I Need a J. O. B.

Welcome back to the West. Technically I'm in the Middle East but with overhead showers, people ignoring you, fatty foods, and most definitely the expense - it feels like home! OK, so everyone speaks an alien tongue and it will never be home, but hey at least they all look like me. Yes, I've been mistaken for an Israelite on average about twice an hour. People hand me flyers, ask me for directions, probably curse at me...all in Hebrew. My favorite quote here is: "OH! You speak English!" Yes, I'm not Israeli. Now I understand why it kept happening to me in Thailand and Laos.

Last night I went out to see DJ Paul Van Dyk at a club called Omen 17 (yes Lora, I know you're jealous). I got there at midnight and the place was empty. By 1am, there wasn't a square meter of dancefloor left. I have no idea how they ushered in 5,000 people inside an hour. The club was sick; 2 rooms, an outdoor chill area with grass; multiple levels in the main room with a huge balcony wrapping 3 sides. Of course it cost me 160 Shekels to get in! And each drink was 39 shekel. I'll save you the math: I ended up spending over $100 US for the night. It was an unforgettable evening and I may never be in Tel Aviv again, but considering I just spent $10 on my KFC meal: I'm going to have to either leave pronto or find suitable employment. I'm certainly not ready for that!

I'm not sure what time that club closed. I tried to ask a couple people, but nobody seemed to know and even less seemed to care. I left at 6am and it was still quite full. It's a good thing those kids are born with a natural tan!