In a sea of black and brown, it wasn't an unreasonable request. We made our way through the crowd to the opposite side of the rooftop. I observed that most of those here appeared to be in their early-to-late twenties. Clearly these were the Israeli equivalent to legislative assistants in D.C. And they were keen to blow off some steam in style.

We found Liz's friend sitting with some of his guests on a series of sofas near the back corner of the rooftop. It was at this point that my eyes darted around for any sign of Paris Hilton or members of the Corleone family. The coast seemed clear of dimwitted hotel heiresses and mafia kingpins, so we introduced ourselves one-by-one. For various reasons, some of which will become apparent, the name of this individual will remain anonymous. However, for the purpose of this post we'll say his name was "Eric."

First impressions typically are important. And my first impression was one of skepticism. Eric and his friend seemed intrigued that I was from Alabama. I decided to go with it and made a few stereotypical jokes about cornbread, paved roads, and horse-drawn carriages. The only thing that would have perfected the scene would have been Cody, decked out in his rodeo attire, suddenly appearing and calf-roping the anonymous New York native standing off to my left.

Soon we made our way over to the bar to order a drink. For those of you wondering, especially Chandler, they don't serve Bud Light in Tel Aviv; a societal flaw for sure. The three guys who had come with Liz, Dustin, Stefan, and myself were given Tuborg, a Danish beer that Dustin and I gazed at quizzically. Stefan, being half-French and half-Irish (try working that one out!), had apparently had it before and gave his seal of approval.

I haven't mentioned Stefan as of yet, but he's also in level A Ulpan with Dustin, Liz, and I. He's a really great guy who is always laughing and thoroughly enjoys the company of Americans. As I mentioned previously, stereotypes have been the first casualties of this experience, and Stefan is a shining example of that. How many people can claim they know someone from France who supports the NRA?

Exactly.

After a few minutes, Stefan, Liz, and others moved over to sit down on the sofas. Dustin and I remained standing in order to fully take in our surroundings. It was without a doubt one of the most surreal experiences I've ever had. Standing on the rooftop of one of the tallest buildings in a bustling metropolis in the Middle East listening to "Eye of the Tiger" while drinking a Danish beer is not an everyday experience.

"I should have gone to Copenhagen," Dustin said wryly.

"Okay. Now I want you to pan from your left to your right and say that to me again with a straight face," I fired back.

Dustin started laughing and toasted to two years in the Holy Land. Mazel tov indeed.

Off to the left, the beaches of Tel Aviv met the relatively tranquil waves of the Mediterranean. I spotted tiny orange dots approaching us from the air. The dots slowly expanded into orbs and shifted from orange to yellow. As they drew ever closer, they began to cast a pale light on the surface of the sea. Within moments blinking red and blue lights became visible and their silhouettes formed the outline of massive 757 jetliners belonging to El Al airlines.

A steady stream of jets soared above us throughout the night. And on each and every one of them I couldn't help but think of the young children celebrating their first arrival or their latest return to Israel with cries of "Ya ya Yishrael!", of the orthodox undoubtedly praying in the aisles of the jumbo jets bringing them back home, of the gentiles staring at the city and at their fellow passengers in utter astonishment.

It was a sight to behold and one that none of us there are likely to forget.

After an hour or so, Eric wanted to move someplace else a little more casual to talk. We were all for it seeing as how any attempt to converse with Israelis in Hebrew was futile. One week of Hebrew doesn't make for anything more than a laugh or a befuddled glare with the natives.

We left the Villa and went down the beach boardwalk to an establishment called Mike's Place. It's an American-centric restaurant situated directly next to the U.S. embassy that caters to U.S. visitors. They serve American food and keep their multiple televisions tuned in to American sports. Dustin and I pegged it last week as our likely locale for watching college football in the Fall.

We gathered at an outdoor table and ordered food. Behind us, taxis zipped by picking up late-night beach-goers. New York's claim as the "city that never sleeps" has received a major challenge from Tel Aviv. It is not out of the ordinary to see Israelis eating dinner at 11:30 or walking along the boardwalk for ice cream (glidah) and entertainment into the early morning hours.

Everything seemed to be going well until the discussion took an abrupt turn to politics. I should preface this by saying that I did not instigate it. Those of you who assumed I did may now begin castigating yourselves.

