"Don't be Crazy"

"Why not go after her? what have you got to lose? What have you got to lose?"

I had been feeling a sort of angst, an impatience, all evening. Some friends invited me to a jazz show near my house, but when I showed up I couldn't stand being there. Normally I'm fine with some live jazz, but at that moment it irritated me to no end. It seemed so soft, just some polite, mood-setting background music; and here I was, ready to scream. I couldn't take it.

I ended up going with a friend to a bar on Gaza street. Both of us were a little dispirited. As we left - another uneventful night, another day of eternal bachelorhood - a young lady standing outside the bar caught his fancy. She parted ways with her friends and began walking up the street. I told my friend he should try - what has he got to lose? You can't afford to dwell on these situations, so I quickly patted him on the shoulder, wished him goodbye/good luck, and turned up Radak street for the walk home.

He never did go up to her, but the thought stayed with me. What have you got to lose?

I felt a longing. I was terribly missing my former self. My throat welled up. I was thinking in a way I hadn't thought like in - what was it? 6, 7 years?

For those few moments, I went straight back to the sort of total romanticism I had only experienced in my early twenties. All the advanced calculus of making first contact gave way to this naivete. What have I got to lose? My god, why had I stopped ever thinking that? I'm all of 28, but it felt like I was staring at an old photograph, realizing how much I've aged.

In my close group we called it a "kamikaze mission": a situation where there's not going to be any way to make proper social contact before stating your intentions. You just have to go up, say something short, hope for the best and ask. The classic one is when she's just passed you on the street. Something deep in your gut says it would be a crying shame to let her go. But let me be clear here - this was never mere physical attraction. There would be something about her, something beyond, a je ne sais quoi, that would induce me to do something I would certainly never contemplate doing normally.

It was all coming back to me - "what have I got to lose?" I used to think like that all the time. Going up to a young lady and straightforwardly, almost confessionally, asking her for her number. So she says no - so you gave her a compliment. What's wrong with that? You gave a total stranger a bit of an ego boost for the evening. It was a win-win situation. That was part of the romantics of it - I used to feel happy all the time at the prospect of making someone else happy.

It was such a youthful way of thinking, from a time when even someone out on the street could juuust be "the one". Nothing else mattered at that moment. why not? Take the plunge. No hang-ups, no long analysis of what sort of person she is, I just wanted to go up and try. Not to belittle the genuineness of my interest for a second, but yes - it was very exciting. I would smile at the prospect of doing it, not that there wasn't a good bit of dread as well...

Started walking down Osishkin.

These feelings used to arise at night for me. I would go out on the porch of my parents house, stare at the stars, and something deep inside would strike me. I can't describe it - simultaneous excitement and despair at the untapped potential I thought I had. I would sit at home, and think I have to write something. It's 1:30AM - let's write a book! Let's take my guitar and go sit somewhere and play it. Something's bound to happen! There was a spark of pure romanticism that would bubble to the surface, even in calculating, rational ol' me. god, I haven't had that in years.. what happened? when did all that change? It seems so naive now.

It was around when I hit Bezalel street that it started to fade. I began to see the folly of it, like big, gaping holes. "Don't be crazy. You'd just intimdate her. A total stranger walking up to her like that, in the early hours of the morning? Why on earth would she agree to it? Look, with all the good will in the world, she simply doesn't know you from Adam; you're just putting her on the spot. What do you want her to say? Have some dignity - be an adult. You can't just pounce like that out of the blue. It's a very stressful situation to put her in, and she's much better off playing it safe. You know what? If she says yes, she's probably crazy."

By the time I turned onto my street, it was gone. You grow up, I guess. You mature. People out on the street can't be "the one", right? These things take time, you build them.

I used to be crazy.

The Israeli Disease

(warning - rant coming up)

A friend of mine was kind enough to fly me on a business trip with him once. We were going to have a stopover in Europe, and I wanted to duck into the city for something. I was certain I could do it and come back in time for the connecting flight. He wasn't too thrilled about my plan, but I kept pressing - "It'll work out, c'mon!".

He then asked me The Question - the one question Israelis avoid bringing up, or even contemplating privately, ever:

What happens if it doesn't work out?

This is really a simple question. I couldn't word it any more simply. It means exactly what it says, and doesn't insinuate anything beyond. To an Israeli, however, this question is negative thinking at best, an out-and-out accusation at worst. "What do you mean 'what happens if it doesn't work out'? what, you don't trust me? nothing will go wrong!". And that's exactly it - to an Israeli, nothing will ever go wrong. It's an amazing, widespread delirium. If you don't live in Israel, you may think I'm exaggerating; but if you do, this should sound pretty familiar - it's the Israeli Disease.

While completely detached from reality, the Israeli Disease has its (few) advantages - this eternal optimism is behind our renowned ability to improvise, to miraculously create a solution out of thin air at the last second. It can also be said to be the result of a traditionally more cohesive, trusting society. However, its main problem is that it entails the wholesale sidestepping of consequences to one's actions. Everything will work out because "somehow, it always does", and the results - well, we see the results every day: in the news, and all around us.

Ahh, we lucky Israelis. Since nothing will ever go wrong, we allow ourselves to ask for any favor, big or small, damned the consequences. For the same reason exactly, warranties are nice pieces of paper that give an American-esque aura to a purchase or a service, but not much else. Since nothing will ever go wrong, we can build a rail system and then discover later the rails don't fit the cars. We can build event halls with floors that cave in, not to mention bridges. Since nothing will ever go wrong, government ministries and municipalities needn't concern themselves too much with, say, doing anything. The expression "cover for me" should be in the national anthem.

The Israeli Disease is responsible for us finding ourselves, again and again, up s#!t creek without a paddle. We see our politicians spreading promises left and right with no hope of fulfilling them, blabbing to the press, groping subordinates and taking bribes with no thought of consequence; we see wars fought under the assumption that winning them is somehow an ingrained Israeli "trait"; we see social security messing up, hospitals messing up, the police messing up, the army messing up, companies messing up, drivers messing up. As a good friend pointed out once, the common line you'll hear from a reckless driver - "haven't been killed yet!" - applies to every single person who has, one second before the crash.

So if you're Israeli, by birth or by symptom: please, stop and think. Ask yourself what happens if it doesn't work out exactly the way you planned*. By doing this you're not paranoid or self-defeating, you're merely being smart. By all means, go ahead with your plan, just remember it's only that- not a certainty.

As for my plan? As soon as my friend asked The Question, I dropped it. And surprise surprise: turned out there was no way in hell I could've pulled it off.



* if there even was a plan; "assumed" might be more appropriate.