When they turned the corner, they walked into five young, uniformed men with sub-machine guns. David stepped forward and, as he reached to his hip for his passport, safeties clicked off and guns pointed.
“No, no. Just a minute,” said David. “I just want to get my passport. I’m from the American Embassy.”
He showed them his embassy card and explained as slowly and loudly as he could in his very best English that he was with the American Embassy, that he lived in Herzliya, that he had been in the souk with his friends who were American tourists, and that he was now returning to the parking lot where he had left his car with CD plates.
soukThe radio crackled and three of the soldiers quickly turned and ran down the street. The fourth returned David’s papers and told him quietly in slightly
