it's not the same without fell's point

When I was in elementary school, I would practically piss my pants in anticipation of my absolute favorite holiday, Halloween; but my undergarments are dry, my friend, because there is no such thing as Halloween in the Holy Land.
On Monday night, in honor of the Eve of un-Halloween, or perhaps because Monday in Israel is totally the new Tuesday, Jenn (my roommate/doppelganger) and I decided that we should have a girly night on the town. We bought ourselves a bottle of the finest blush wine at the SuperSol and drank until all the bars in the Be’er seemed appealing; we had been meaning to try out Interpool, a gigantic pool hall and lounge in the middle of the appropriately titled “Big” shopping center, so we headed there around 23:30. Oh my god, so not even funny. You know that feeling when you’re walking through D-level and you accidentally drop your keys, so literally everyone on the entire floor looks at you like you’re a juicy, tender gazelle and they are all ferocious lions who haven’t had a decent meal in three weeks? Perhaps I’m mixing analogies here, or maybe I’m a little distracted by the severed cow head we saw on the sidewalk today. Moving on…
We walked into the pool hall and I could actually feel 50 pairs of rapist eyes inspecting the fresh meat. Literally, the only female in the whole place was standing behind the bar, and there was enough greasy hair gel in the room to power a small vehicle. We cautiously inched our way through the repulsive beasts in search of the shiroteem/bathroom, where we promptly decided that we needed to get ourselves out of that perilous dungeon immediately.
Our next destination was Draft, a trendy nightclub across the parking lot from Interpool. This is probably the only bar (out of maybe 10) in Be’er Sheva that actually cards people at the entrance, despite the drinking age being 5 or so.
- Drunken-Sketchy-Shana Moment #1: leaving my ID at home (I generally travel with only things that I wouldn’t cry about losing and I just don’t want to be stuck in a foreign country without my driver’s license)
- Drunken-Sketchy-Shana Moment #2: flashing my credit card in place of an ID. “Ahh, she’s only a stupid American,” the bouncer cooed in response to my makeshift license, as he waved me through the door.
I would like to emphasize the fact that I came to Israel specifically for two reasons: 1) to find me a Jewish husband, and 2) the food. Israel literally has the most mouthwatering, exotic, and inexpensive fruits and vegetables I’ve ever seen. My drink was comprised of starfruit and maybe pineapple, or something flavorful that almost masked the taste of massive amounts of alcohol. Jenn’s beverage was bright pink and had pomegranate seeds and grapefruit pulp floating around in it. The best part is, these drinks aren’t completely outrageous here – they’re just like any other cocktail, simply because the ingredients are readily available.
Anyway, we finished our drinks and decided, you know what, maybe it was time to try a third bar. So we headed to Chica, a dance club that was supposedly having some kind of special college student night. We got there and realized that it was barely after midnight and therefore early for Israelis, so we headed out to the fourth and final bar of the evening, Manga.
The nights here always have a way of ending with Manga, and so does my memory. Jenn later described the final events of the evening to me, so I’ll list them for you right now.
- Drunken-Sketchy-Shana Moment #3: disappearing for like 20 minutes to an unknown location. The bathroom? Outside? The back alley? A black hole? Who knows.
- Drunken-Sketchy-Shana Moment #4: Finding what was probably a stray cat, and rather than kicking it out of my way, I somehow ended up touching, petting, and holding it in my lap. Who does that, anyway? I fucking hate cats. This is totally going to be Mediterranean Spotted Fever round 2.
- Drunken-Sketchy-Shana Moment #5: Dancing by the bar like an idiotic American. You don’t dance at Manga. You just don’t.
Apparently we left the bar and returned to the absorption center around 2ish, and we wanted to be entertained so we checked to see if any of the boys were up. (Drunken-Sketchy-Shana Moment #6.) Everyone’s lights were off but the boys left their front door unlocked, so we snuck upstairs quietly to do some damage. We’re kind of engaged in a war with a couple of the boys here – they’re Israel, we’re Hezbollah, and they stole our kitchen table for two weeks right before Sukkot so we decided to tear down everything that was hanging on their living room walls. Unfortunately the sound of Drunken-Sketchy-Shana being quiet is enough to wake anyone up, so we were ultimately caught and ushered outside. At that point we decided that it would be a good idea to eat something and an even better idea to make eggs, so I concocted the greatest creation in the history of fabulous cooking: get this, I poured scrambled eggs into my sandwich maker. I have the kind that presses sandwiches into little triangles, and each triangle is exactly the right size to hold the liquid from a single egg. And triangle-shaped scrambled eggs are decidedly much more awesome than amorphous eggs.
- Drunken-Sketchy-Shana Moment #7: Eating half a piece of yellow cheese with my egg because maybe I’m only selectively lactarded when I'm drunk. I then allegedly knocked over my entire Nalgene of water, but somehow I didn't wake up the rest of our apartment-mates with all of my balagon/craziness. Maybe miracles do happen.
The following morning, Jenn woke me up at 8:15 as we both realized that we completely slept through our alarm and were going to be late to Ulpan. (Class starts around 8:15ish, Israel time, which is never right.) Jenn scurried downstairs to class while I took care of important business, namely brushing my teeth, downing a cup of coffee and some cereal, and slipping into sweatpants and an ugly shirt. I walked in and recited my Hebrew apology for arriving 10 minutes late, after which my teacher asked me if I’d like to read. Sure, of course I would, I answered in broken Hebrew, considering I was still slightly drunk but I could kind of make out what was written on the board. She then handed me a piece of paper, which I would have to recite in front of everyone in the entire school during the Yitzhak Rabin memorial ceremony. Yeah, awesome.