Whether it was intentional or just spontaneous I will never know, but Liz suddenly turned to "Eric" and declared that Dustin and I were "super-conservatives." Being on opposite ends of the table, we looked at each other with a bit of annoyance. I shot Liz an incredulous glare and braced myself for what was about to occur.

Neither Dustin nor myself have brought up our politics or even had much of an interest since we've been here. We're in Israel to learn and immerse ourselves in a culture that has long intrigued us. But it is inevitable that during discussions, people learn that Dustin worked at the Heritage Foundation and that I worked on Senator McCain's campaign.

Liz had just poked the proverbial bear with a stick. Eric and a couple of his friends looked over at me with smug, elitist expressions that began stoking the embers deep down inside.

"Conservatives huh?"

"They're like completely conservative on everything," Liz remarked.

"I think we should define "super-conservative," Dustin suggested to no avail.

It was like watching a pack of ravenous wolves circling about their prey. Unfortunately for the wolves, they didn't know that their "prey" was packing heat.

"Pretty much, yea." I replied.

"So you're a fascist?" one asked.

"I prefer the term neocon. That word usually gets the bile spewing out of liberal mouths. And by the looks of it, I have a feeling you're going to need a bucket."

The group of Israelis sitting next to us began to turn their attention our way. I'm an entire hemisphere away and there's just no escaping the tentacles of the American left.

The conversation transformed into a duel between myself and Eric as the others simply watched. Everything from George Bush to healthcare to the stimulus package to the 2008 election to Obama's foreign policy was brought up. Liz attempted to jump in on Eric's side. But it was too little too late. I was already citing figures and numbers from the CBO as Stefan and the Israelis listened intently.

"So it's a false statistic. There are not 45 million uninsured. At least 13 million of those are illegal immigrants who aren't even American citizens. Millions more are people our age who are young and healthy and who opt out of the system by choice. Choice is something that liberals claim to support, but I've found that that typically only rings true when it comes to killing a child in the womb."

"So you're saying we should just let all the others rot?!" Eric asked indignantly.

"Not the issue. Do you actually believe healthcare is a constitutional right? Why should some federal bureaucrat up in D.C. get in-between me and my doctor? Do you think they really know best how to run my life?"

"Yes I do." Liz stated unequivocally.

"You think the "elect," the "elite," the few should control the lives of all Americans?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Yes. The average American IQ is only 87 afterall."

"I see. And I'm supposedly the fascist?" I remarked, unable to hold in the laughter.

Stutters and stammers erupted. The Israelis sitting next to us were mesmerized. Eric and his entourage were searching for any type of response. Being shown to be the very thing you despise is never an enjoyable revelation. Their initial usage of the term fascist had come back to haunt them in a country and amongst people where that was a very bad thing indeed.

"See, that's the thing. It all boils down to power. Liberals are power hungry. Their entire ideology is about control over the supposedly "dumb" masses. You just admitted it. And you use the government as your engine. Universal healthcare is the perfect example of this."

"It's about helping the poor. It's not about control."

"It's about making people dependent on the government so they will have no choice but to vote for Democrats. If this was really about helping the poor, why didn't we just take some of the money in the stimulus package...and buy people health insurance?"

Crickets.

Game. Set. Match.

"You make good points. But let me give you some advice. You should try to contain that loud offputting southern demeanor," Eric said in a condescending tone.

One of the Israelis sitting next to me jumped in as soon as the conversation ended. He asked where I was from.

"Alabama."

"You worked for McCain?"

"Yea. I did."

The Israeli looked at my side of the table and grinned widely.

"I liked McCain. I wish he'd won."

"Me too," another Israeli chimed in.

The wolves retreated back to their den in a whimper. The conversation briefly turned to what we were doing in Tel Aviv. It turned out that he was a student at Tel Aviv University as well. He extended his hand and introduced himself as Ron.

"I'm sure we'll see each other on campus. Nice to meet you, Drew."

"Na'im ma'hod, Ron" I replied.

"Na'im ma'hod," he answered back.

I turned my attention back to the table. Stefan and Elana were grinning.

"You're just making all kinds of friends."

Glancing over at Eric, I quietly finished the statement in my mind. And enemies too...