American Bars vs. Israeli Bars

First and foremost, Israeli bars have bendy straws. I've never been in an American bar that had bendy straws. I am more likely to go to a crappy restaurant, if my crappy meal is accompanied by a soda that comes with a bendy straw.

As I have previously stated, I have a touch of social anxiety, and, therefore, avoid situations in which I will be surrounded by lots of people and noise. My friend Alon always asks me why I don't call his roommate and go out, because she loves to go out. He understands why I don't, as he and I are much the same kind of animal--we like to stay safe and warm and mellow in our homes. Going out to clubs or large parties is just a little too much. He nags me anyway, because he feels, I think, a certain personal responsibility to ensure that I have a large social network in Tel Aviv. He was the first friend I met in Tel Aviv. I knew Keren from when she lived in Charleston, and then she moved back here, but he was the first person I connected with here. He works in the spa at the hotel I was staying in on The Greatest Vacation Ever last October, and we got to know each other as I passed by him the first few days on my way to the pool. We kept in touch from time-to-time after I went back to the US, and insisted that I call him one week before I moved here, and the minute I arrived.

I have been to his house several times and hung out with him and his roommate, Calanit, who is awesome. Every time I have been there, she has asked if I want to go out with her and her friends, and every time, I opted to stay, quiet and safe, listening to music and talking to Alon.

Last week sometime, Alon invited me over to his house for our standard evening of music and conversation. Calanit answered the door and gave me a big hug and a kiss (I am adjusting to the European-style kiss-on-the-cheek thing, although I am still a hugger at heart), and I talked to her for a while before I made it to the salon--that's 'living room' to you and me--to say hello to Alon and smell him hello. He smells better than anyone I have ever known, so I always smell him hello and goodbye. But I digress. Soon enough, his cousin Kobi and his sister, visiting from France, came back from somewhere, and we were all sitting around, talking. Of course, in a previously-unheard-of twist of fate, I was the quietest one, because Alon's sister, Yael, speaks fluent French and Hebrew, but very little English, so the conversation kind of went on around me. Being a man, Alon took my silence to mean "I so wish to rub your back", and I, being a big sucker for a good-smelling man, obliged.

Calanit came into the salon and stood there, as she so often does, looking like she had a purpose. She wanted to go out. Alon looked at me and asked if I wanted to go. I smiled a little, and so did he. For once, we were going out. Calanit was so excited when I actually finally agreed to leave the comfort of her apartment that she began the flurry of activity that was changing out of sweats and into club clothes. Having anticipated this turn of events, I was actually moderately dressed up and even wearing makeup, just in case. I knew the offer would come, but I wasn't sure what my answer would be.

Alon popped up like a jack-in-the-box and opened a bottle of wine. He said: "If we're going out, let's fucking drink!" Since I have the alcohol tolerance of an infant, a glass of red wine later, I was ready to GO. Calanit was like a kid at...um...well, not Christmas, I guess, since this is Israel, so let's go with a kid at her biggest birthday party ever, and Duran Duran was playing live. I've never seen her smile so big.

We got lost on the way to the bar. I am not sure how, since it became obvious that Calanit had been there many times before, but Alon and Calanit were arguing as they always do, like brother and sister. I wished so much that I could understand what the hell they were saying. I would like to note here that I taught my four companions an American slang term on the way. I was "sitting bitch", which is the term my friends and I use for the person who gets stuck sitting in the middle of the back seat. How did the tallest person get stuck there? I don't know, but I was certain to teach my friends this important Americanism.

The bar, when we walked in, looked, sounded, and smelled like every other bar on the planet (except you can still smoke in bars in the TLV). It was loud, crowded, and full of drunks.

But there were certain subtle differences:

1. When a group ordered a round of shots, the bartender also gave each of the drinkers a lit sparkler, like the ones we use on Fourth of July. Then all of the people in the group formed a circle, put their arms around each other, and danced around and around, reminding me of Jewish weddings (really, I have only been to 2, but this scene brought back memories of both).

2. Alon asked me what I wanted to drink, and I told him. He wanted a Heineken. He got money out of his wallet and held it out for me. I looked at him like he was crazy. First, I did not feel like yelling a drink order at a female bartender who may or may not speak English, when a good-looking Israeli man is much more likely to get her attention. Second, I do NOT fetch. Evidently, this sets me apart from Israeli women in bars. Alon later got a girl he didn't even know to go get him a drink, and one for me as well. What kind of girl fetches drinks for a random hot guy and the six-foot woman he's with?

3. People my age still go to the bars. When I am in the US and I go out to bars, I always feel like I'm one of the oldest people there. Here, I was among a lot of kids in their early 20s, yes, but there were plenty of people my age and older. I found it comforting, and somehow more fun.

4. Compared to Israeli young girls, and even grown-up women, American women dress like they are deeply religious. There is a certain amount of irony in that, I think. The rise on the average pair of jeans here allows for visible butt cleavage, and the skirts are so short that I can't imagine that any of the women in them can sit. Also, it is perfectly acceptable to show thong. And before you get out your drool cups, boys, keep in mind that it is not only perfect bodies that are so dressed. I think being comfortable in your own skin is a beautiful thing. I think showing all of that skin is something different altogether.

5. It is not uncommon to see Israeli men wearing skin-tight tank tops or t-shirts, a la "International Male", circa 1985. Thankfully, this seems to be the trend among only the very fit, or very skinny.

6. In order to get into the VIP section, you evidently need only be a very tall woman. Perhaps they thought I was the token drag queen.

7. The drinks could probably launch a 747.

Similarities between American bars and Israeli bars:

1. Everyone is trying to get laid.