The Hummus King and the Bathtub Queen

Chapter 1-1

CHAPTER 1

I met Philly in New York. I went to a Pet Shop Boys concert with a friend of mine, and only then I realized the song "It’s a Sin" talks about the lead singer who realized as a teenager that he was a faggot. It was a big concert. Honestly, being Israeli, almost every concert in NY is going to be "big." Even when I got out the yellow taxi and stood in line for tickets, I felt like the world was in my pocket. Here I am, Amit from Israel, going to a concert in f*****g New York City with an American audience and an American line and an American show, and here they are on stage and I'm here by myself, with a friend, greeting them in a New York stadium and remembering the first times I've seen them in a music video on VH1 while my mom was frying schnitzel in the kitchen. Amazing. We left the show and he asked me if I felt like stopping by at his friend’s house, and I said yes. I always like going over to my friends’ female friends, moreover I just got here a week ago and I'm scared shitless of this city and don’t know anyone.

We walked into her apartment and I was baffled - how can it be, that in an age when I was still using "AZZARO" perfume in my parents’ bathroom in Ramat Gan, this chick is paying for an apartment on her own in New York? And she’s only 21!

We got inside and sat in the living room. She asked if we wanted to drink anything, and before we could even answer, she said that the water was already boiling. A girl that puts a kettle on the stove before even asking what I want to drink definitely does it for me. She had dreads too, and magnificent skin, and amazing eyes, and a sweet a*s, but instead of focusing on this unique magic I couldn't stop imagining her paying her bills or buying a couch or carrying a TV or talking to movers.

How did she find this apartment? Who's her landlord? And in English! In the United States of America!

She caught on the fact I was mesmerized by this issue, and it seems to me like she's pretty amused by it.

"Give me a week and I hook you up with an apartment", she said and went in the kitchen. I nodded at my friend a kind of "niiiiice" with excitement - what a girl you hooked me up with, kudos! And I went in the kitchen after her. She had just poured the tea into small glasses, and we agreed that it's more fun drinking out of small glasses, because you can see the end of your beverage, and see that you’re almost out. That's how you appreciate every sip. I told her how when I do my grocery shopping at the supermarket, I always like buying the babaghanouj at Nisim's bodega, and that's where I always buy a small portion of that and raspberry syrup. A large portion of babaghanouj is significantly less tasty, like it’s a different type of eggplant, and I never eat it all anyway. After a week, I find this yellow crust on it and throw it away. A small portion is never enough though, I always need another spoonful or two, and that's probably what makes it taste better, and that's exactly why it's more fun drinking out of small glasses. She laughed, but more than the story of the eggplants, she liked the raspberry syrup, and the fact I go specifically to Nisim's bodega to buy it. "Only Israel has that," she said "those sweet little bodegas, with an old couple that's been there for fifty years." Then she added, "there's not a type of syrup in the world that you can imagine that doesn’t exist in America, there's everything here, from orange juice to wheat grass juice, but raspberry syrup?

“Oh, how I want raspberry syrup! Wow," she yelled and added sugar to the tea like she didn't notice. She just said one of the greatest sentences of all times and made me love her forever and ever.

I wanted to hug her. The way she said, "oh how I want raspberry syrup! Wow," and went back to stirring the sugar with a nostalgic smile and a face filled with innocence and truth; I felt like my heart was exploding.

Not only she put a kettle before asking what we want to drink, but her eyes are filled with happiness and livelihood, and her skin is amazing, dreads in her hair and a beautiful butt, and she wants raspberry syrup in the middle of Manhattan, and she doesn't just want raspberry syrup, she wants it badly, she wants raspberry syrup from the deepest, most sincere place in her heart. Her "oh how I want raspberry syrup" was on a high level of desire, of longing, of nostalgia, of loving the motherland. So, she lives in New York by herself, and she didn’t forget that her real life is in Israel. Perfect. That’s just what I need.

We went back to sitting on the couch and my friend told us that next week he's going to Pennsylvania, so she jumped up and said Saul is going to be there too.

"Who's Saul?" My friend asked, and she replied, "oh, just a friend of mine."

Who's Saul? What's Saul? Why is she talking nonsense right now? I was thinking to myself. What, she’s trying to ruin the whole raspberry syrup effect in one second? I can’t stand these girls that all of a sudden shove into their already boring story the names of their friends whom I don’t even know!

I can get to know a girl for barely five minutes, let’s say even on a blind date, and I barely know her name but all of a sudden she'll tell me, "So I went there with Miri.."

Who’s Miri, you b***h, who's Miri? Do I know Miri? Why are you pushing your friends’ ugly names in the story like it's helping me in any way understand your point? What's the purpose of it, for me to ask you who's Miri so you can tell me "Miri is a really good friend of mine, were really... it’s really hard for me to explain our relationship... anyway... Miri and I go to this place and..."

Fuck Miri.

