28/7/01

The Tourists

Who can remember the last time anyone visited Israel?

    Nobody would have believed it, but there were witnesses: in the late-night sherut from the airport, the man in the back seat asked if anyone knew of a good hotel in Jerusalem. "I'm a tourist," he said.
    Six Israelis in the taxi were dumbstruck into silence, which nobody would have believed either. They turned around, and gaped at him in amazement. "A what?!" 
    Five minutes in the country, the fellow thought to himself, and already he'd upset the natives. "I'm sorry," he said nervously, "I said I'm a tourist, me and my wife. We come in peace, we're American citizens."
    Tourists!
    The Israelis burst into applause, which quickly lapsed into rhythmic clapping. Joyously, they cried and laughed and sang old-fashioned Zionist songs. Trembling, the driver got on his cellphone. "Yeah, tourists! ... How should I know? Wait, I'll ask. Allo, tourist -- your name please."
    "Who wants to know?"
    "I think everybody," the driver said.
    "Steinberg. Harv and Maude. Are we hostages? Let me remind you, we're American citizens..." 
    With one call the news spread to the media, the mayor and the government. The driver checked his mirror: if he was going to be famous, he wanted to look his best.
    Word got around, as it does in this country, and the taxi was joined by a veritable motorcade along the highway, a festive honking convoy.
    "Bloody ridiculous," Harv said to Maude.
    Silly tourists. They just don't understand.
    When the taxi passed the "Prepare For the Coming of the Moshiach" billboard at the entrance of the holy city, it was well past midnight, but you'd never know it. What a spectacle! The route, festooned with American flags, was lined with cheering Jerusalemites waving "Welcome Harv and Maude!" placards. Everyone gaped at the arriving heroes, giving new meaning to the term "tourist attraction."
    Imagine! Tourists!
    Surging throngs of hotel managers had to be held back by riot police.
    President Katsav (the prime minister was abroad, and regrettably could not get back in time) stood at a microphone, holding a speech he'd prepared long ago, should such an occasion arise during his presidency.
    Even before the Steinbergs could get out of the taxi, Mayor Olmert climbed in to hug them both. He had banked his mayoralty on bringing tourists back to the city, and this meant he was saved.
    The mayor, proud as a peacock, accompanied the Steinbergs to the podium. "Are you Jewish?" he asked his new friends.
    "It so happens," Maude replied curtly.
    Imagine! Jewish tourists! In Israel!
    "Look, we're kinda tired," Harv told the mayor, "and frankly, what we  need right now is a bathroom and a bed. If you could find us a hotel with a room to spare..."
    The hotel managers broke through the barrier.
    The tourism minister (bet you didn't know we have one) offered -- no; insisted on taking the Steinbergs on a personally guided tour of the city, "tonight, while the terrorists are still asleep," he said.
    Maude, exhausted, glared at him balefully. "We'd rather wait till morning and take our chances."
    They weren't going anywhere until after all the speeches. There was an impressive lineup of speakers representing the gamut of relevant officials, up to and including the president of the Jerusalem Association of Thirty Minute Film Developers, who happily bestowed on the Steinbergs a 50 percent discount, bringing it down to 15 minutes.
    The crowd roared in approval.
    The crowd was delirious. Some people recalled when Sadat arrived in Jerusalem, but compared to this, that was nothing. A better comparison would be the moon landing.
     (If you think all this is an exaggeration, then you don't understand how we in this country have suffered.)
     Media people were everywhere. The taxi driver was holding a press conference off to the side, while the other five passengers were detailing their official versions to roving reporters. By now, several hundred people were claiming to have been in that taxi.
    Finally, the main attraction, as the president of the State of Israel called upon the Steinbergs to say a few words.
    Maude had already fallen asleep, standing up. "Huz umbul muh zzzzz," she snored into the microphone. She got a huge ovation anyway.
    "Mrs. Steinberg," a reporter yelled over the din, "Do you have a solution to the Palestinian problem?"
    "Will you be meeting with Arafat?" asked another.
    "How do you like the weather here so far?"
    "In your experience, would you say this is a safe place for tourists?"
    "Yesh lach dollarim?"
    Harv, crazed from exhaustion, grabbed the microphone. "What is it with you people?! We're just a couple of average, ordinary American citizens, we come here for a few quiet days, and it's like we started a revolution; we planned to visit some of the sites, but you won't even let me go to the bathroom! Right now, all I want is a key to a hotel room, and you give us the key to the whole goddam city. Is anybody listening?!"
    He got a huge ovation.
    A tremendous fireworks display lit up the sky.
    What a night!
    What a nightmare for the Steinbergs.
    Maude said the hell with it, and loosened her girdle.
    Harv couldn't stop himself. "It's said you Israelis are supposed to be rude, that everything here is expensive, that you treat visitors with indifference, but what we've seen so far is the exact opposite. Well, take my advice: if you ever want to see another tourist, be Israeli, be rude, expensive, indifferent, we expect it, we like it. No one comes here to be treated like royalty.
    "Maude and I spent a lot of money for a quiet vacation. It's not too late. Taxi! Where is that stupid driver? TAXI!! Take us back to the airport, and step on it!"
    An hour later, Israel's only tourists were gone.
    At the crack of dawn, the terrorists awoke, they said their morning prayers, and Israel was back to normal again.
    Well past noon, the Steinbergs finally got out of bed in a hotel in a strange country (any country where no one speaks English is considered strange), and immediately commenced their vacation: they complained to the hotel manager that the chambermaid treated them "like dirt." They were happy.
     The following year, the Steinbergs were on a charter flight with 250 vacationers headed for Greece. Suddenly, two men, Middle Eastern in appearance, stood up and announced they were hijacking the plane. "We're with the Mossad," they explained. "It's our new plan to bring tourists to Israel."