Safety Precautions in the Land of Abraham
Last night we stayed at the Q Hotel in Netenya, North of Tel Aviv on the Mediterranean coast. It was really more of a motel, but that was all well and good as it gave us a nice campus to hang out around (we're not allowed to leave hotel grounds each night once the scheduled activities conclude). So we all enjoyed the opportunity to lounge about drinking Heineken tall-boys purchased from the beer fridge in the lobby. However, a couple of tall-boys into the evening, I found myself in a bit of a dilemma. I had developed an urgent and rapidly intensifying urge to relieve myself, but couldn't find my Israeli roommate, who had the key to our room.
I figured they must have a general use bathroom somewhere in the complex, so I set off towards the lobby, figuring that I might have the best luck there. Along the way, I noticed a sign sticking out from the perimeter fence displaying the universal symbol for bathroom, a stick figure wearing pants (or nothing?) next to another stick figure wearing a dress.
But that was it. No arrow, no indication of where the facility promised by this sign actually was. There clearly was no door anywhere within eyesight of this sign. Just a sign sticking out perpendicular to the fence line.
After concluding that there was no bathroom entrance anywhere in the immediate vicinity, I began mulling over alternative possibilities. Maybe the sign is there to indicate that we should feel free to relieve ourselves on the fence itself. While many would have immediately dismissed this as a possibility (or rather, never have considered it in the first place), it is important to note a couple of factors that lent credence to the thought, in my mind at least.
First, the Q Hotel was a bit run down, and clearly had seen better days. Perhaps establishments of this caliber just had peeing-fences. In addition, on our second night in the Galilee, we were visited by an apparently (we later found out) semi-famous Israeli musician, who, amongst many other anecdotes and guitar-accompanied anthems from his life, shared with us his initial shock upon learning of America's draconian open-container and public-urination statutes. "What do you mean I can't walk down the stweet with a bee-uh in my hand, and pees on dees sidewalk if I need to?" He recalled thinking. The flipside of this shock, one could only reasonably conclude, was that public urination law (or at least enforcement) was significantly more liberal here in the holy land. Nowhere in the Torah, after all, does it proscribe the need to mix our waste water with potable water, before flushing both away. As far as I know.
But I felt I should confirm this theory before doing any watering of the fence below this sign. I couldn't see any evidence of previous patrons having drawn the same conclusion. I continued on towards the lobby in order to inquire within. When I asked the man at the desk about the location of the bathrooms, he gave directions which seemed to lead to the general area of the aforementioned sign. I couldn't be entirely sure of the exact location, as his English was not great and there were a few words here and there that I didn't catch. I wasn't certain, but I felt reasonably confident that a fact as significant as the intended target being a fence post in the yard, rather than the customary indoor porcelain-bound pool of water, would have been given sufficient discussion-time during his response to confirm my understanding of the situation before sending me on my way. Since no such topic seemed to be covered, I was comfortable dismissing my initial hypothesis.
Before heading back out on the hunt, I used the opportunity to practise one of my Hebrew words-of-the-day, "it's...sh'iroutin, right?" The old man nodded and smiled, happy to see a young Jew making an effort to learn some Hebrew. Had he known what I was only moments earlier considering doing to his fence posts, he might not have looked so pleased.
I followed his directions as best I understood them, and found myself once again standing underneath the sign in the fence. Having verified the existence of a bathroom facility in close proximity to the sign I was standing under, I resolved to intensify my search.
I checked out every door on the building facing towards the sign. All numbered motel rooms. I looked around the corners, checking for another sign or some further clues. Nothing. I checked carefully along the fence line. On the other side looked to be a few trailers and...bingo. The portion of the fence immediately following the bathroom sign was actually a gate. There was a small padlock, but it was unlocked and stuck loosely into the gate. Clearly the sign was there to indicate that the bathrooms were through this gate, in the trailer area. Of course! The trailer patrons need a bathroom. I pulled the lock, opened the gate, and started walking.
I ventured a few yards deep into the dark alleyway behind the gate, with no sign of anything resembling a bathroom. I peered around the corner of one trailer, which revealed even more dark, uninviting alleyways. Then something caught my eye back over the fence where I came from. An Israeli flag was fluttering in the ocean breeze, reminding me that I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Granted, I was deep within fortress Israel, in the sleepy outskirts of a beach town and within shouting distance of our armed guard as well as a half dozen active-duty IDF members who were given leave to join us for part of the trip. But I was still struck by a fairly disconcerting thought. They don't build fences in this part of the world just for shits and giggles.
I hustled back to the fence and through the gate. For the third time that night, I found myself standing underneath the bathroom sign, confused, tipsy, and on the verge of peeing my pants. Fortunately, at that moment, one of the aforementioned Israelis on our trip spotted me and asked me what the hell I was doing standing there with that dumb look upon my face. I explained (using the broadest brushstrokes possible) my predicament. She laughed, and showed me where the bathroom was. It was essentially just a stall tucked into the support column for the motel's upper floor outdoor hallways. Weird. The door was facing away from the fence sign and blended into the wall, which is how it eluded me during my previous surveys of the area. I thanked her, made use of the facility, and continued my evening as before.
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