So you sold your car to move to Israel and now you will take the bus and imagine yourself to be a humble oleh from the 1950s. Here's what it's like, a typical day.
It's almost June, which means heat, which means sweating while waiting 20 minutes for the bus at a main stop but one, like many, which doesn't even have a bus arrival board that works, for it doesn't have one at all, doesn't even try. So much for the false advertising about Israel and satellite driven bus arrival boards.
In Israel, many people rush on to the bus, not even allowing passengers to deboard. They just push past one another. I don't do that, but there's a price to pay because sometimes the bus driver leaves without you or slams the door on your knee.
This time, I certainly wasn't going to rush on because an old lady with a cane was slowly moving toward the door. I stepped aside hoping that the driver would see me, but he didn't even see her. He closed the door just as she neared it. What do you suppose happened next? This is Israel. She wasn't going to be a Southern lady who said sweetly, "Young man, I know you are working hard. Please keep an eye out for the elderly passengers who need more time. May you be blessed." No, she didn't say that. Rather, she blasted him for half a minute with vitriol as I waited for her to leave the bus, fearing that the second she did exit, the driver would leave without me. He didn't. He took the yelling with a grin and let me on.
I boarded a nearly full bus, squeezed past a few people who stood in the aisles, and found my way to a four seater, with seats facing one another. There an angry and disturbed looking man in his twenties sat in the outer forward facing seat. His water bottle sat in the backward facing seat next to the window. His crossed legs blocked my entry to any seat, but he uncrossed them after a delay so I could sit down facing him.
He had a kippa and a small beard and a t-shirt. My thought immediately was that he was a former soldier who was trying to become religious.
As the bus swung around every turn, I stretched out my arm and gripped the window sill to steady myself. Suddently, the man lunged at my arm, stripping it from the window. I said in English, "What happened?" I guessed that he didn't speak Hebrew but I find that if I try to defend myself in Hebrew, I get tongue tied, and speaking English throws them a bit since they know deep in their hearts that without the USA this country wouldn't exist. As for arrogant olim who claim that Israel doesn't need the USA, well what do you expect from rabid olim? They are delusional.
He muttered something that I didn't understand, seeming to feel a little bad about his lunging at me, but I did grasp what had happened. This was a man suffering from PTSD either because of growing up in crazy Israel or because of the military ordeal or both, and something about my arm stretching across the seat across from him make him flip out. It was a little scary, and he hurt my arm a bit. But since fortunately I had sized him up, I wasn't entirely surpised.
I sat there trying to predict if he would attack me again or if my leaving the seat would set him off. After a few stops, I decided to get up and make it obvious that I was leaving the bus, not switching seats. He eyed me and then let it go.
Now, I had to catch another bus, which meant an 8 minute walk to a different route because the line I was on wouldn't produce another bus for 1/2 an hour. But still I had to wait. The next bus was also nearly full, but I found one empty two seater. I sat by the window and then a not thin woman plopped down right next to me. Our sides touched. She appeared not to be religious as many are in this town that is listed as one of the Haredi cities in Israel. Please note that when they say that about a city, they mean that more than a few thousand Haredim live there, not that that the city is inhabited only by Haredim.
Since I was sweaty from my walking and waiting in the heat, I was concerned that maybe I wasn't pleasant to sit next to, and she might say, oh those Haredi bums who refused to serve in the army are so dirty.
As my stop neared, I said, "slichah," excuse me, so that she would get up, so that I could leave the bus in the 15 seconds between the stopping and the door opening and closing again. But she was unwilling to get up. She said she would get up when the bus stopped. I understand her concern, since the bus flies around the turns and she didn't want to fall. Problem is that the bus stop button near my seat didn't work, as usual, so I might need to get up just to press it, that or ask somebody to press it for me which means figuring out how to say it in Hebrew, or understanding the response, which means stress. Everything here means stress. This is the most stressful place on earth.
Fortunately, a second button did work, although I had to stretch my arm to reach it, which isn't good for me since I had frozen shoulder from a vaccine shot.
Fearing that the bus driver would shut the door between my getting up from my seat and the walk to the door, I rushed nervously, my arm hurting from the attack, my nerves on fire from a simple bus ride in this lunatic asylum.
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