We continued having a light conversation until my friend said he had to leave, so I left with him. I went home and got in bed but couldn't fall asleep. I was trying to imagine her paying our bills.

From my experience, I learned that the more excited I am over a girl, the less she is about me.

What causes this vicious circle to happen every time?

I haven't found a single reason other than maybe the more I’m stoked on somebody, the more scared I get, hesitant, and take her way too seriously, and chicks don’t like scared, hesitant men who take them too seriously. Moreover, it seems like all men are excited over the same chicks, so every chick experiences an endless number of scared fags who treat her like the princess of England, when all she wants is someone to treat her like s**t. In the beginning, at least. Someone that won’t make a big deal out of her, that will lay down the law and won’t take her schedule into consideration. Someone that will treat her like what she thinks a real man should treat a real woman. One that will set rules and will follow them with the utmost respect and kindness. That’s it. How long can she stand through that ritual where some scaredy cat calls her, all mumbling and possessed with anxiety, then later waits for her downstairs all nervous in his car, looking fresh and smelling nice, and he has mints that he offers her before she even had a chance to sit down, and then drives her to a Japanese restaurant she was just at yesterday with the other fag that tried to impress her. How long can she stand that for?

Go to her in the afternoon on a moped, give her an old helmet to put her Pantene shampooed hair in, tell her you're hungry and take her to Jaffa for some hummus, and that’s it. Don't make a big deal out of it.

I called her the next day and asked her if she’s going to Philadelphia for a big party a friend was throwing. Philadelphia is three hours away by bus, the party is at night, which means that if she says yes, we spend the night together too. I'm going all in. You wanna go - cool, you don’t wanna go - also cool. I have no energy for the "regular" way anymore. I called her. What are the odds that she’s going to be available for two whole days, and not only that, that she’ll choose to spend those two days with a moron like me?

She said yes. Not only she said yes, but there was no hesitation in her yes. Like I asked her if she had a cigarette.

I came to pick her up from her place like a kid that got amusement park tickets from his dad. We got to the station where all the busses left from and got so lost that we missed the bus by a second, we literally saw it drive off right in front of us. We kept walking around until the next bus and we got on that one at the very last second. We both knew that this tardiness was a sign that indicated a good connection between us, so we didn’t even mind missing another bus. We were good together. We sat at the back row of the bus, because that’s the only row that had available seats, and we were stoked that we had the whole row of seats to ourselves. We started making fun of the American stupidity - how once they have an assigned seat they only sit in that seat, even if there’s a seat that’s a thousand times better, they'll never take it. After ten minutes of a sweet ride, where we held hands and smiled, filled with anticipation like two children, disaster struck. One after the other they approached us and emptied their rotten bowls on our laps. One after the other. In Israel we don’t have restrooms on busses. Who can imagine the necessity of a bathroom on a bus that drives for only three hours?

We took an important role with lots of responsibility on the bus - being the gatekeepers of the bathroom stall. The lock must have been broken and the door didn’t close all the way, so the pooper had to hold the door while taking a s**t, and trust us that were attentive enough to know that they're there, so when the next person comes and asks, "Is there anyone in there?" We'll say, "yes, someone is in there, you’re welcome to s**t on us in five minutes, thanks."

Sweet Philly had to pee as well, but she didn’t want to go in there. She said she’d wait till we get there, and I said she should just go here, what’s the big deal?

Me, I can’t even think of peeing and shitting in places like these. When I think that there's someone out there just waiting to hear the beginning of a stream of liquid, it stops my entire mechanism. Maybe I’m a little strange, but if it’s not a f*****g emergency, it seems to me a bit rude to s**t in someone's presence.

I wanted Philly to pee. There’s everybody in the world, and my opinion of everybody in the world, but the girl that's mine, when she’s already with me, she’s allowed to do anything she wants. I can see other chicks behaving exactly like her, and they can seem to me as beastly or rude or stupid or exhausting, but my girlfriend can behave the same and seem like a princess to me. She's always number one, and she’s even allowed to s**t in someone's lap on a bus to Philadelphia.

By the way, Philly is short for Philadelphia, which is how the Americans call it. When we went to buy the tickets for the bus and we told the cashier "two tickets to Philadelphia please," he said on the microphone to someone else "two tickets to Philly," so we looked at each other and smiled cause this name is so cute and said to each other "we are going to Philly," and ever since, till forever, we would call each other that. Philly.

Some old lady came out of the bathroom and shook her head as if saying thank you and sorry at the same time, and after her a fat Japanese man walked in and peed like a horse. We looked at each other and couldn't stop laughing. We talked about how usually girls pee sounds are much louder than boys because it hits the water from a closer distance, but that Japanese guy broke all the records. We felt like we were sitting at the edge of a 30ft high waterfall.

After that I asked her what she wants to be when she grows up, and she said it depends in which moment I asked her that.

"Are you asking me now what I want to be when I grow up?"

"Yes, now, if not now so when?"