11/11/94

The First Israeli Tourists in Jordan

Benny finally put down his cellphone and said to his host: ‘Yalla, what’re we waiting for? Let’s see this country of yours.’

    It was a great day when Israeli tourists crossed into Jordan for the first time and weren't shot.
    The king's special envoy greeted them at the border. "Welcome, welcome," he said, grinning from one tip of his mustache to the other. "My name is Walid Hashemi. On behalf of the Hashemite --"
    Benny and Batya weren't actually listening. "Allo! Allo!" Benny bellowed into his cellphone. "Dudu, did my insurance agent call yet?"
    Walid blinked. He had never before seen an Israeli, or a cellphone, and certainly not an Israeli with a cellphone. He wondered if maybe this was how the Jews had won the war. The ministry would surely want to hear about this. "On behalf of the Hashemite kingdom," he continued,  "King Hussein hopes... hopes that ..."
    "Allo! Shoshi? How's business? Good. Tell that crazy Iraqi that we get oil today or we cut him off. Understand?"
    Walid, wide-eyed, understood. He had been selected for this mission because he knew Hebrew, and already his training was paying off: he had stumbled on a major secret!
    So the Israelis had cut a sly deal with Saddam, breaking the embargo. Wait till the ministry hears about this!
    "You still there, Shoshi? I have an important message for Yitzhak. Tell him to prepare extra felafel. Deliver them to Sinai tonight. No, he's not expecting it."
    In the name of Allah! The Jordanian choked on a gasp. A surprise invasion of Egypt! Walid was no idiot -- he had read spy stories, you know -- and he knew that "felafel" was the Zionist symbol for "military officers." Yitzhak, as every Arab on Earth knew, could only mean Rabin, the Jewish prime minister and ... and defense minister too!  
    Batya was getting impatient. "Ach, Benny, put away the phone, we have a lot to see. If we don't do Petra they'll kill us when we get back."
    Benny grumbled, but meekly obeyed -- a monumental mistake. Walid, trembling, realized he had just exposed the fatal flaw in the legendary, invincible Israeli: this fearless nation that stood up to the world and won every time will capitulate to, of all things, women!  Walid had never heard of such a thing. He must get word to HQ, and fast: the Israelis could be had!
    He wondered if the Egyptians could train and mobilize a female jihad by nightfall.
    Benny looked at his host for the first time. "Yalla, what're we waiting for, let's see this country of yours."
    Walid pulled himself together, whipped out his warmest smile and affixed a twinkle to his eyes. "Most cherished friends," he said, with formality befitting the historic occasion, "His Majesty the King wishes you a comfortable stay.  He wishes you to take full advantage of his humble servant Walid, and his humble limousine."
    "Air-conditioned?" Batya demanded.
    "Just the car, ma'am."

AS THEY drove to Amman, Walid talked about how wonderful peace is, how happy he was that the Palestinians once again had fig trees to sit under, how courageous the Israeli soldiers are.
    "Damn right," Batya said, filing her nails. "My Benny fought in three wars. Beat the crap out of --" she suddenly remembered where she was, and blushed.
    "I was a cook," Benny hastily explained, "at a base, uh, somewhere in Israel."
    Walid smiled diplomatically. "I didn't think your army needed cooks. You always seem to finish a war before anyone can get hungry."
    They were still traveling through the East Bank when Benny ordered the car to stop. He got out, went to a Jordanian tree, got back in, and that got Walid to talking about his country's water problems. "But now that there is peace, you Israelis will find a solution for us."
    Benny laughed coarsely. "Oh, sure, when every last one of us has come through here, you'll see what Peres meant by the 'piss process.'"
    Walid was certain his two guests were not typical of their countrymen. After all, he reasoned, they had the ear of the prime minister. This, then, must be as good as they get.
    Finally, they arrived in Amman. Walid tingled with pride. Batya yawned. Benny shouted into his phone. "Kobi, we're here. Looks like Gaza. Yeah, it's like doing miluim with my wife. Batya says we should invade the souk, they won't know what hit 'em."
    Walid was now certain: as soon as he finished with these marauders, he was taking his family to Beirut, where they'd be safe.
    When the Hisham Hotel came into sight, Benny ordered the driver to honk, just to let everyone know they'd arrived.
    At the front door they glared at the doorman for letting someone exit as they were trying to enter. At the reception desk they complained that the lobby was too small. The elevator took forever to arrive, the hallway was only now being vacuumed, and the stupid porter thought he might collect a tip, but what were they, freiers?
    At last, Benny and Batya began their vacation. Benny put on the TV full volume and deftly reprogrammed it to receive Israel Television. They disassembled the coffee table (a great housewarming gift for Batya's brother, they agreed). Batya picked up the hotel phone and shouted above the din of the TV that no, everything was not satisfactory, as they were spending a fortune here and didn't even get a view of the sea. And furthermore, what kind of a hotel is this that doesn't even have a bathroom sink, she said, as Benny was packing it into a suitcase (an unusual souvenir, they decided).
    Meanwhile, the euphoric hotel manager was making big plans. "Our rooms will be full of happy, friendly Israelis eager to spend a lot of money," he told Ahmed, his assistant. "They must go home with nothing but good memories." Ahmed sighed. "The camel then?" The manager nodded. "The camel. Park it out front, put on a white robe and say 'Shalom' to everyone. Israelis love that."
    Benny's phone rang. It was Shoshi. "Trouble," she said. "Some guy is complaining about a fly in his humous. Says he wants to see the owner." Benny suggested he go take a hike. "But he's a restaurant critic," Shoshi said.
    "Tell him to wait," Benny said, "I'll be right there."
    While he was gone, Batya decided if she was going to be stranded in the middle of the desert, then at least she'd kill a couple of hours by the pool. "Sorry," the receptionist told her, "we don't have a pool." Batya was still chewing her out when Benny returned. 
    "Let's get the hell outta here," Batya hollered at her husband. They found Walid still trying to get through to the ministry. They told him they were tired of Amman.
    The Jordanian asked the Israelis what they'd like to see next.
    "If you'd made peace 30 years ago," Benny said, "you could be showing us Jerusalem now."
    The next morning they stopped for a pee at Petra (so they could say they were there) on the way to Aqaba.
    Walid checked them in to the finest hotel, right on the beach. They unpacked their bags, unscrewed the light fixture (Batya's boss's birthday) and turned on the TV full blast. From the balcony they got a great view of Eilat. "Hey, isn't that Gingy from the bakery?" Batya said. Benny peered at the beach across the bay and said yes, it's Gingy alright. "Yooooo hoo!" Batya called. Gingy didn't hear. Benny leaned over the balcony and roared: "Allo! Ya manyak!" Gingy heard.
    "Whatcha doin' on the wrong side?" Gingy roared back. "Spying?"
    "Put on your radio," Benny screamed across, "Betar's playing."
    Gingy obliged.
    "Louder," Benny blasted.
    Nobody in Eilat seemed to mind.

WALID finally got through to the ministry the day after Benny and Batya left. Egypt had not been invaded, he was told. Shoshi got the oil, Sinai got the felafel and the Hisham Hotel manager got a new sink. Ahmed felt like a putz on the camel, but he was now making tips for the first time. Batya got a tan. Betar lost.
    Benny went right back to work at the felafel stand, telling an admiring lunchtime crowd what it was like in hootz la'aretz. "Fantastic," he exclaimed. "We felt like characters from Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves." Mind you, said the first Israeli tourist to Jordan, he did have one serious complaint. "We were the only Israelis there.  We felt like such, you know, foreigners."